The Climb Day Three: It’s Cold In My Fart Bag

Holy crap it’s cold sleeping up here at 10,000 feet. We fell asleep last night to the most astonishing views of the miraculously cleared up mountain in full view and rising stars all around us on the moorlands. It was colder than we’d experienced but fuuuuuck was it freezing when we woke up.

I started waking up at midnight. I was as comfortable as is possible in a mummy sleeping bag and thin mattress, but I was literally wearing all my clothes and I missed the pillow I usually put between my knees. It was just awkward.

Earlier in the evening I asked Prosper if it was ok for me to take a Benadryl to try and sleep. We been instructed to inform him before taking anything. Including the things he told us to pack to take.

“Do you have a cold?” He asked as he took my twice-daily vitals.

“No I’d just like to sleep through the night,” I said, feeling like a drug seeker. Which I guess I was.

He agreed to a half dose blaming possible dehydration and I did actually sleep for half the night. The second half I lay in my tight sleeping bag freezing, and grateful for the chronic flatulence induced by the forced-feeding regimen and changes in air pressure. It acted as a heat source.