Peak practice

By Christopher Hudson, Daily Mail

Last updated at 10:31 10 February 2003


When I opened my eyes, I found myself hanging head downwards, with the rope around my neck and left leg, in a sort of hatchway of blue ice.

I put out my elbows towards the walls in an attempt to stop the unbearable pendulum motion, and caught a glimpse of the final slopes of the couloir beneath me.

My breathing steadied, and I blessed the rope which had withstood the strain of the shock.

Well, no, that's not me, actually. I'm quoting from Maurice Herzog's stupendous 1952 book Annapurna, which inspired a generation of climbers to follow in his crampons.

My own assault on the world's tenth-highest mountain ended at Annapurna South Base Camp, where there were beds, hot food and no danger from avalanches, but it still felt like a victory.

I had always wanted to see the Himalayas, having missed out on the hippy trail to Kathmandu in the late 1960s. But to really get in among the high peaks - how difficult was that?

Several of the summits in the Annapurna range are the equivalent of two Alpine mountains on top of one another. Altitude sickness can, therefore, be a problem.

For my trip to the hidden cirque called the Annapurna Sanctuary, the brochures recommended starting an exercise regime two months beforehand: jogging, swimming, cycling and long walks.

I have never seen the point in jogging, there are no indoor swimming pools near us and the longest walks I take are round the garden. So, as a middle-aged, sedentary man would I make it?

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Christopher Hudson

Not until the dossier arrived with its lists of things to bring on trek did I get cold feet: thermal underwear, fleece gloves, telescopic trekking poles, plasters, foot blister packs, painkillers and torch. What was I letting myself in for?

Too late for second thoughts. After a comfortable flight, the six of us on the Annapurna Sanctuary trek took a flight to Pokhara in the west of Nepal and a short coach drive to the hamlet of Phedi, where a board outside a cafe had 'HERE STARTS TRAKKING' painted on it.

It was the start of one of the most exhilarating two weeks of my life.

The rest of my group - ranging from a man in his late 20s to a woman of 62 - were all experienced walkers, but everybody was able to go at their own pace.

Four porters went ahead with our kit-bags, two Sherpas led the way and a local sirdar, or guide, saw to our meals and got us organised. We carried daypacks containing a water bottle, camera, book and something warm to wear.

Rolled at the bottom were our expensively thin waterproof jackets and overtrousers - and in the bottom of our daypacks they stayed.

In mid-October, the weather was fine, warm and mostly clear for every one of our 11 days on trek. Most of my walking, until we were above 10,000ft, was done in shorts and T-shirt.

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