The reason Porters disappear each afternoon.

Carol’s condition was worsening. She did not carry her pack as we moved to camp 4. This alone testified to her weakened state as doing so compromised a central point of pride among climbers. Gone was her quick smile and booming joyous proclamations. At each rest stop she would lie down and nap for a few minutes. We were all concerned for Carol, but nothing more could be done. If we halted the expedition where we were and her condition continued to deteriorate we could neither carry her out nor arrange a helicopter rescue. To turn around would mean subjecting Carol to the most grueling part of the trek all over again and would take longer than pressing forward to Carstensz, where there existed a suitable spot for med-evac extraction should it be necessary.

Pal was also off his game.  The cold and fatigue seemed to have robbed his strength. He lagged the team.  Though he carried his pack and still managed a smile from time to time, Pal was quieter, no longer interjecting interesting facts about things Norwegian, not even reflectors. At times he would go into coughing fits as he tried to clear his lungs.

The day’s trail moved through a transitional zone above the jungle but below the flattish grass savannah. Dwarf trees and woody scrub carpeted a benign series of rolling hills. I tried to occupy myself with music from my I-pod, but the brush kept grasping the ear plugs by their line, extracting them indelicately. We were now at 10,000 feet elevation, thus the heat was no longer an issue. Still I cinched my belt past its final notch and forced the spindle through the canvas. This would be my second day on Cipro so I could expect improvement with the intestinal issues that had dogged me.  I felt weakened, but not excessively so.

We stopped to lunch at the top of a steeper hill. Each climber brought their own lunch provisions on the trip. I had learned from prior expeditions what I could keep myself eating; beef jerky, trail mix and Gatorade. I supplemented this with dried fruit and chips of coconut. Other team members ate energy bars, candy and (in Pal’s case) dried strips of cod. We were all nibbling quietly when Pal suddenly asked “What is this? Ants!” He had seated himself near an ant hill and was now being fully explored by its residents. “Get up,” Dan ordered Pal, who seemed paralyzed by equal parts amusement and confusion. But as Pal stood the ants began biting him. He swatted and swiped at them furiously, turning in circles. I joined the fight, but seemed to discover ten new ants for each one extracted from the smited Pal. I told Pal to remove his shirt and shake it out. I found several ants on his bare back. They had attached themselves by their pinchers and were shaking their bodies freely as though trying to tear loose a bit of flesh. I exacted swift retribution upon these offenders. Judging our location to be unfortunate, the team cut lunch short and resumed trekking toward camp 4.

We arrived in camp a few minutes before the afternoon rains began. The Porters had constructed their own shelter next to our group tent on a small promontory overlooking the grassy savannah beyond. We ducked under our tarp as the sky opened up with heavy showers. I noted there were no tribal members wondering about camp and asked Jaimie where they were. He exchanged shy glances with Steven and Raymond. “It 3 o’clock,” he said, “ they go inside to make some love.” He gestured to the large common shelter next to us.  We agreed that this might explain their eagerness to get to camp each day.

Dan surveyed each team member as to their condition while we enjoyed a hot drink. Pal was worse than he was willing to admit. Carol could no longer keep food down. Ivan was strong and healthy. Denis, in a thick Quebec accent, reported “A tiny bit of sore in my throat. I don’t know. Maybe it is nothing.” Dan asked if the Cipro had helped me yet. I said I did not know. He said he had thusly tested his own condition a few moments earlier, then describing the experience in terms suggesting it to have been much more than satisfactory.

I gathered an aside of Denis, Pal, Ivan and myself to suggest we reshuffle the tent occupancy. Noting both Pal and Denis appeared ill on some level it seemed obvious they would tent together, leaving Ivan and myself to partner up. But before I could suggest this specific orientation Ivan and Pal chose one another and set about constructing their tent in the rain. This left Denis and I to share quarters, and though he might possibly be sick his symptoms appeared nowhere near as bad as Pal’s.  This seemed like an improvement to me.  We grabbed our tent bundle and stepped out into the rain, making our shelter on a less muddy area of what was all for the most part mud.