Of highlands and heartlines - Bamboo Camp to Running Brook

Awoke to another clear morning, with a distinct hint of chill in the air.

We mentioned to the boys that we would have great views of Mt Vic, 
if it wasnt for the trees......

Campsite with the "offending" trees in the background

The "offending" trees

Well, that was enough for three of them to spring tino action. 
Out came their axes and after sizing up the challenge, they commenced an all-out assault on three very large trees. 
They chopped frantically, as if their lives depended on it, and as we heard the cracking of tree trunks, we hollered "TIMBER" as they fell away.

The view was revealed - what a sight! 
A magnificent view of the ridge line and both the peaks of Mt Vic and Mt Huxley.
And I reminded myself, that is why I climb.....a view to savour. 
How many people have had the privilege of seeing this!

This morning's walking was not as arduous as yesterday. Climbing steadily again, gaining more altitude, I plodded at a slow steady pace coping with the physical demands.

Still under canopy and the bamboo more prolific, there was a lot of track clearing.Today the concentration was focussed on trying not to trip over the freshly cut bamboo. The remnant spikes, sheared off at calf-height, ready to impale me if I stumbled and fell in the wrong direction. It was a constant worry.

My sunhat was again adorned with flowers, mainly yellow rhododendrons, picked by myself, Andy and several of the boys. This became a daily ritual which created a special bond between us.

We stopped for a break at Spilled Spaghetti campsite (Camp 3 - 2016) at around 11am, and just shy of 3000m. 

A heavy downpour of rain forced us to erect a tarp for shelter. 

A decision was made to have lunch as the rain persisted. 
And then came the thunderstorm. We huddled under the tarp watching the rain pelt down around us, the temperatures dropped and we played the waiting game. 

None of the porters were keen to press on in this weather. We thought it might abate and whilst there were ebbs and flows, there were too many "flows" and the call was made mid-afternoon to abandon any plans to continue and camp here for the night.

The gloomy weather conditions matched my mood today - dark and stormy. Sitting around with plenty of time for contemplation, the burdens of my heart weighed heavy with me this afternoon - recalling hurts, anguish, sorrow and the loss of friendship.

I feel like I have been treading water, out of my depth in an ocean of despair, trying to keep my head above water. 
But now I am getting tired, I need some help, but no-one hears my cries for assistance. 
And I asked the question of myself - "what on earth am I doing here?"

Eventually the rain did stop, the tents were set up and I decided to check out the creek about 100m from camp.
The rain had turned this trickling stream into a fast-flowing creek, water tumbling over the river stones. I thought of a name, "The Cascades" to name this camp, but the group decided that Running Brook was a better description.
Despite the cool temperature, I wasn't going to waste the opportunity to bathe in a mountain stream. 
Always a wonderful experience.......

The boys spent a few hours doing some preparatory work on the track ahead, clearing and cutting steps on several very steep sections. This would prove to be invaluable tomorrow.

The rain had dampened the firewood, sustaining a good fire proved to be one of the main challenges of each camp.