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The strategy was the same every day: To cover as much distance as possible before the untimely onslaught of the monster—AKA the wind—usually around 11am. The 8:30am departure had already been a feat considering the late sunrise, the subfreezing temperatures, and the physical punishment endured the previous day. Alas, at 9:30am that morning, I felt the first breeze on my exposed upper cheeks. Not a good omen. 30 minutes later, I was pushing up a rocky track against 90km/h gusts, while gasping for the little oxygen that was available at 4,500m in altitude. The mental battle had begun. | ||
-Yannick |
I have to wonder what you were like as a child. Did you drive your parents crazy by constantly taking risks?
You would have to ask them, but I think they were used to it… it sort of runs in the family 🙂