"Gores, Joe - Kirinyaga" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gores Joe)

rather than on his face in the loose, sliding volcanic debris. By
the time he reached the stream at the head of Teleki Valley he
had fallen twice more. It was utterly black, pouring icy rain; he'd
left his poncho at Two-Tarn Hut. At old ruined Klarwill's Hut he
jettisoned ice axe, crampons, piton hammer, and ropes. He went
on down the long hollow of moorland dotted with giant lobelia
and euphorbia.
Below this was the vertical bog, several miles of coarse matted
tussocks with water between. He lost track of his falls there. Only
the vague starlight following the rain kept him floundering,
splashing, cursing his way down.
Ahead, the dark mass of the treeline. He fell on it as on a ban-
quet. Stunted, gnarled nidorellas bearded with moss. The Naru
Moru forest track plunged down into the rainforest's impenetrable
darkness. Sodden branches slapped at his face, clawed at his eyes.
He used his flashlight here, made plenty of noise so he wouldn't
surprise an elephant or leopard on the trail. Once the light
limned great streaming piles of fresh buffalo dung.
At the Meteorological Clearing at 10,000 feet, he found Hamlin
had left the keys in the Land Rover. That would cut 45 minutes
and three miles afoot from his descent. He rested his forehead
against the steering wheel as the four-wheel vehicle grumbled it-
self awake.
Midnight. Another day beginning. Good Lord, he'd never been
so tired. And he still had to get back up again.
He sent the Land Rover careening down the narrow red mur-
ram track, almost sideswiped his VW, and as soon as he cleared
the forest area swung off the route toward a distant farmhouse
owned by a middle-aged Scots family originally from the Republic.
His horn brought them awake so he could shamble through the
welcome triangle of yellow lamplight, hollow-eyed and gaunt and
caked with mud.
"Accident up on Batian."
"Full mountain rescue drill?" The farmer was already at the
phone; his wife was heating tea water and cutting bread.
Kendrick nodded and drank scalding tea. All the farmers on
Kirinyaga's approaches knew about accidents on the mountain.
The call would go through the Nairobi police, who would relay by
shortwave. He set aside the mug regretfully. The farmer was full
of objections.
"Man, you'll be in no condition to make it back up."
"And they'll be in no condition to wait up there alone."
He remembered little of the climb after he had smashed and
hulled the Land Rover two miles uphill beyond the Meteorological
Clearing before bogging down entirely. Watery dawn slashed
through renewed rain to greet him at the treeline. The bog should
have finished him; then, fording the rapid rain-swollen Naru
Moru by Teleki Hut, he knew he was all through.
He kept on.
At Klarwill's he collapsed on what was left of the floor. He