Blowback

The climb to the Traversette was steep, dangerous, and extremely difficult. Both Harvath and Alcott lost their footing several times. The debris-strewn moraine was covered with sharp rocks and jagged pieces of shale. Off in the distance, they could make out the towering peak of Mount Viso. Its craggy, snow-covered face was made even more menacing by the thickening curtain of heavy clouds gathering around it. Harvath knew that the weather was something they were going to have to contend with. Marie had given them an update on the forecast before they left, and the gods were not smiling on their venture. All they could hope for was to be able to move fast enough to beat the storm.

By the time they made it to the pass, their bodies were wrung out. They were above the snowline now, but neither of them cared as they unslung their packs and looked for a place to lie down. Harvath reached for one of his bottles of water and drained it in three long swallows. Dehydration was one of the most common consequences of altitude. He looked down at his gloves, the palms of which were shredded, as were Jillian’s. He removed a roll of duct tape from his pack, repaired his gloves as best he could, and then threw the roll to Alcott.

Once Jillian’s gloves were patched, the pair shouldered their packs and continued upward. In retrospect, the jagged rocks and loose pieces of shale were a cakewalk in comparison to what they now faced. As the pass wound its way around the north side of Mount Viso, the winds picked up dramatically and the snow they were walking upon quickly turned to ice. Once again, they stopped, and as Jillian ate some of the food Marie had packed for them, Harvath removed two sets of crampons from his bag. Once he was sure that both his and Alcott’s were securely attached to their boots, they started walking again.

Harvath chose his steps very carefully. They were on a narrow precipice with the sheer wall of the mountain rising immediately to their right and a fathomless drop, easily thousands of feet, immediately to their left. Very quickly, Harvath gained a new appreciation for how Hannibal could have lost more men and pack animals on this high Alpine pass than at any other point in his campaign.

They walked for twenty more minutes, stopping more and more often for Harvath to check their location on the spare GPS unit he had found in Bernard’s equipment room. When they reached the point indicated by the satellite imagery, Harvath held up his gloved hand, indicating that they had finally made it. The wind was now blowing so hard that both he and Jillian had to shout to be heard above it. Snow began to fall, and the icy crystals, propelled by the wind, tore across their faces like shards of broken glass.

Harvath got as near to the left side of the pass as he dared, dug in his crampons, and tried to peer over the edge, but he couldn’t see a thing. After checking both his GPS unit and the satellite imagery one more time, he began unloading his pack. He laid out four fifty-meter coils of rope and then pulled out a pair of lightweight Alpine sit harnesses. As he helped Jillian into hers and began tightening it, he noticed her wince. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

Though Jillian had never climbed before, she seemed more than physically capable, but that wasn’t what Harvath was concerned about. Climbing, while demanding stamina, was an absolute mental game and required one hundred percent concentration. He had given her several chances to back out, and she had passed on every one of them. If there was a find down there of any sort, she wanted to see it for herself.

In answer to Harvath’s question, Jillian looked him right in the eye and said, “Just tell me what to do.”

He had to hand it to her. She had guts. There was no question in his mind that she was scared-any sane person would be frightened by the prospect of what they were about to do. Even Harvath’s adrenaline was flowing, but the difference between a successful climber and a dead climber was what he did with that fear. Would Jillian allow the fear to eat her up and paralyze her the way he’d seen it do at Sotheby’s and the department store in London, or would she turn the fear to her advantage and make it work for her?