Below me the swollen river raged down the valley, dirty grey water rushing, crashing and tumbling, rolling boulders, tugging trees from flooded banks, swirling and churning every which way. 

Above, sky the same colour as the water closed in, the tops of the mountains remaining hidden in the murk. I knew what it was like up there, near horizontal rain driven by a malicious wind intent on tossing me off the narrow ridge. Behind, the perilous trail from where I’d descended was more a cascade than a track.

I could hear the waterfall’s roar long before I could see it, hardly surprising given the weather conditions. The heavy rain had soaked me to the skin and waterfalls, too many to count, leapt impatiently off the mountain face. I’d made my way safely past many but ahead was the highest and largest, the formidable Earland Falls.

Having woken at 5am to the freezing cold, I reflected once more on Raju’s briefing the night before. For the first time since leaving Lukla, Raju warned that this was going to be a hard day. According to Raju, we’d already had seven easy days though with the challenging climbs, high altitudes and reduced oxygen, easy was not the description any of us would have chosen. If Raju was telling us to prepare for a hard day, we’d better take him seriously.