The descent became steeper, with several switchbacks to make it a little less steep than it would have been otherwise.
The sky got so dark it looked like nightfall. Then it began to rumble.
We still had a mile to go. Stick and I looked at each other and suddenly began sprinting down the mountain.
Admittedly, sprinting is a relative term when you’re talking about a 58-year-old and a 61-year-old.
As soon as we arrived in camp we made a quick assessment of the best places to pitch our tents, then set about getting them up as quickly as possible.
At the same time, two young women arrived and did the same thing. Just as we finished setting up, a few raindrops began to fall. We turned to the women, shouted a quick “hello”, and dived into our tents.
Within seconds, the sky opened up and produced a deluge.