The plan was to jump-off at midnight, and chase the sunrise that would appear if the clouds decided to yield. The world, however, was simply uncooperative. The clock ticked as the wind screamed, while light, sporadic rains started to drench our tents. Lucky for us, the rains had stopped when midnight came. We went on our way; but the wind sang hoarsely like a chorus of knives. Still, we trudged on; even as the terrain, the cold, the dark, the strong winds – and my bum stomach – were all clearly aligned against us.