So far we have not camped out high enough, but we shall not make that mistake again.
I hope you have not been nervous. We have run no risks of any sort (other than sprained ankles) on these infernal moraines.
The peaks are too big and too high for real hard climbing, and as for storms, there are none in these regions, not the symptom or ghost of one.
No driving snow on the ridges, no thunder-clouds, no fresh snow (other than the merest shatter).
I think we are bound to have the summit, as it is merely a matter of steady training to get our wind into order. We are having a real good time, and even if we fail on Nanga I shall not regret having seen these gigantic peaks and looked at the great mountains beyond Hunza and the Russian frontier.
August 9, 1895.
We find Nanga a tough nut to crack. The way up is easy enough, but it is very difficult to get our camps fixed, and the air certainly does affect one.
Unluckily the weather has all gone to pieces, and we shall have to wait for a week or so till it settles for the autumn.
Collie and I are very fit; Hastings is still bothered with a damaged heel.
