Day two began with our morning mountain ritual… Awoken at 6am, with a cup of Milo (the drink of Champions, as it says on the tin) from a far too chirpy porter, then to the mess tent for sloppy porridge, which became a staple throughout our time on the mountain. We took to the trail once again, legs feeling strong and no sign of symptoms of altitude sickness…
The terrain had now changed from rainforest to dusty moorland, and the campsite that evening was truly breathtaking. We camped in a valley just above cloud level, and all you could see around you was a thick carpet of fluffy clouds. There were literally hundreds of tents, as many groups flock to the same campsites each night, and there was a buzz of porters hurrying around preparing dinner for us ravenous climbers. Those of us, whose sleep was interrupted by the amount of water consumed that day, were greeted by the most ridiculously starry sky, and the brightest moon I have ever seen that illuminated the peak of the mountain that towered menacingly above.
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