The men lifted oxygen sets onto their backs, then they turned towards the mountain and stamped off into history. Inside the tent lay a mess of sleeping bags and food. The two of them stood for a while, shuffling their feet and blowing into their hands. It was a fine morning for the attempt, with only a few clouds in the sky. As the sun rose through wisps of cloud beyond the Tibetan hills to the east, one of the men emerged through the tent flaps. Low voices shared the high-altitude agonies of waking, the heating of water, the struggle with frozen boots. Then there was a groan, a stirring, and eventually the slow scratch of match against sandpaper. Inside the ice-crusted shelter, two forms lay still as death. A couple of thousand feet above the tiny canvas tent the summit of the world's highest mountain stood impassively, waiting for someone to have the courage to approach. Print Last Hours on Everest: The Gripping Story of Mallory and Irvine's Fatal AscentÄawn broke fine on that fatal day.
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