The rising sun finds a pictueresque scene: Rijnheer, who kept vigil over the camp, is in deep thoughts over his icepick. Everybody else is still asleep. But not for long. Soon jolly life returns to the camp, the gear is stored away, the tent rolled up and the "Yak" is shouldered. The descent back down the garage can begin.

They have barely reached the bottom, when up their path leads them yet again. For every single member of this select moutaineering expedition feels the deep urge to climb, to mount, to be on top of things. Briefly they lose control of this desire, pure intoxication with height. Poles, fences, signs - the climbers jump on everything and anything, pulling themselves up, because it is there. Until finally Reinhold requests prudence with authority: they will need every bit of their strength. The worst, after all, is yet to come.

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