Chapter 4 Defeated by Blaudu River

Trust in Allah but tether your camels. —Handwritten sign at the entrance to the base of the 5th Squadron of the Skardu Air Force Before Mortenson could look down, a poplar branch hit him in the face, and a second branch tore the blanket off his head and hung on the back of the Bedford truck.He quickly lay flat to escape.Every tree trunk along the road was wrapped in cloth to protect it from hungry goats.Skardu looms at the end of the "Tunnel in the Woods". A green military Rama helicopter slowly flew over the Bedford truck. It should be returning from the Bartolo Glacier to the base of the Air Force Fifth Squadron in Skardu. Pry on the gurney.The situation reminded Mortenson of Vann, who had been sent down that way, but at least he survived.

Karpo Hill, also known as "Skadu Rock", the remains of the fortress at a height of 300 meters in the air, still stands above the city.The Bedford truck slowed to let a flock of sheep pass at the fair below Kalpo Hill.The busy streets are packed with stalls selling soccer balls, cheap Chinese sweaters and neat pyramids of exotic goods — including Ovaltine and Guozhen drinks.Compared with the empty and lonely Indus Valley, this street is incredibly cosmopolitan. Away from the blowing of sand and dust, the vast river valley looks quite rich.It is a solace after the harsh dark valley, and a rest stop for caravans from Kargil to Central Asia.But since the borders were closed, Skardu has been left out in the cold, isolated on the wild edge of Baltistan.It wasn't until the rise of the Karakoram alpine adventure that the place was reborn as a gathering place for climbing gear shops.

Mohammed pulled over to the side of the road, still unable to let half a dozen waiting jeeps pass first.Leaning against the car window, he loudly asked Mortenson where to go amid the angry screech of the horn.Mortenson scrambled off his throne and squeezed his way into the cab. Where are you going?It was an eight-hour mountain journey to Korfei, and it was impossible to call the village people that he had come to fulfill his promise.Chang Gaji, the mountaineering agent and travel agency owner who helped them arrange the K2 climb last time, seemed the best person to get the materials into the Blaudu Valley.The truck stopped in front of Chang Gaji's neat compound covered with white stones, and Mortenson knocked on the big green wooden door.

Muhammad Ali Changaji personally opened the door.He wore a set of starched white shavars to show his dignified status that he didn't need to be stained with worldly chores.Among the Balti people, his figure is considered tall, coupled with a neatly trimmed beard, a high nose, and the amazing blue circle around the brown eyes, the overall image is unforgettable.In Balti, "Changaji" means "a member of the Genghis Khan family", and if it is used as a slang term, it means "unfeeling and cruel". "Changaji was a businessman through and through," Mortenson said, "but I didn't know it at the time."

"Doctor Greg." Chang Gaji gave Mortenson a long hug, "What are you doing here? The climbing season is over." "I brought the school!" said Mortenson cheerfully, expecting a compliment.After descending from K2, he once discussed his plan with Chang Gaji, and Chang Gaji also helped him estimate the cost of building the school, but at this time Chang Gaji seemed to know nothing about it. "I bought all the materials needed to build the school in Rawalpindi and it has now arrived." Chang Gaji still had a puzzled expression. "It's too late to build anything at this time, and why don't you buy materials in Scardu?" Mortenson didn't know that Scardu could also buy these materials. cut off their conversation.Muhammad was in a hurry to unload and wanted to return to Rawalpindi immediately.The workers began to unload the goods, and Chang Gaji looked in surprise at the mountains of supplies in front of him.

"You can put this all in my office," Changgaji said, "and then we can discuss what to do with your school over tea." He looked Mortenson up and down for a while, frowning Looking at his greasy shava, dirty face and matted hair. "I think you should take a shower first." Big Bear's co-pilot gave Mortenson the well-preserved plumb line and spirit level.The workers passed by Chang Gaji with cement and four-layer plywood, and Chang Gaji became more and more enthusiastic.Mortenson unwrapped the brand-new Zangxue brand soap wrapping paper given by the hotel owner, and used hot water and soap to wash off the dust from the four-day journey.When he saw the Japanese alpine stove used by the servant Yako to heat hot water, Mortenson suddenly realized that it was probably stolen from a mountaineering team.

Mortenson became anxious and wanted to take stock of all the supplies right away, but Changaji insisted on dealing with them later.Following the call of the muezzin, Chang Gaji led Mortenson to his office. The servants were spreading out an unused down sleeping bag of the American Marmot brand on the hammock, which was hung on the desk and Between the world map on the wall. "Rest now." Chang Gaji said in an indisputable tone, "I will come to see you after evening prayer." Mortenson was awakened by loud voices in the next room.He stood up and saw that the room was full of sunlight, he must have slept soundly all night.In the next room, a small but muscular Balti sat cross-legged, scowling, with a cold cup of tea beside him, whom Mortenson recognized as the one who had climbed K2 with them. Chef Agma Lu.Agmalu got up suddenly and spat at Changgaji's feet—this is a serious way for the Balti people to express insult and contempt.Almost at the same time, he saw Mortenson standing at the door.

"Doctor Gerek!" His face lit up, like a rock glowing in the sun.He happily ran to Mortenson and gave him a Balti hug.Over tea, Mortenson ate six slices of white toast with lingonberry jam, which Changgaji was so proud of (though he kept the jam secret), and finally understood a story about him. The tug of war is going on.Word had spread throughout Skardu that he had brought school building materials, and Agmalu, who had helped him cook bean soup "Dar" and "Chapati" for several months, was here to ask for someone. "Doctor Jirik, you once promised to visit my village." Agmalu said, like many Takayama collaborations, he couldn't pronounce "Greg" correctly.That, Mortenson thought, was true. "There is a jeep waiting outside to take us to Ke'an Village." Agmalu continued, "Let's go now."

"Tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow," Mortenson said.He glanced at Changgaji's house. A truckload of building materials worth more than seven thousand dollars was brought here last night, and now he can't even see a single nail. It's not in this room, not next door, or in the yard that is clearly visible from the window. inside.He couldn't help worrying. "But our whole village is waiting for you," Agmalu said, "and we've got our special dinner ready." For Mortenson, wasting a Balti's hard-earned dinner was the kind of The guilt was too much for him to bear.Chang Gaji followed him to the jeep hired on Agma Road, didn't care if he was invited or not, and sat in the back seat.

To the east of Skardu, the asphalt roads disappeared and rural dirt roads took their place. "How far is Koan from here?" Mortenson asked.A rust-red Toyota Land Cruiser bouncing on a road not much wider than a tire.They were driving up a narrow, winding mountain road along the Indus River to a ledge. "Very far away." Chang Gaji frowned. "Very close." Agmalu retorted, "Only three to seven hours." Mortenson leaned back in the "VIP" seat next to the driver's seat and started laughing. He should have thought about the time it would take to make the trip in Pakistan.He could feel the tension between the two people in the backseat, almost as tense as the Toyota's suspension system.Ahead, through the windshield covered with spider web-like cracks, Mortenson could see the panorama of the foothills of the Karakoram at an altitude of more than 5,000 meters. Indescribably majestic, he felt unspeakable joy in his heart.

After traveling for several hours along a tributary of the Indus, they turned south towards India, and continued along the Shyok River to the Husheai Valley.The cold blue snow water flowed over the boulders falling from the cliff, making a deafening noise. When the car climbed up, the majestic mountain walls surrounded by terraced potato and wheat fields looked like battlements on a huge castle.Before evening, the Huxieai River Valley gradually narrowed into a pass, surrounded by mist and mist, and the road ahead was blurred and difficult to discern.During the months at K2 base camp, Mortenson spent time poring over topographic maps of the Karakoram while he waited for the storm to pass.He knew that in front of him was one of the most terrifying mountains in the world, the Masha Brom Peak with an altitude of more than 7,800 meters. Unlike most of the peaks in the Karakoram Central Mountain Range, the outline of Mashabrom Peak is clearly visible from the direction of Kashmir in the south, so when surveying and mapping in 1856, the British Royal Engineer Montgomery made this huge mountain standing in the snow The gray and white rock peak is called "K1", or peak one of the Karakoram Mountains, because it is the first peak that can be correctly surveyed from a distance.Located 20 kilometers northeast of K1, there is a higher but harder neighboring peak, K2, which is named "K2" because it was "discovered" later.Mortenson gazes at the site where American mountaineers George Bell, William Ansold, Nick Klinger and their Pakistani partner, Captain Jayod Agta, made their first ascent to the summit in 1960. It was a vast expanse of whiteness, expecting the spire of Masherbrom to pass through the clouds; but instead the mountain wore its cloak tighter, and only a little sunlight reflected on the high-hanging glaciers pierced through the clouds. . The jeep stopped next to a Zangmuba (bridge) and Mortenson got out.The bridge swayed over the Shyok River, and he had always been uneasy about the rope bridge made of yak hair, because the bridge was tailor-made for the Balti who weighed half his weight.Agmalu and Changgaji also followed, and the bridge shook even more.Mortenson struggled to keep his feet steady, clung to the handrails, and moved his forty-eight-centimeter-long feet on a single-strand rope like a high-altitude tightrope walker. One hundred and fifty meters further down was the turbulent river.The "Zangmuba" splashed by the river was slippery and slippery. Mortenson was completely focused on his feet. He didn't notice a large group of people welcoming him at the bridge until he was almost on the other side. A thin, bearded Balti man in hiking pants and a short-sleeved shirt with the words "Climb Higher" pulled Mortenson onto the solid ground of Ke'an Village.The man's name is Jon Zompa, and when Mortenson climbed K2, he served as the alpine team leader of the well-stocked Dutch mountaineering team.His most amazing ability is that whenever Agmalu is ready for lunch, he can always walk to the base camp just in time.Mortenson liked to tell Zompa the exaggerated adventure stories, and he always asked him to tell again and again the experience of leading mountaineering teams to climb the Bartolo Glacier dozens of times.The rather Westernized Dzongpa shook Mortenson's hand, then led him through the narrow alleys between the clay huts in Ko'an village, and offered Mortenson a helping hand as he passed the rubbish-filled irrigation canals. Jiang Zongpa walked at the front of the team of twenty or thirty people, leading the way for the big foreign friends, followed by two goats with sad eyes.A group of people turned into an elegant white washed stone house, climbed up the log steps, and walked towards the fragrant kitchen. Mortenson sat on the cushion his host had signaled to him, and the villagers of Koan crowded into the small room, sitting in a circle on the faded floral rug.From where Mortenson sat he had a clear view of the roofs of neighboring houses and, beyond, the steep rocky gorge that was a secure source of drinking and irrigation water. Dzongpa's son spread a pink plastic tablecloth in the middle of the circle, and served fried chicken, kale lettuce salad, boiled lamb lungs and brains at Mortenson's feet.It wasn't until Mortenson picked up the first piece of chicken that the owner began to speak, "I would like to thank Mr. Jirik for coming, and thank him for bringing a school to Ko'an Village." Jiang Zongpa said. "For the school in Ke'an Village?" Mortenson said hoarsely, almost choking on the chicken. "Yes, a school, you promised." Jangzongpa said, looking around at the people sitting around, as if summing up to the jury. "A mountaineering school." While examining everyone's faces, Mortenson quickly searched his memory, hoping to find some clues to prove that all this was just a well-designed joke, but the faces of the villagers in Ke'an were as stern as the rocks outside the window.He recalled his time on K2 for a few months. He did discuss with Jon Zompa to provide some professional climbing skills training for Balti Collaboration, because they often didn’t even have the most basic mountain rescue skills, and Jon Zongpa often talked about it. To the high injury rate and low wages of Balti Collaborators and Porters.Mortenson clearly remembered Jangzongpa describing Koan and inviting him to visit, but he was pretty sure they had never talked about the school, let alone any promises. "Mr. Jirik, don't listen to General Dzongpa! He is a madman." Agmalu said.Mortenson was relieved. "He said mountaineering school," Agmalu continued, shaking his head vigorously, "What Ke'an needs is an ordinary school, for Ke'an's children, not for him to build a big house—this is what you should do. I did." Mortenson's relaxed mood tensed up again. Chang Gaji sat on the left of Mortenson, leaning on the swollen cushion, carefully picking up the chicken thigh with his nails to eat, with a faint smile on his face.Mortenson tried to catch Changaji's eyes, hoping he would speak to end the mess, but a violent balti brawl had begun, forming two factions in favor of Agmalu and Jang Dzongpa, Women climbed onto neighbors' roofs, hoping to hear what was being argued. "I never made any promises." Mortenson tried to explain, first in English, then in Balti when no one was listening, but no one paid any attention to his existence.Mortenson just kept listening, trying to understand what they were arguing as best he could.During the dispute between the two, he kept hearing Agmalu say that General Dzongpa was greedy, and in the face of these accusations, General Dzongpa repeatedly repeated that Mortenson had promised him. More than an hour later, Agmalu stood up suddenly, took Mortenson's hand, as if bringing Mortenson back to his home would decide the outcome, and led the still clamoring team down the log stairs, across the After crossing a muddy ditch, I came to my own steps.The crowd sat in the same way in the smaller room, and Agmalu's teenage son brought out another dinner, which was placed in front of Mortenson.Aside from the kale salad plate garnished with pediments and the lamb stew with shiny lamb kidneys floating, the dinner was almost indistinguishable from the one at Jangzongpa's house. Agmalu's son scooped up a sheep's kidney—the most delicious delicacy he considered—on top of a bowl of rice, and offered it to Mortenson, smiling shyly and stepping aside.Mortenson put the kidney aside and ate only rice and gravy, but no one noticed him, as if he was invisible again.The people in Ke'an were as focused on eating as they were on quarreling. The previous fierce disputes and anger were gone, and they seemed to be completely chewed and digested just like the chicken and lamb bones in front of them. The long quarrel entered the fourth hour, and Mortenson's eyes were already swollen from the smell of the room.He climbed to the roof of Agmalu's house and leaned against a sheaf of freshly harvested buckwheat against the limelight.On the ridge to the east, the moon is slowly rising, pouring a large silver light.The mountain wind blew away the clouds and mist on the summit of Masha Brom, and the silvery moonlight carved the ridge line of the mountain extremely clearly.He stared at the sharp ridge like a knife for a long time, and he knew very well in his heart that there was a huge pyramid-shaped mountain shadow of K2.How easy it is to come to Pakistan as a mountaineer, Mortenson thought.Everything is simple and clear: target, organize a group, prepare equipment, and you can start the mountain journey, and the result is either success or failure. The smell of smoke from the room below, the smoke of burning yak dung coming out of the big square hole in the roof, stinks into Mortenson's little roof nest, and the escalating disputes among the villagers frustrate him.Taking a light coat from his knapsack, he lay back on the buckwheat heap, using it as a blanket over his chest.The nearly full moon has left the ridge and shines on the highest point of the cliff, like a boulder that is about to fall and may crush Ke'an Village at any time. "Just drop it," Mortenson thought, and fell asleep wearily. In the early morning, the south side of Masherbrom was once again covered by clouds and fog. Mortenson climbed down to the roof with stiff legs and found Chang Gaji drinking milk tea.He insisted that Changgaji take them back to Skardu before another round of dinner and arguments began.Loaded both Dzongpa and Agmalu into the jeep, refusing to pass up any chance of victory. On the way back to Skardu, Changgaji always had an inscrutable smile on his face.Mortenson cursed himself for wasting so much time.When they returned to Skardu, the winter chill was growing, as if to remind Mortenson that "the warm weather is coming to an end and there is no time to build a school".The low-hanging dark clouds gradually covered the surrounding mountains, and the drizzle floated in the air lingeringly. The refreshing season of heavy rain has long passed. Although the jeep was covered with plastic sheeting, Mortenson's Shawar Kameez was drenched by the time the vehicle arrived at Changgaji's house. "Let's do this first," Chang Gaji looked at Mortenson's muddy earth-colored Shawar, "I'll ask Yagu to boil some hot water." "Before everything starts, let us clarify a few things." Mortenson couldn't contain the anger in his heart. "First, where are my materials for building the school? Why can't I see them?" Changgaji stood there bless, "I moved them to another office." "Moved away?" "Yes... moved away. Moved to a safer place." Chang Gaji's voice was full of grievance and reluctance, as if he had been wronged by the sky. "What's wrong here?" Mortenson asked. "There are many bandits around here." Chang Gaji replied. "I want to see everything now." Mortenson stood up and approached Changgaji.Chang Gaji closed his eyes, intertwined his fingers, and twisted his two thumbs, as if hoping that Mortenson would disappear from his eyes.Finally he slowly opened his eyes. "It's too late, my assistant has already brought the key home." Changgaji said, "And I have to wash and prepare for evening prayer now. But I promise you, you will be 100% satisfied tomorrow. Then together, we will put these Set aside the clamoring villagers and begin your plan." Mortenson woke up at dawn, put on Changgaji's sleeping bag, and walked out into the dew-drenched street.Around the town, the peaks above 5,000 meters above sea level are all hidden in the depressed clouds.Without the backdrop of the mountains, Skardu's dirty and messy market, and the short and narrow houses made of mud and coal bricks make people feel indescribably ugly.While in California, Mortenson always described Skardu as the resplendent capital of a mysterious alpine kingdom, populated by kind and simple people.Standing in the drizzle at this time, he began to wonder if he had been deceiving himself, was it because of the excitement of the rest of his life after the disaster on K2 that he hadn't made a rational judgment on this place and the people here? Mortenson shook his head, as if trying to shake off his doubts, but couldn't get them out.Cole is only 112 kilometers away from here, but it makes him feel so close.He'd find the building materials and try to get to Cole and fly.Having come this far, he has to believe that it all makes sense.He chose the barren area above the Blaudu River because there was something he believed in and worked hard for.He had to go there before he gave up hope. At breakfast, Chang Gaji was extremely enthusiastic, and kept pouring tea for Mortenson himself, and kept making sure that they would leave as soon as the jeep arrived.Before the arrival of the green Toyota jeep, Dzongpa and Agma Road also came out of the truckers' lounge where they had spent the night before.A group of people set off in silence. They headed west through the dunes, where there was no sand, and on the edge of the field lay sacks of freshly harvested potatoes, piled almost as high as people, and at first Mortenson thought they were people waiting silently in the drizzle.The wind picked up, blowing away the clouds, and Mortenson caught a glimpse of snowfields flashing overhead and felt better. An hour and a half after leaving Skardu, the car turned into a section of mountain road with obvious car marks and headed towards the houses under the shade of wild willow trees.Those big houses made of earth and stone look quite comfortable.This is Kualdu, the hometown of Changgaji.Chang Gaji led a group of people who were completely out of proportion to the house through the sheepfold, pushed the sheep away with sandaled feet, and walked up to the second floor of the largest house in the village. In the living room, instead of the usual dusty flower and plant cushions, they leaned on a purple and green self-inflating mattress for climbing.There are dozens of framed photos of Chang Gaji hanging on the wall. He is always in white, which is in sharp contrast with the dirty mountaineers around him.Mortenson saw himself in the picture, happily putting his hand on Changgaji's shoulder.He couldn't believe that the photo was taken a year ago, and he looked like another person in the photo, ten years younger than him now.Women in the kitchen were frying on what appeared to be mountaineering stoves. Changaji went into another room, slipped a gray crew-neck cashmere sweater on Shawal, and went back to the living room.Five elderly men with shaggy beards and brown wool caps entered the room and shook Mortenson's hand warmly before finding places on camping sleeping pads.Then fifty more Kuerdu villagers came in and sat huddled around plastic tablecloths. Changaji instructed the servants to serve the dishes, which were so numerous that Mortenson had to move his feet to make room for them.Three roast chickens, radishes and kale garnished in rosettes, a large plate of pilaf studded with nuts and raisins, breaded and fried cauliflower patties, and the The meat looks like the essence of the yak.Mortenson had never seen so much food in Pakistan.The fear that he had suppressed desperately along the way rose again, and he could almost smell the stomach acid rushing into his throat. "What are we doing here, Changgaji?" he asked. "Where are my materials?" Chang Gaji took the yak meat and put it on a bowl of rich vegetable rice, handed it to Mortenson, and then answered: "These are the elders in our village." He nodded to the five shriveled old men regards. "I can assure you that there will be no disputes in Kuar. They have agreed to build your school in our village before winter." Mortenson stood up without saying a word, stepping over the food.He knew how rude it was to refuse their hospitality in this way, and how unforgivable it was to refuse the elderly in this way, and what was worse, to step over their food with unclean feet.But he couldn't help it, he had to go outside to get some air. He ran on until he had left Kouard far behind, and rushed, panting, up a steep shepherd's path.The high altitude left him panting so badly that his chest seemed to be tearing apart, but he forced himself to keep running until the sky was spinning.In a clearing overlooking Kualdu, he finally collapsed, gasping for breath.He hadn't cried since Christa passed away, but at this moment, he was lying alone on the cold and windy pasture, buried his face in his hands, and desperately wiped away the unstoppable tears. When he finally looked up, he saw a dozen children staring at him from behind a mulberry tree.These children who went to graze on the mountain saw a strange "Angriz" sitting on the ground and crying, so they curiously left the sheep behind and let them run around on the mountain.Mortenson stood up, wiped his face with his clothes, and walked over to the children. He knelt down beside the oldest child. "You...are...what?" the child asked shyly, then stretched out his hand, which was immediately held by Mortenson's big hand. "I'm Greg, and I'm a good guy," he replied. "I'm Greg, and I'm a good person." The children repeated in English in unison. "No, I'm Greg, what's your name?" He tried again. "No, I'm Greg, what's your name?" the children repeated, giggling. Mortenson switched to Balti. "Mintakpo Greg, Ngaya Americanin (I'm Greg, I'm from America). Chiremintakpoin (what's your name)?" The children clapped their hands happily, finally able to understand what "Angriz" said. The children introduced themselves one by one, and Mortenson shook hands with them one by one; the girls took special care to wrap their headscarves around their hands before shaking hands with the pagan.Then he stood up, leaned his back against the mulberry tree, and began to teach the children. "Angritz," he said in English, then pointed to himself, "Foreigner." "Foreigners." The children shouted in unison.Mortenson pointed to his nose, hair, ears, eyes, and mouth, and the children repeated each unfamiliar syllable, followed by another burst of laughter. Half an hour later, when Chang Gaji finally found Mortenson, he was kneeling among the children, drawing ninety-nine multiplication tables on the ground with mulberry branches. "Dr. Greg, come back, come in! Have some tea, we have a lot to talk about." Chang Gaji begged. "I had nothing to say to you until you brought me to Korffy," Mortenson said, keeping his eyes on the children. "Cole is far and dirty. You like these kids, why don't you build a school here?" "No," Mortenson said, rubbing the answer of a serious nine-year-old girl with the palm of his hand, and wrote the correct answer, "Six times six equals thirty-six." "Greg, sir, please." "Korfy," said Mortenson, "I have nothing to say to you until we get there." The river was on their right, rushing among boulders the size of houses.The Toyota car bobbed all the way on the edge of the brown rapids, as if it would be swallowed up at any moment, not at all like driving along the "road" on the north bank of the Blaudu River. Agmalu and Jiang Zongpa finally gave up and decided not to chase all the way to the Blaudu Valley, but said goodbye to Mortenson in a hurry, and took another jeep back to Skardu.The eight-hour Toyota ride to Colefield gave Mortenson plenty of time to think.In the backseat, Changgaji, sprawled against a bag of Indian basmati rice and covering his eyes with a white wool cap, dozed off — or at least looked like — in the bumping car drowsy. Mortenson felt a little sorry for Agmalu, he just wanted the children in the village to have a school.But the scheming and dishonesty of Jangzongpa and Changgaji made him so angry that it completely overshadowed his gratitude to Agmalu and dyed all his emotions a dark brown of frustration, just Like the river beside me. Perhaps he was too harsh on these people: the disparity between their economic circumstances was too great.Is it possible that an American who doesn't even have a full-time job and sleeps in a pantry at night is like a shiny dollar bill to a group of people in the world's poorest country, in the poorest part of the world? Shop sign?He made up his mind that if the villagers of Korfei fought for the wealth this time, he would be more patient, listen to everyone, eat every necessary meal, and then insist on helping the children Build a school, not Dufei Village Chief Haji or anyone. It had been dark for several hours when they reached the opposite bank of Korfy.Mortenson jumped out of the car and looked at the far shore, unable to see if there was anyone on the other side.Under Chang Gaji's instructions, the driver turned on the headlights and honked the horn.Mortenson stepped into the light and began waving into the darkness until there was a yelling from the south of the river.The driver turned the car so that the light could shine across the river bank.They saw a box dangling here and there on a cable hanging from the canyon, and a man was sitting inside, pulling himself toward them. Mortenson recognized Haji's son Tawaha, jumped off the cable car, rushed towards Mortenson, grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard, then pressed his head on his chest, smelling It smells strongly of cigarettes and sweat.Tawaha finally let go, and he looked at Mortenson, smiling happily. "My father, Haji Ali said, Allah will send you back one day, Haji Ali knows, sir." Tawaha helped squeeze Mortenson into the cable car. "It was just a box," Mortenson recalls, "like a fruit box held together with a few nails, and you had to grab the greasy cable and pull yourself forward, trying not to think about the creaking. Don't think about the most obvious facts—if the box breaks, you'll fall; if you fall, you're dead." Mortenson slowly pulled himself forward on the cable car at a height of 100 meters. The box was shaking in the biting cold wind, and he could feel the spray of water spraying up from below.Tens of meters below, it was pitch black, but he could hear the sound of the Blaudu River eroding the boulder.In the light of the headlights of the jeep, he saw hundreds of figures lined up on the cliff above the far shore to welcome him, as if the whole Korfy had come.On the far right, which is also the highest point of the cliff, there is a figure that he will never recognize wrongly, standing with his legs spread apart, as if carved out of granite, and the head with a big beard is harmoniously placed on it like a big pebble. broad shoulders.It was Haji Ali, watching carefully as Mortenson sent himself across the river awkwardly. Haji Ali's granddaughter Jiahan remembers that night vividly. "Many climbers have made promises to the people of Blaudu, but when they return to their hometown, they forget the promise. My grandfather told us many times that Dr. Mortenson is different from them. He will Back. But we were surprised that he came back so soon. I was surprised to see him again, he was long and different from all the people in Blaudu. He was really... amazing.” With Jiahan and other villagers watching, Haji yelled praises to Allah for bringing his guest back safely, before embracing Mortenson's "long body".Mortenson was surprised to find that the tall village chief Korfei in his memory was only as tall as his chest. By the fire in the central hall of the Hagee home, Mortenson felt at home after all his failures, strays and burnouts.In the past year, when he worked hard to write sponsorship applications and fundraising letters, and struggled to find ways to get back here, he kept thinking of these villagers.And at this moment, he really returned to them.He was anxious to tell Haji about the school, but he still had to observe the etiquette of host and guest. Shachina came out of the house and brought Mortenson biscuits and buttered tea.The sweet biscuits were specially made by her from an old recipe and served on a chipped plate.Mortenson broke open the biscuit, took a small piece, and passed the plate down for others to share. After Mortenson took a sip of buttered tea, Haji patted his knee, bared his teeth and smiled and said, "Wow?" It was exactly the same as what Mortenson asked when he came to his house a year ago, meaning "What's going on?" But Mortenson was neither lost nor exhausted this time, and he had worked hard all year to get back here to tell them a news, a news he was anxious to tell them. "I brought all the materials to build the school!" he uttered the phrase he had practiced many times in Balti. "All the wood, cement and tools are now in Skardu." Chang Gaji, who dipped in the tea, blushed with excitement.His anger towards Chang Gaji had disappeared. Although this person took him around a bit, he still brought him here after all. "I'm back to fulfill my promise," Mortenson said, looking Haji straight in the eyes, "and I want to start work as soon as possible, if Allah wills." Haji Ali stuck his hands in his vest pockets and played with the ibex stick thoughtfully. "Dr. Greg," he said in Balti, "with the most merciful blessings of Allah, you have returned to Korfi. I have always believed that you would return, and have said it many times, as often as the Like the wind that blows across the Laudu River Valley. So when you were in America, we were also talking about schools. We really wanted to build a school for Korfi,” Haji Ali kept his eyes on Mortenson ，“但是羱羊爬上乔戈里峰之前，必须要先渡过布劳渡河。因此，在盖学校之前，我们必须先造一座桥。” “藏母巴？”摩顿森重复着，希望这只是个可怕的误会。“一座桥？”他用英文又说了一遍，想确定自己没听错。 “是的，一座大桥，石头的那种。”塔瓦哈说，“这样我们才能把学校扛到科尔飞村子里。” 摩顿森喝了一口茶，却时时咽不下去，他在思考。 他又喝了一口茶。