Chapter 6 bridge building

Only a few creatures survive in this vast mountain range, a place that humans can only visit and cannot settle. Life has a new status... But the mountains have no chivalry, and we always forget their cruelty. , coldly and mercilessly attack those who venture to climb. --George Shirer, The Silent Stone There was a crackling noise on the phone, as if it was half a world away, and Mortenson knew that the other party was not more than two hundred kilometers away from him. "Say it again?" said the other side. "Seliangmu (I wish you peace)." Mortenson yelled into the microphone, "I want to buy five bundles of 125-meter-long steel cables, and I want three strands. Sir, do you have any goods?"

"Of course." The voice on the phone suddenly became clear. "One hundred and fifty thousand rupees for a steel cable, is this price acceptable?" "Do I have any other options?" "No." The contractor laughed. "I'm the only one in the whole of the North with so many cables. May I ask your name?" "Mortenson, Greg Mortenson." "Where did you call from? Are you in Gilgit, Mr. Gregor?" "I'm in Skardu." "May I ask why you use so many cables?" "I have friends who live in the upper reaches of the Blaudu River. They don't have a bridge. I want to help them build a bridge."

"Oh, you're an American, aren't you?" "yes." "I've heard that you're going to build a bridge. Will the jeep be able to drive up the path in your village?" "If it doesn't rain. Can you send the goods up?" "If Allah wills." He said "if Allah wills", not "no".After a dozen rejected calls, it was the most beautiful answer Mortenson had ever heard, and the most meaningful.Now that he had the cables, this was the last and most difficult part before the bridge was built.The time was early June, 1995, and if there were no other insurmountable difficulties, the bridge could be repaired before winter, and it would be ready for the construction of the school next spring.

Although Mortenson was terribly nervous when he called Gene Hoerney, Hoerney was surprisingly kind and wrote him another check for $10,000. "You know what? Some of my ex-wives spent more than that in a single weekend." Still, he asked Mortenson to make a commitment. "Can the school be built as soon as possible? I'm old, and when it's finished, please send me a photo." Mortenson agreed happily. "Does this man have a tightrope?" Changgaji asked. "He has." "How much?" "Same amount as you said, eight hundred dollars a bundle."

"Will he deliver it?" "If Allah wills." Mortenson put the microphone back on Changgaji's office set.Mortenson is very happy to be back on the track of building a school with Horney's sponsorship money, and this time he is also happy to use the services of Changgaji Company. In terms of the benefits brought by his vast network, these commissions are definitely worth it.Changaji used to be a policeman and seemed to know everyone in town, plus the school building materials were stored with him and he wrote the storage receipts, there was no reason not to put his strengths and connections to good use.

During the week Mortenson slept in a hammock in Changaji’s office, there was always a tinge of nostalgic delight when he saw Tanzania’s old name, Tanganyika, still emblazoned on the wall on an ancient map of the world.Occasionally, he also likes to listen to the stories of Chang Gaji's former villains.The weather in summer is particularly good, and Changgaji’s business is very busy. Several mountaineering expeditions have been prepared, including the German mountaineering team and the Japanese mountaineering team who attempted to summit K2, and the Italian team that climbed Gasherbrum IV for the second time. .Because of this, German-labeled high-protein nutrition bars began to appear in the corner of Changgaji’s office, just like squirrels store nuts for the winter; behind the desk is a large box of Japanese Pocari Sweat sports drinks, plus three or four boxes of Italian biscotti .

Once the cables were ordered and the cargo would be delivered, Mortenson took the jeep to Escoli, climbing through tunnels of apple and apricot trees to the Shiger Valley.The sky is clear, and the reddish-brown jagged ridge with an altitude of more than 5,000 meters seems to be within reach, and the mountain road seems to be carved out of the cliff, barely allowing cars to pass. But as they turned onto the Buraudu River, the rushing clouds from the south—monsoon rains from India—began to cover the car.When they arrived in Escoli, everyone in the car was soaked and splashed with mud because there were no windows.

After entering Escoli, it was raining heavily, and the driver refused to continue driving in the dark, so Mortenson had to get out of the car.At least several hours' walk to Korfei, he had to spend the night in a shop next door to the village chief Haji Mehdi's house, lying on sacks of rice and trying to drive out the rats that had climbed up to hide from the rain . Finally, in the early morning, the torrential rain was still pouring like the end of the world, and the jeep driver also took over the job to bring a batch of goods back to Skardu, so Mortenson decided to walk on the road.He has always wanted to change his impression of Escoli and try to appreciate this place, but this village has been "polluted" quite seriously.All trekkers and mountaineering teams going to the northwest will pass through here. Many people will hire porters and replenish supplies here. Unscrupulous businessmen have learned to rip off Westerners.In other words, Escoli merchants usually drive up prices and reject any bargaining.

Mortenson was staggering along an alley with half a meter of water and round walls of earth and stone houses on both sides, when he suddenly felt his jacket being pulled from behind.He turned around and saw a lice-ridden boy begging for money.Mortenson gave him an apple from his canvas bag, but the boy threw it into the gutter. On the stretch north of Escoli, Mortenson had to put the hem of his shirt over his nose to breathe.This is the base camp of countless mountaineering teams climbing the Bartolo Glacier, and hundreds of piles of feces emit a stench. Mortenson recently read Helena Noble Hodge's book "Revelation From Ancient Times" and sympathized with the author's point of view.Norb Hodge lived for seventeen years in Ladakh, south of this mountain.Ladakh and Baltistan are almost identical.Noble Hodge has studied Ladakh culture for nearly two decades, and the final conclusion is: instead of "improving" the living standards of Ladakh people without limit, preserve their traditional way of life - live in harmony with the land The big family lifestyle - can bring the greatest happiness to the people of Ladakh.

"I used to think that the 'progress' of human beings was some inevitable trend that could not be questioned," she wrote. Centuries-old churches, banks covered with steel and glass curtains... the pace is getting faster and faster, and life is getting more and more difficult. But in Ladakh, I no longer think so. There is not only one way to go, I Fortunate to witness another 'more normal' way of life - a form of existence based on the co-evolution of humans and the planet." Noble Hodge believes that Western developers should not blindly impose modern "progressive standards" on ancient cultures. She proposes that industrial countries should learn from nations like Ladakh to build a sustainable society. "In Ladakh, I saw that community, and the close relationship between people and the land, can enrich human life more than any material or high technology. At this time, I realized that another way of life is feasible .”

As Mortenson climbed the slippery canyon and continued toward Cole, with the fast-moving Blaudu River on his right, he suddenly worried about the impact a bridge might have on this isolated village. "The people in Korfy lived very hard lives, but they had a rare innocence," Mortenson said. "With the bridge, they could get to the hospital in hours instead of days. But I'm also worried that the outside world will change Cole Fei." Villagers greeted him on the river bank and helped him into the cable car.On either side of the river bank are hundreds of large granite slabs, piled in place on the piers and awaiting work.Haji Ali finally convinced Mortenson that instead of transporting the stones across the river, or bringing them up from other places, it would be better to cut the stones from the mountainside hundreds of meters on both sides of the river bank. use.Korffy lacked everything but stones. In the heavy rain, Mortenson led a group of people to Haji Ali's house to discuss the procedures for building the bridge. A black long-haired yak stood between two houses, blocking their way.Tehila, a ten-year-old girl, is the youngest daughter of the most educated Hussein in the village, pulling the bridle on the yak's nose ring and telling it to move out of the way.But this yak had other plans, so he pulled out a pile of smoking dung in his spare time. Seeing this, Tehila quickly threw the white turban over his shoulder, knelt down and mixed the dung into small balls, and then poured the dung into the stone under the eaves. Throw it against the wall to dry the dung ball and save the precious fuel from being washed away by the rain. At Haji Ali's house, Sakina shook Mortenson's hand to welcome him, and he remembered that this was the first time a Balti woman had dared to touch him.She leaned boldly close to his face, grinning as if challenging his surprise.Because of Sachina's warm welcome, Mortenson also stepped over the restriction and walked into her "kitchen".Inside was a stone stove, shelves and a warped chopping board.Mortenson crouched by the haystack that started the fire, greeting Sakina's granddaughter Jiahan.The little girl smiled shyly, covered her mouth with a wine-red scarf, and hid her entire face again. Sakina giggled and tried to chase Mortenson out of the kitchen, but Mortenson grabbed a handful of herbal-scented "Tam Bullock" (high mountain tea) from an old copper jug ​​and poured the water from a plastic petrol can Pour into the blackened teapot and add a few more sticks to the fire to bring the tea to a boil. He poured tea for the people in the meeting, took a cup for himself, and sat between Haji Ali and the fireplace wall, the acrid smell of burning yak dung filling the room. “My grandmother was very surprised that Dr. Greg had come into her kitchen,” says Jiahan, “but she had accepted him as her own. Soon she changed her mind. She started joking with my grandfather that he should follow his American son and help in the kitchen." However, Haji Ali never let down his vigilance when it comes to major issues concerning Korfei. "I'm amazed every time, there's no electricity, no telephone, no radio, but Haji Ali knows everything about the Blaudu Valley and other areas," Mortenson said.This time, two jeeps carrying steel cables drove to a place 25 kilometers away from Kerfei when they suddenly encountered landslides and rocks, and the road was interrupted.Haji Ali told the villagers that the road may not be accessible for several weeks, and it is impossible for heavy equipment to come out of Skardu to make repairs in such weather. He suggested that all the strong men in the village be dispatched to move the steel cables up. This way you can start building bridges right away. The next day, thirty-five Balti men, ranging from teenagers to white-bearded fathers about Haji Ali's age, walked all day in the rain, then picked up tightrope for another twelve hours Mortenson was amazed at their joy.Each bundle of steel cables weighs 360 kilograms, and it takes ten men to lift the wooden poles that pass through the shaft holes. Mortenson was more than a head taller than the Flying Cole, and he wanted to help with the move, but he always let the wire rope tilt to one side, and finally had to watch others work, but no one cared—most of the villagers had suffered Hired as a coordinator and porter in the western mountaineering team, he has long been used to climbing the Bartolo Glacier with the same heavy bags on his back. Haji Ali always had naswa, the strong-smelling tobacco in his vest pocket, and there seemed to be an unlimited supply of it, which the villagers happily marched on chewing.Tawaha shared a bundle of steel cables with Haji Ali, and he told Mortenson that working hard to improve life in the village was more enjoyable than helping foreigners pursue mountaineering "goals" that were difficult for locals to understand up. After returning to Korfe, the strong men of the village worked together to deepen the foundation on the muddy river bank.The monsoon rains kept falling, and the cement would not dry in this kind of weather. Tawaha and some young men suggested that they go hunting ibex in the mountains, and invited Mortenson to go with them. Mortenson was wearing only running shoes, a raincoat, shwar kameez, and a cheap Chinese sweater he picked up at the Skardu market, and found that there was not enough clothes on the mountain.But the other six villagers were not much better: Tawaha was fine, wearing leather hiking shoes given by the climber, two others had their feet wrapped in leather, and one was wearing plastic sandals. They headed north in the steadily increasing rain, through field after field of irrigated buckwheat.Ripe buckwheat ears look like "miniature" corns, swaying and jumping with the ear stalks under the heavy rain.Tawaha proudly carried the group's only gun, a Mauser left over from the British colonial era.Mortenson couldn't believe that they were going to shoot the ibex with the antique gun. Mortenson saw the bridge he had missed when descending from K2—a “Zangmupa” tied with yak hair to boulders on both sides of the Bulaudu River, and suddenly felt very happy.This bridge leads to Escoli, also right on the edge of Korfy.If he hadn't missed this bridge and strayed into Korfei, his life would probably have been completely different. They climbed up and gradually entered the canyon. The rain from the sky and the water spray from the Blaudu River made them drenched from top to bottom.The mountain road winds its way up the steep slope, which is dizzying.Generations of Balti have stuck flat stone sheets together as roadbeds to prevent fragile roads from being swept away by flash floods.Carrying bamboo baskets on the mountain roads that are only as wide as the soles of their feet, Balti people are as stable as walking on flat ground.Mortenson clung to the valley wall and followed the footsteps of the person in front of him carefully step by step. Below was the Blaudu River. He couldn't help himself not to be nervous. The ugliness of the Blaudu River here is comparable to the beauty of the alpine ice peaks that gave birth to it.The muddy yellow river water is like a twisting boa constrictor, roaring in the dark underground caves covered with black and brown pebbles. It is hard to believe that this ferocious turbulence is actually the life that breeds golden buckwheat ears and all crops. fountain. The rain finally stopped before they reached the Biafo Glacier.A ray of light came out of the clouds and fell on the Bacondas Peak to the east, turning the mountain a lemon yellow.This pyramid-shaped peak at an altitude of 5,800 meters is called "Korfei's Chogori" by the locals because its shape is very similar to Chogori, and it protects their homeland like a god.The Kerfly people regarded this sight as a good omen, and Tawaha led a group of people to pray to the gods of the Karakoram Mountains, promising that they would hunt only one ibex. To find the ibex, they had to climb up again.Renowned field biologist George Schaller has tracked ibex and its relatives in the Himalayas.Peter Matthewson also followed Schaller to study "blue sheep" in the mountains of western Nepal in 1973. He described this long and difficult mountain journey as a "pilgrimage", which was the blueprint for his later famous book "Snow Leopard". . Walking on the roof of the world requires more than physical strength.Schaller admits in his book "Stone of Silence" that when he walked among the Karakoram Mountains - which he called "the wildest place on earth" - it was more like a lonely journey of the soul than scientific research. . “The journey was grueling and frustrating,” Schaller wrote, “but the mountains became an addiction and made me want to explore Karakoram even more.” When Schaller hiked here 20 years ago, he recorded ibex and Marco Polo sheep.After many days of exploration, he was even more amazed at the adaptability of the ibex in the harsh environment. Alpine ibex are large, muscular goats, easily recognizable by their huge curved horns—which are as valuable to the Balti as their delicious meat.Schaller discovered that ibex are the tallest animals in the Karakoram range. Their steady footwork allows them to climb narrow rocky paths with an altitude of more than 5,000 meters, which is far higher than the wolves or snow leopards that prey on them.As long as there is vegetation, they can be found. They need to forage for ten to twelve hours a day, looking for grass leaves and shoots to fill their stomachs. A patch of hard ice appeared ahead, indicating that they were approaching the end of the tongue of the Biafo Glacier.Tawaha stopped and took out a round object from the pocket of the wine-red fleece jacket Mortenson had sent back to him. It was a tomar (badge of courage).The Balti people believe that the death of babies in the village is caused by the evil spirits in the mountains, so every baby hangs "Tomar" around his neck to avoid evil spirits when he is born.When they are in danger, such as when they need to travel on a flowing glacier, they will wear "Tomar".Tawaha tied the large badge carefully woven with purple-red wool to the zipper of his clothes, and the others also fastened their "tomars", and the group of people set foot on the glacier. Walking among the people who had set foot on the glacier to hunt for food, not summit, Mortenson had a whole new perspective on the wilderness.No wonder the greatest Himalayan peaks were not summited until the middle of the 20th century—the residents living nearby never thought of breaking the record, living on the roof of the world and spending their lives just trying to stay alive. Energy is drained.In this regard, the Balti are no different from the ibex they hunt. They continued west, picking their way between unstable ice and blue glacial lakes.The seasonal weathering effect of the alternation of cold and heat continuously pries the stones loose, and they can hear the echo of the water splashed by the rocks falling into the deep pool.Near the low-altitude clouds in the north is the famous Ogre Peak. This mountain with an altitude of more than 7,200 meters has only been conquered once. It was conquered by British mountaineers Chris Bonnington and Doug in 1977. · Skater hit.But Ogre Peak retaliated on their way down, and Scat was forced to climb all the way back to base camp on two broken legs. The Biafo Glacier climbs to an altitude of 5,000 meters, joins the Hispa Glacier at the snow lake, and then flows down into the Hunza Valley.The Hispa Glacier, with a total length of 120 kilometers, is the longest glacier system outside the two poles of the earth. This natural highway was once the channel for the bandits of the Hunza Valley to plunder the Blaudu River Valley, but now, except for the occasional tower Waha’s excited snow leopard tracks, and two bald eagles hovering curiously in the sky, only the hunting team is walking alone on the entire mountain road. Mortenson walked on the ice for several hours wearing only his sneakers, his feet were already frozen.Tehira's father, Hussein, took stems and leaves from his backpack, folded stacks of hay, and stuffed them in Mortenson's Nikes.How, Mortenson wondered, would these people survive the cold nights in the mountains without tents and sleeping bags?You know, the Balti people had been hunting on the Biafu Glacier for hundreds of years before Westerners brought advanced mountaineering equipment. Every night, the group spends the night in caves lined with ice and stones. The Balti know the location of these caves as well as the Bedouin in the desert know the water source.Dried shrubs were stacked in each hole, along with sage and juniper for kindling.From under the cumbersome rock pile, they brought out the beans and rice they had previously stored, and with the skull-shaped bread "Kurba" baked on hot stones, there was enough food to continue hunting. Four days later, they finally found traces of the ibex—a pair of ibex bones scattered on the flat rocks, licked clean by vultures and snow leopards.Then Tawaha saw sixteen ibex looking for food on the ledge high above the bone, and he shouted: "Skin! Skin!" Skin means "ibex" in Balti.The huge curved horns of the ibex silhouetted beautifully against the changing sky, but they were too far and too high.Tawaha speculated that the dead ibex must have been washed down by an avalanche because it was so far away from where they foraged.He wrenched the sheep's head and horns from the spine and tied them to Mortenson's knapsack as a gift. The Biafo Glacier has carved out valleys between the peaks that are deeper than the Grand Canyon.They climbed up to where the glacier meets the north ridge of Latok, a terrain that has scared off many climbers.Twice they sneaked downwind of the ibex, but both times they detected them and fled before they had time to fire. At dusk on the seventh day, Tawaha saw a ram standing above them, not more than twenty meters away.He filled the musket with gunpowder and loaded the Gundam, and Mortenson and the others crouched behind him, clinging to the bottom of the cliff so they wouldn't be spotted by the clever ibex.Tawaha unbracketed the barrel, steadied himself on a boulder, and pulled the trigger lightly—but too loudly, and the ibex turned suddenly to face them, close enough to see its bristling whiskers. .Tawaha pulled the trigger, and Mortenson saw his lips move as he muttered a prayer. The gunshots were deafening, and a rain of gravel fell.Tawaha's face was blackened by the spray of gunpowder.Mortenson had thought Tawaha had missed, because the ibex was still standing—but almost immediately, the ibex knelt on its front legs, and a hot mist sprayed from the wound in the neck into the freezing air .It struggled to stand up twice, but finally calmed down slowly, and finally fell down. "Allahu Akbar!" The Kerfly shouted in unison. The slaughter began after nightfall, and they took the ram's partial bones into the cave, where they lit a fire.Hussein expertly wielded a scimitar as long as his forearm, and his concentration made him frown slightly, adding a touch of melancholy to his wise, gangly face.He sliced ​​the lamb liver and shared it with everyone.Hussain was the only one among the villagers of Korfi who had left the Blaudu Valley to study in the twelfth grade in Lahore on the plains.But now, seeing him bent over in the cave, cutting mutton with blood on his hands, Mortenson thought that the student life on the sweltering plains of Punjab was long gone for Hussein—and suddenly it occurred to him, Hussein is the most suitable teacher, only he is qualified to connect the two worlds. Before the hunting team returned to the village, the monsoon rain had completely dispersed and the sky was clear and cloudless.Back in the village, they received a hero's welcome.Tawaha, the leader, held the ibex's head aloft, while Mortenson, who was adjourned, put his gift on it—it looked like it had horns. The group distributed small pieces of mutton to the children who crowded the roadside to watch, and they sucked on these delicacies like candy.Hundreds of kilograms of mutton packed in baskets were distributed equally to all families participating in the hunt.After the mutton was eaten, and the brain and onions and potatoes were stewed, Haji Ali hung the ram's horns brought back by his foreign son among the rows of trophies above the gate, which were proofs of his bravery and strength. Mortenson showed a Pakistani army engineer in Gilgit his previous drawing of the bridge design.After careful inspection, the engineer suggested some modifications to strengthen the structure, and redrawn a detailed construction blueprint, clearly marking the location of the steel cables.The revised design calls for two 20-meter-high stone bridge pillars topped with an arched concrete structure wide enough for yak carts to pass, and a 86.6-meter-long bridge 18.5 meters above the water. Suspension deck. Mortenson hired a team of experienced plasterers from Skardu to build the pillars.The stone slab is so heavy that it takes four villagers to lift it up, and then put it flat on the smoothed cement.The children watched happily, and shouted vigorously to cheer them up when their fathers or uncles were carrying stones until they blushed and their necks were thick.One stone after another, built bit by bit, two three-story stone-based bridge pillars finally stood up on both sides of the river, becoming narrower as they went up. The autumn air is crisp, and the hard work has become much more comfortable. Every evening, Mortenson counts the slabs built that day and is very satisfied with the progress of the project.Throughout July, the men are busy building bridges while the women tend the crops.After the solid bridge pillars are built, they are higher than the roofs of all the villagers' homes. Before winter came and everyone was forced to stay indoors all day, the residents of Korfy stayed outdoors as much as possible, and most families had breakfast and dinner on the roof. "Dambro tea" washed down a bowl of rice and bean and vegetable soup "Dal".Mortenson loves to enjoy the evening warmth on the roof with Haji Ali's family, and gossiping with dozens of other families on the roof. Norb Hodge once praised the view of the King of Bhutan, another Himalayan country leader, that the indicator to measure the success of a country should not be the gross domestic product, but the "gross national happiness".On the dry and warm roof of Korfei, surrounded by all kinds of crops that have been harvested this year, eating dinner, smoking, chatting, and enjoying the leisure like an open-air cafe, Mortenson deeply feels that even if With such poverty in material life, Balti still possess the secret of maintaining pure joy.Such simple pleasures are disappearing as fast as old forests in all developed countries. At night, bachelors like Tawaha and Mortenson take advantage of the mild weather and sleep out under the stars.Now that Mortenson's Balti was quite fluent, he and Tawaha often talked about topics that most villagers would even talk about in their sleep. One of the main topics was naturally women.Mortenson was then in his late forties, and Tawaha in his late thirties. Tawaha told Mortenson how much he missed his wife, Rokia, and that it had been nine years since she died in childbirth, leaving behind their only child, Jiahan.They lay on the roof, staring at the Milky Way like a silver scarf. "She is very, very beautiful," Tawaha said. "She has a small face, like Jiahan, and sometimes she suddenly sings or laughs, like a little groundhog." "Are you going to remarry?" Mortenson asked. "Oh, it's easy for me," Tawaha explained, "I'm going to be 'Nur Madhal' (village chief) one day, and I already have a lot of land, but for now I'm I don't love other women." He lowered his voice shyly. "It's just that sometimes I...like..." "Can you do that without being married?" Mortenson asked. This was something he had been curious about since he came to Colfee, but he never had the right time to ask. "Of course," Tawaha replied. "With widows, there are plenty of widows in Korphe." Mortenson thought about the cramped housing below, with a dozen families sleeping side by side on mats. "Where are you all...uh..." "Of course it's in 'Hand Hawk'." Tawaha replied.On the roof of every house in Korfei there are "Hundehocks", thatched huts where grain is stored. "You want me to help you find a widow? I think several have fallen in love with Dr. Gregg." "Thank you," Mortenson thanked Bumin, "but I don't think it's a good idea." "Is there a woman in your village you like?" Tawaha asked.Mortenson then began to recount the major romantic failures of the decade, including his relationship with Marina.He was surprised to find that the pain in his heart had been significantly relieved when he told all this. "Ah, she left you because you didn't have a house?" Tawaha asked. "It happens a lot in Baltistan. But you can tell her now that you have a house in Korfi and you're about to have one." There's a bridge!" "She's not the woman I want," Mortenson said.He found that what he said was true. "You'd better find the woman you want quickly," Tawaha concluded, "before you get old and fat." When they were about to strung the first steel cable between the two bridge pillars, porters returning from the Bartolo Glacier brought news that a group of Americans was coming here.At that time, Mortenson was holding the blueprint in his hand, sitting on the big rock on the north bank of the Blaudu River, commanding the people on both banks to lead the yak team to straighten the main steel cable, and to tie the steel cable as tightly as possible without heavy machinery. On the pylons.The villagers with the most flexible bodies tied the supporting cables round and round at the fixed points marked by the engineer, and then locked it with iron clamps. A majestic American with a trekking pole and a white baseball cap came from the lower reaches of the north bank of the river, accompanied by a handsome bearded local guide. "My first thought was: This guy sitting on the rock is really big," George McCown recalled. "I couldn't figure out what he was doing, he had long hair and he was wearing local clothes , but it is clear that he is not Pakistani." Mortenson slid off the rock and held out a welcoming hand. "Are you George McCown?" McCown shook his hand, nodding in disbelief. "Then, happy birthday to you!" Mortenson smiled and handed him a sealed envelope. George McCown served on the board of the American Himalayan Foundation along with Lewis Rohde and Sir Edmund Hillary.He spent his 60th birthday with his two children, Don and Amy, hiking on K2 and visiting the base camp of the mountaineering team he sponsored.Birthday cards from foundation directors arrived in Escoli and ended up in Mortenson’s hands—local officials assumed that one American would always find a way to connect with another. McCown was the former president and chairman of Boise Gascade Home Building Materials Company, which expanded the company's turnover from $100 million to $6 billion in six years before breaking away from the group to operate independently.He learned business well. In the 1980s, he established his own venture capital company in Menlo Park, Bay Area, specializing in the acquisition of departments or subsidiaries that were difficult to manage due to the excessive growth of other companies.McCown hadn't fully healed from surgery on his knee and had walked on the Bartolo Glacier for several weeks. He was worried about whether he would be able to hold on. When he met Mortenson at this time, he couldn't express how happy he was. "It's been a month away from civilization, in what can be called a dangerous environment, to be able to speak to such a capable young man," McCown said. "I'm really happy." This chance encounter made both of them very happy.McCown said: "Mortenson was not clever at all, he was a gentle giant. When you saw the people he built the bridge with, you knew he was like one of them and they loved him. I can't help but wonder, how does this American manage to do this?" Mortenson introduced himself to McCown's guide in Balti, and when he answered in Urdu, Mortenson realized that his name was Feather Berg, not from Balti, but from far away Afghanistan The Wahi people of the Chapson Valley on the frontier. Mortenson asked if his fellow Americans could do him a favor. “I felt like I was alone in Colfer,” Mortenson said. “I wanted these people to know that there were a lot of people in America who cared about them, not just me.” "He handed me a wad of rupees," recalls McCown, "and asked me to play the big boss from America. Of course I did my best, handing out salaries like a boss, praising them for doing a great job, asking them to do a good job. Go ahead and get the job done as quickly as possible." After saying goodbye to Mortenson and the villagers, McCown and his family continued their journey.But on that day, when the cable connected the two bridge pillars on the north and south banks, a more wonderful fate was also connected.When the situation of foreigners in Pakistan became more and more dangerous in the future, Berg volunteered to serve as Mortenson's bodyguard, and McCown became Mortenson's strongest supporter in his Menlo Park stronghold. In late August, ten weeks after breaking ground on muddy ground, Mortenson stood in the center of the 86.6-meter-long bridge, admiring the neat concrete arches at both ends, the solid three-story stone foundation, and the way all Structurally stable steel cable network cable.Haji Ali handed him the last plank for the bridge to put in place, but Mortenson insisted that Kerfey's village chief complete Kerfey's bridge.Haji Ali lifted the plank above his head, thanked Allah Almighty for bringing the foreigner to the village, then knelt down and used the last plank to hold back the rushing river below the bridge.Women and children watching from high on the south bank of the river cheered in unison. Mortenson once again spent all the money, but he was unwilling to use the funds for building the school. He planned to return to Berkeley in winter to make money, and returned to Kerfair in the spring when he had enough money.The night before returning to the United States, he sat on the roof with Tawaha, Hussain, and Haji Ali to discuss the plan to build a school, and decided to start construction in the summer.Hussein is willing to donate a piece of flat land owned by his wife Hawa to build a school, and stand there to see "Korfei's K2". Mortenson felt it was the perfect place to inspire the kids to think big, and he agreed, on the condition that Hussein would serve as the school's first teacher. They drank sweet tea extravagantly sweetened to celebrate their success, shook hands, and reached an agreement.Then several people excitedly discussed the details of building the school until late at night. 再低两百五十米的地方，河水反射着村民们手中提灯的光亮。他们兴奋地在桥上走来走去，一次次轻松跨过将他们和宽广世界隔离的天堑——而那个宽广的世界，却是摩顿森极不情愿回去的地方。