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had left for Finland, yet here he was in front of me, bigger than I remembered, and
hairier too!
We chatted into the evening and I soon realised that we had both changed a lot.
I had no doubt that we would have an amazing time together, and that we'd both
meet the challenges of the year head on. But would we still share the same spark
and the same values that we had over a year ago? Somewhere, in the back of my
mind, the first seeds of doubt were beginning to grow.
We got ready for bed. Tim had a top bunk sleeper and I watched as he climbed
up to make his bed by stepping on the lower occupant's pillow. I cringed as the
owner of the bed glared furiously at Tim. This was an aspect of his personality that
I'd forgotten. How to describe it? An ability to concentrate on one thing at the ex-
clusion of all else.
I remembered back to the first day I'd met him - the second person I'd gotten
to know at university, just after meeting Nat. We'd sat down to eat sandwiches at
a barbecue before becoming engrossed in each other's stories of adventure. Two
hours later, Tim's conversation faltered as, all of a sudden, he almost fainted with
hunger. He'd been clutching a sandwich for two hours without taking a single bite.
I settled down in my bunk and tried to take in the day. It was only two days since
I'd left Nat and although the pain of parting was still very clear, recent events had
forced me out of my reverie. Tim was a fantastic guy and a great friend, but he was
certainly not Nat, and I would have to try hard not to let the pain of separation af-
fect our friendship. We had both changed, moving on and developing in ways that
were yet to become clear. Adjusting to the changes would probably be a lot of work
for both of us.
Not for the first time, I wondered if what I was doing - this year of adventure in
Russia and Siberia - was
really
what I wanted to do.
———
Ten days later, dishevelled, sunburnt and dehydrated, I limped down to the bus stop
on a badly sprained ankle to wait for a lift back to the train line. In the past week,
I'd climbed a gigantic mountain - twice - and started getting to know Tim again.
Elbrus had taken its toll. Tim had come within an ace of the summit before hav-
ing to turn back with severe altitude sickness. On the way down from a second at-
tempt, I'd fallen on a steep slope and been lucky not to break my leg. The scenery
had been stunning, but we'd spent more time acclimatising than actually climbing.
This meant long hours sitting around in the scorching sun. We'd talked a lot about
our plans. Tim had never really travelled by bicycle before and I wasn't sure if he
