' as ever the brooding silence was broken only by the sound of rocks crunching under our boots. the last few miles were pock marked with steep shale outcroppings, monuments to a volcanic age long gone by. we noticed the bones of pack animals strewn helter skelter along our path. the Sherpa who had deserted us so quickly on our ascent had warned us of the yeti, had promised our deaths as soon as we gazed upon the beast. now, here, we have travelled so far and for nothing. our supplies had lasted us well. we ate the last of the hardtack for lunch and even had some coffee left. the night brought a dense fog with, creeping along the valley like a ghosts long fingers. we could see the lanterns of the village below us. Captain Smith and i decided to stop for the night. the village was another hour away, always better to approach a Tibetan village by dawns light. wordlessly we set the tent, built a fire and hunkered down against the bitter frost. i lit up my pipe with the last of my tobacco, Captain Smith effortlessly rolled his cigarette while humming some old song. we sat there in a comfortable silence gazing thoughtfully into the fire, gazing into the infinite. suddenly a loud snap came out of the darkness.' YETI DIARIES November 1812