Chapter 11: Face to Face with the Impossible

We climb back snowmobile, Wale fire am towards the mountain.

I dey try reach Xuelong 2, but still nothing.

The nearer we dey, the more my heart dey beat.

As we dey close, na so cold dey increase but sweat dey my back.

Na cone mountain, the top sharp like pin.

For my eye, e pass ten thousand meters, base reach at least two kilometers wide.

No be mountain again; na like monument.

Two hours pass, just as fuel wan finish, we reach edge of the cone mountain.

Wale look fuel gauge, hiss, "Na only miracle remain now."

Less than one kilometer remain.

But that last kilometer na like bottomless pit:

Big cracks don split the two-kilometer-thick ice sheet.

I dey wonder if this na river or real abyss. For my village, dem go say na 'Olum'—spirit river.

As I look down, I fit see lava dey flow for inside.

The fire dey red, e dey shine for my eye like night market lantern.

Past the fire and ice, the black wall of the cone mountain dey stand.

I use binoculars look. The wall smooth, no soil or snow—me I no even sabi the kind rock. E smooth reach like tile for new Lagos mansion—no be mountain matter.

Na so Wale whisper, "No be juju be this? Wetin fit be smooth like glass for this kind cold?"

Wale, as im no dey fear, bring out rope and ice screw, dey find way to go near.

I dey look am, dey wonder where him dey see courage. Maybe na Osun river spirit dey protect am.

We carry our survey equipment, dey climb up and down like ant.

If we tire, we rest for ledge.

If we hungry, we share the last food we get.

Na pure water and chin-chin wey I hide for pocket save us. I thank God say I no greedy.

After three hours, we finally reach the foot of the cone mountain.

I look up, e be like say I dey look heaven gate.

The angle between the mountain and ground pass 80 degrees—almost straight wall, no way to climb.

I check time. Na midnight already.

But na polar day for Antarctica—the sun no dey set.

My brain dey confuse—if not for phone clock, I for think say na afternoon.

Tired reach bone, na only willpower dey push us.

Because of the earthquake and magma, temperature for pole na just minus twenty Celsius.

Na so my face dey red like tomato, but I dey push myself. Wale just dey hum small song, e dey help our spirit.

Wale remove glove, press im bare hand for the black mountain wall.

Na so I dey look, dey pray make e no freeze him hand.

Next thing, Wale ask question wey make my body cold:

"Old Ife, you sure say this cone mountain na mountain so?"