Summer 2005

A selection of images from this years alpine summer can be seen in the gallery.

Were you here in the Alps? Perhaps I drank a beer or two with you in the Office?

So many good times, so many people, Argentiere is the best!

Leaving Dores on the 20th June, I headed out to Rosyth for the ferry to Zeebrugge. The overnight cabin on ship is great, time to relax until next morning when, because of the terrorists actions, disembarkation is a slow process.   No-one should really mind. Life is short enough and any moves to protect the public are applaudable.

By midday I was motoring south. This year, for a change, I drove west towards Calais, then headed down through Arras and joined the autoroute for the reasonably quick journey into the Haute Savoie. The direction change, instead of going south through Belgium, into and out of Germany, through Switzerland to Martigny, proved a success, and I arrived in Argentiere in the late afternoon. Philippe gave me the keys and showed around of my new accommodation above the Rusticana bar/restaurant. This year (and for many more years I hope) I was to have one of the apartments above the bar. It was a dream, a superb room, spacious with everything one would expect, even a television. I soon had my guide books and laptop organised on the table, my gear spread out for easy access and I packed for my first task, an ascent of the Hornli Ridge on the Matterhorn.

 

June 24th and 25th

Ric, a colleague, had booked me along with guides, Dave and Andy, to accompany him and his four clients on the 24th/25th June. The clients were all from RAF Valley, working in helicopters. An ironic twist, as will be seen shortly.

Andy picked me up around 11am for the drive over to Tasch. We were lucky enough to bump into the clients there, as they were just organising a taxi up to Zermatt. So with no train to catch and a short taxi ride up into town, we were soon drinking coffees in the Brown Cow, before planning to take the lift to Schwartzee and the short walk up to the Hornli Hut. Paying my respects to the Bahnof Hotel before leaving, Kathy said the weather looked good, the route in good condition, but the hut was not being manned as usual. Open yes, but no guardian and therefore no facilities. We stocked up with cookable food, stoves and pans just in case, and set off to the hut.

Several other parties, expectedly, were in the hut and we settled down for an early night.

With much fewer people to contend with, and no organised breakfast, we were soon off towards the Hogs Back - the start of the ridge. It was soon clear that Dave and Andy’s partners were not going to carry on. By the time Ric and I had reached the junction with the east face, the others had turned back. Our progress was sure and swift. Even though this was my first route of the season, I felt strong. Pete, my partner, was going well and with Ric and Brian either in front or close behind, we all made excellent progress, and reached the Swiss summit at 9.20am. Ten minutes later, we were all laughing and joking over the team’s success on the Italian summit. Happy in the knowledge we had made great time and had most of the day to get down. It had started to cloud over around 9am but there was little to hint we would soon be in serious trouble with the weather.

It seemed to come from nowhere. Having sent Pete off down the snowy track from the summit, all of a sudden we were enveloped in an incredible and serious storm. Lightning flashed all around us; instantaneous thunder claps were deafening; and stinging hail and snow became a serious threat to us. Keeping control of the situation was very important, and we struggled down through the storm, using every skill at hand to safeguard the clients, and keep them progressing down quickly. It made matters a little worse when I suddenly watched, horrified, when one of my crampons shot off down the east face. For the next couple of hours, I felt I was back climbing as an amateur, climbing to the very best of my ability, steering my crampon-less boot into every crack and foothold, avoiding every snow covered slab, and at the same time holding Pete tight on the rope. Several times he turned to me and asked; “What do we do about the lightning?” My answer was usually the same; “Not much we can do right now, just keep heading down”. We caught up with four Swiss climbers just above the Solvay Hut.   Bundling ropes and clients into the hut, we all felt relieved to be out of the continuing storm. It had taken us over three hours to get down to the hut and we took a few moments to compose ourselves. We started to reason our predicament. Below the hut, the slabs stretched for hundreds of feet with very little protection. I felt an instant decision coming on.

“Ric, there is no way I am going any further. Those lower slabs are covered in four inches of snow, and it’s a death trap. I am calling a helicopter.” He totally agreed with me.

The Swiss team turned out to be two Swiss guides with two clients. They quickly agreed with the call-out and, producing a radio, contacted Air Zermatt.   Communication established, we were told they would come up for us later that afternoon. Brian, however, dampened our enthusiasm for such a lift off that day, by assuring us there was no way a helicopter would fly in such weather. I said; “But you don’t know these guys. They are experts at picking people off from here”.

Brian reiterated; “They will not come today, I assure you”.

Half an hour later, Brian’s views were confirmed when Air Zermatt called back and told us we would have to wait until 5am next morning, but to be ready. Mobile phone messages to Dave and Andy spelt out our situation and they agreed to make sure, back down in Zermatt, alternative plans were made for the following day.

It was a cool night. Everyone was wet, and with one damp blanket each, all eight of us shivered the night away. But it was better than being outside.

The early hours of a morning are the coldest anyway, and we were chilly to say the least. At 4am the Swiss had a call to say we had been relegated to second spot in the pick ups that morning. Three climbers had been out all night on the Fletchhorn. No contest!

Right on the six o’clock button, in totally improved weather, the helicopter hovered over the Solvay Hut and the winchman descended.

Soon, we were all down at the Hornli Hut, safe and well. The ride had been sensational, all four of us Brits down in one lift. Amazing to realise how fortunate we were to be helped so rapidly. Exchanging cards and e-mail addresses with the Swiss (and of course filling in the cards for insurance purposes), we were soon heading down to Schwartzee and the first cabin of the day to Zermatt.

Dave and Andy had had to go back to Chamonix the previous afternoon, but they had masterly organised all arrangements with Air Zermatt before leaving. They of course were in constant touch with us all the time on their mobiles. Their clients greeted us at the Bahnoff with large coffees and food and, now reunited, all that was left was to get down to the cars at Tasch and speed our way over to Chamonix.

Quite an eventful start to my season, don’t you think?

 

June 26th – July 4th

Pre season bookings for actual courses, even Mont Blanc courses, were disappointingly low. I was not alone though. Several guide colleagues were hurriedly offering last minute places on their courses, or cancelling them. My one and only full length Mont Blanc course this season resulted from having to cancel the second one. I had been looking at running the course with just Mark on it, arrangements and commitments having already gone too far to cancel the July course. Then, a stroke of luck as a colleague’s course was cancelled at the last minute and having heard I was running a course at around the same time as was required, I had another client. Another Mark as it happened.

So the course was running. Due to my Matterhorn absence on June 26th, Dave Green helped me by taking over the first day of the course on the guide’s crag. I turned up at 3pm to at least say hello.

Resuming leadership, we traversed the Crochures the next day in fine weather. A day doing crampon and rope techniques on the Mer de Glace followed. Then it was up to the Albert Premier Hut and we completed the ascent of the Aiguille du Tour in good weather the next day. A shorter but more technical day followed on the Petite Aiguille Verte, and then we completed the classic but exhilarating Cosmiques Arête on the Midi. That left the two remaining days for Mont Blanc. From the Gouter Hut we joined a lengthy line of eastern Europeans, and summitted by 6.30am. Descending smoothly, we had refreshments in The Office and celebrated a very enjoyable and successful course.

 

July 5th – 9th

Steve and I had met when I was leading an Ecuador Volcanoes trip last November. Richard had been up the Gran Paradiso with me a couple of years earlier. Our plan was to spend some time over in Switzerland with a final target of the south ridge of the Eiger.

We warmed up and the lads got to know each other on the Petite Verte. The weather was poor and Richard’s experience on Scottish winter climbs paid off. Steve was very strong and substituted any lack of ice axe torqueing skills with brute strength. A great day though, in Scottish grade 2 conditions.

The weather worsened and next day was a write off. Heavy rain turned Chamonix into the drenched climber trails around the gear shops scene.

Conditions improved the next day and right on schedule, we left for Grindelwald and the Obermonchjoch Hut. The weather had been bad there as well, leaving the mountains well covered in new snow. This didn’t affect our first foray next morning – The Monch by its classic ridge from above the hut. Climbing in crampons throughout, but in improving weather, we reached an empty summit in good time and in fine style. The descent was reasonably straightforward, and Steve became more adept at climbing rock with crampons as the day wore on. A very good day indeed.

We had planned to do the Jungfrau the following day, but there was still a lot of unstable snow around, so we hightailed back to the Sphinx tunnel and the train down to Grindelwald and returned to Argentiere.

In better weather the next day, we completed the final day of a great course by the ascent of the Cosmiques Arête.

 

July 10th – 18th       

The boys went home happy, and my wife and children arrived for our annual week or so together in the Alps. Clare had been working on us travelling to Italy and had chosen a place called Finale Ligure for our water sports and sunshine spell, together with a visit to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa as well. Little did she realise, Finale is one of the great rock climbing areas of the world - pristine limestone, steep but well bolted. I couldn’t control my enthusiasm.

We has a great week there, swimming, sightseeing, and of course climbing, with my son, Laurie, in great form in his trainers, on routes of 4a/4b. It was only 3 to 4 hours drive from Chamonix - the sun shone and the pizzas were great. All in all a great holiday. Then it was back to work.

 

July 19th – 24th

 A wet start to JD’s week of climbing.

After dropping off the family early at Geneva airport, I returned to Argentiere amid water strewn roads. We spent our first day on a wet Guides’ Crag, going over crevasse rescue techniques and, in between rain showers, a few of the single pitch routes.

That afternoon, we took the cable car to the Midi, and spent the night in the Cosmiques hut. We thought we’d warm up on the Midi-Plan traverse. So at 3am, we set off back up to the ridge. However, there had been too much snow fallen the previous day and, coupled with the poor (yet surprisingly icy) conditions and JD’s lack of acclimatisation we only managed halfway along. The committing abseils here caused us to reconsider further progress – but, returning back to the Midi, we decided it had been a good start.

Next morning, getting further established in crampons, we made a good ascent of the Petite Aiguille Verte.

JD was very interested in the Aiguille Verte. I’d considered the Moine Ridge for him, but a few conversations with Chris Dale led him to put me off. Tales of loose rock and difficult route finding on the descent persuaded us (and JD) to re-schedule a Verte climb to an earlier period of a future season. We did go up to the Couvercle Hut and made an attempt at the Traverse of Les Courtes. The first early morning at the hut the weather conspired to fox us with thick black clouds and no visibility. Returning to bed, we awoke to find all had cleared and fine day loomed ahead of us. It was too late to start so we spent the day resting at the hut. It’s been a long time since I have been foxed like that.

Next morning, the weather wasn’t as good as the previous afternoon, but we left the hut, hoping for long enough to traverse Les Courtes. The approach to the col was, according to the guidebook, 4 hours. We did knock a half-hour of this but the continuation of one hour to the Les Courtes summit proved unjustified when the snow and the cold started to penetrate even our good clothing. So we returned down the steep icy slopes we had surmounted in the early hours, and back to the hut. Descending the hundreds of feet down the ladders to the Mer de Glace, we were soon re-ascending even more ladders to Montenvers.

JD and I made some plans for a future, earlier season trip together and I bade farewell to him.

 

July 25th   – Believe it or not, discounting my holiday with the family, and any wet weather, this was my first real rest day. Washing clothes and preparing for future courses would be the plan for today.

 

July 26th – 30th

The familiar tones of previous trips with Steve, would ring out, whether in the bar or on the mountains.

“You’re going too slow”, followed by ……..

“I’m doing my best”, to which the reply would be…….

“It’s not good enough!”

Banter with friends is always the best, and Steve and I looked forward to meeting Gareth (‘the wallet’) and doing some great climbing around the Jungfrau and Monch, maybe climaxing with the Eiger’s south ridge. It didn’t pan out quite like we planned.

Firstly, Gareth was a no-show! His company had forced him to change his plans. So a postcard to him plagiarised up a favourite motto of mine:

“Don’t get it done, just talk about it.”! You’ll have read and heard the correct motto before now. I believe Gareth took it in his stride and hopefully is making plans for a return trip another season?

Steve and I continued with our objectives and drove over to Grindelwald, met up with my friends, Kurt and Godi Egger at the Mountain Hostel and (having been allowed to park behind the hostel) we made our way, via the Jungfraujoch train and short walk, up to the Monchjoch Hut. Next day we had a great time, up the Monch in one and a half hours to the summit - this time in near perfect conditions, and descending just as smoothly for a welcome beer and relaxation.

The following day, in also great conditions and weather, we ascended the Jungfrau in good time. Looking across at the Eiger’s south ridge, Steve decided to postpone his attempt on that ridge until a later date. It was a little snowed up, and he felt he wasn’t moving (FAST ENOUGH) for a smooth and safe traverse. So we descended to our car at the Mountain Hostel. Whilst changing into travelling clothes and without me noticing at the time, Steve left his climbing boots on the wall where our car was parked. We only realised on arriving in Argentiere! I tried to make a call, using a number I had, to the hostel. That didn’t work so I rang the Monchjoch Hut and Tanya gave me a different number. This worked and soon I had been told the boots were safe and awaiting collection. Steve announced he’d have to go back for them, as they were expensive and contained inserts which had been also expensive. I was looking at an unexpected day off!

Having driven many miles back and forth to collect his prize, Steve was in no mood to do a big route on his final day with me. Vallorcine, although at first wet, turned a disaster into a fine final day for Steve.

Maybe next season, ‘the wallet’ will be able to join us and we’ll get some more of those plans achieved.

 

July 31st /August 1st – 5th

Sunday was down in my programme as a rest day.

I had unfortunately (mistakenly) agreed with Ron that I would act as a guide to his four clients for the next   five days, so I had to curtail my rest day at 3pm and go up to meet the team at the Albert Premier Hut that evening. Having hired Jonaton, a Swede, to assist me over the next couple of days, we both arrived at the hut (with me exhausted trying to keep up with the strong aspirant). It was the usual situation when one meets a new associate - talking seemed to get in the way of breathing, and we talked a lot on the way up to the hut. Still, I did get to know this nice (and very strong) chap.

In somewhat difficult and serious conditions, the summit of the Aiguille du Tour was reached by both teams and we descended happily back to the hut, and on down to Argentiere.

The rains descended that evening and were still present next day, a big concern for the Mont Blanc ascent chances on a short course, later in the week.

We did go over crevasse rescue techniques but the day was truly washed out.

After the storm, the Petite Aiguille Verte proved too tricky for the team. They had no real mixed climbing experience and in very snowy conditions (I thought it was great!) we reached about halfway to the summit before calling it a day. On the slopes above the base of the steps to the cable car station, Julie managed to pull two of us (Jim and me) up the ropes (supposedly out of a crevasse) in fine, but tiring, style.

Dave was to meet us at Les Houches for the Mont Blanc ascent next morning, Jonaton having gained a client himself, with Dave and me acting as his Guide’s assessors. We caught a slightly later telepherique than had been planned, due to the fact that the usual ticket lady slept in! The company did, however, make amends to the high number of climbers waiting, by putting on an extra train to the Nid d’Aigle, a very nice effort on the company’s part.

So, having lost virtually no planned time, we were soon crossing the Grande Couloir in limited stonefall, and we reached the (crowded as usual) Gouter Hut in good time.

Olivier welcomed us and we were soon established in our bunks, resting before the evening meal.

The weather forecast on the kitchen wall spelt a windy climb coming up. Gusts of over 100kph were expected. Dave and I agreed we’d take it as it comes, give it a go, and be prepared to disappoint the team if we had to.

Dawn saw us resting for half an hour in the Vallot Hut. All had made good progress so far but it was extremely cold and windy. Leaving the cosy hut was a struggle, but on we went. In the clag and the wind I seemed to lose sight of where Dave and his two clients were for a short while. Jonaton and his strong Swedish client met me about an hour from the summit, advising me of the state of the wind. He felt the wind had been controllable to climb through, so bade us good fortune and shot off into the mist. Near the top Dave appeared, descending with his clients, all happy to have all succeeded. The short (!) but arduous trek along the summit ridge in the poor conditions, finally relented and we spent a cool and breezy ten minutes on the summit before making our way back down to the safer reaches and the Gouter Hut. Dave and his two clients greeted us and together we made our slow descent, often cursing the numerous slow-moving eastern-block climbers that these days seem to saturate the slopes of Mont Blanc.

Because of Julie and Jim’s need to catch an evening plane from Geneva, there was no time to lose. So, leaving Dave and his team as soon as we reached the track to the Nid d’Aigle, we sped away and headed for the first available train. Regardless of our pace, we still only arrived at the train station about a half hour ahead of Dave, and there wasn’t a train anyway. So at around 3pm, Dave and our team were re-united (Dave’s clients taking a more leisurely stroll down) and the four of us were soon sitting in comfort (at last) and heading down on the rack railway towards the cable car and Les Houches.

The timing had paid off though, Julie and Jim felt confident they could catch their plane, so we drove them to their accommodation and bade farewell.

 

August 6th   – A welcome rest day. My next client, Danny from Omaha, flew in that morning and arrived in the afternoon, ready for his nine-day course.

 

August 7th – 15th

Danny admitted he hadn’t spent much time recently on rock! A little concerning as we planned to eventually have a go at the Cassin route on the Piz Badile in the Bregaglia, southern Switzerland. So to sort things out straightaway, we spent the first day at Mierville, near Martigny. Years before, I’d found a great rock climb there, a four-pitch and very steep granite route, going at 4c. It was a great climb to have repeated after all these years and Danny had some trouble, but in general was going better than I had feared.

Our plan was to drive the next day to the Englehorner, with the Kingspitz, a mighty and famous rock climb, in our plans.

Driving through Meiringen we stopped for lunch at the Migros restaurant/supermarket. If you are ever in Switzerland and want a mid-day lunch, this is the place to try - great food and relatively inexpensive.

Moving on, we soon were at the car park, where you pay a small tax for the use of the road/track you’ve just ascended, maybe knocking off two hours form the hut walk time! The guidebook said a further one hour - this was too good to be true! In fact we took less than the hour to reach the beautiful hut, set in fabulous surroundings with huge rock walls everywhere. The Kingspitz dominated the right-hand side of the cirque, but unfortunately, was pretty wet after the snow storm the day before. On the ‘phone when booking the hut, the guardian Bruno’s wife, had warned me about the water, but felt it might dry out before the next day.

Sure enough, it didn’t seem right to go for such a difficult and long route unless dry conditions were present. So we chose a warm-up day, climbing a 4b route on the Rosenlaiuspitz, and continuing up and along a great finishing arête to the summit of the Tannenspitz. A great day’s climbing but Danny had some problems pulling on pegs on the steep, sometimes overhanging walls. I was concerned about our success on the Kingspitz, with that sort of form problems.

The evening gave us time to consider our plans. The hut was superb, really nice and comfortable, with super food. I couldn’t understand why we were virtually the only people there? It was mid-week but nevertheless, very surprising.

We decided the Kingspitz, still a little damp that day, should be left for more certain conditions. Across the cirque, almost opposite our rejected route, was a sight for sore climbers’ eyes. An arête of immense size (turned out to be around 2000 feet) seemed to surge upwards to the rim of the canyon-like valley. An added attraction was the knowledge the classic west ridge was only 4b/4c with a couple of points for aid. This was the route for our preparation for the Cassin on the Badile.

Next morning, a mere half hour (truly a great place for rock climbers) led us to the foot of the ridge. A new route had seemingly been put up recently, this following the exact arête, at 6a on most pitches. Our route supposedly started at 3a/b until higher, but always to the right of the arête. The guardian had told me; “If you follow a line of regular bolts, you won’t be on the west ridge route, but on the harder route.” The sweeping slabs we were confronted with were too good to miss, so we spent a couple of pitches on the intricate slabs, linking the bolts together. This was great climbing. But it was a little time consuming, and I soon realised we’d need to crack on to be comfortable for a finish before the afternoon wore on. Disappointingly, even for Danny, I crept rightwards onto easier ground, following less protection now, but great climbing around the 4a/4b grade.

Soon we were on much steeper ground and thankful we were now on the easier route. But it was superb climbing, with great in cut holds. Pitch after pitch relented. I felt my route finding was going well (and it needed to be if we were going to do well on the Cassin). After around four hours of terrific climbing, we reached the ridge which marked the summit area, and advantageously for us, two climbers - a guide and his female friend - were traversing the ridges of the cirque’s peaks, and were nearing our high point. With the tricky route finding on the descent (for first time visitors at least) made easy, we romped down and, after a couple of abseils and much scrambling, we were back in the base of the cirque and heading back to the hut for a well-earned beer.

With time still on our side, we quickly descended the short trek back to the car and, hitting the Zurich autoroute, were speeding towards the Bregaglia.

We had decided to go as far as Chur (pronounced cure) that day, and Danny chose the Hotel   Krone for our overnight stop.

It was a great place. There was a yodelling choir staying for their regular weekly sing-song. A lot of fun was had listening to the songs and drinking a couple of beers as well.

The manageress had said it would take three hours or less to Bondo, so we packed, preparing for an immediate Sass Fura hut walk on arrival. True to the lady’s word, we arrived in plenty of time and so had lunch and were soon speeding (10mph) up the private road leading to the car park. Unfortunately, one has to pay a small tax to use the road (saves at least two hours walking so no contest), but more important, I’d missed the (now) automatic ticket machine at the start of the private road. I should have realised the payment would be before one ventured upwards, but I didn’t. So I had to drive the three or four kilometres back down, or suffer a massive fine without a ticket. We didn’t lose much time and soon were following the steep valley ziz-zags to the hut. Pretty soon, the Badile was in sight and our enthusiasm grew. Danny and I had been to do this route seven years before, bivouacking at the bottom of the famous north ridge. That time, during the night, it had rained and, fearing the well-known lightening that can be very serious on the Cassin route, we had opted for the north ridge. We’d had a great day, and also an epic descent back down the ridge, half climbing, half abseiling off dubious tat (when we could find it). But now, armed with the knowledge that the locals had recently placed four inch diameter rings down the ridge, we felt comfortable to descend the same way again.

But at 6pm, all wasn’t as planned. We’d spent the time after reaching the hut, talking to other climbers, and a couple of Belgians (obviously hard climbers) were going lightweight next morning. But at that time it was heavy rain, and over the next hour or so there was a feeling of doom about the place. We got to our beds around 8pm, with little chance of us going the next morning. We did have an extra day so all would not be lost (although I did have a sneaking desire to be able to follow the hard climbers, for as long as we could keep up with them). They too, had reluctantly abandoned plans for a 4am wake up.

As always, I can never sleep soundly before a big route, and at 2am I was checking the weather - it seemed to have stopped raining but everywhere was damp - my guide being the granite blocks forming the water containers outside the hut.

Renewing my check (while everyone else in the room was sound asleep) at 4am I was astonished - the blocks were bone-dry! Quickly returning to the bunk room, I awoke the Belgians and then Danny.

“It’s good! We have to go!”

The Belgians were up in a flash, Danny not so quickly but eventually, we were all eating the bread and jam breakfasts and stuffing slings and ropes into ‘sacs. To have thought I’d be able to follow the Belgians was foolish. They vanished in the night and that is the last I’ve seen of them - nice couple though.

Descending from our bivouac spot onto the ledge system, we encountered the snow that had caused the deaths of Jules Cartwright and his client last year. It was easy to see how the accident had occurred and I was relieved to be across on drier ground and encountering protection. Soon we were racing up cracks and slabs and really enjoying ourselves. Two Italians were chasing us, overtaking us, then making simple route-finding errors, allowing us to re-take the lead. The going got tougher, laybacking steep corners, some still damp. Always tricky and quite strenuous at the fast pace we were trying to keep up. Overhead, at around 11 o’clock, some ominous clouds became worrying (I started to work out in my mind, as a back-up, how I would operate getting Danny back down if it stared to rain).

But the climbing became harder. Long grooves became steeper and deeper, needing techniques I hadn’t used for a while. Bridging wide with long reaches back into the back of the groove to clip the spaced peg protection. It was strenuous for me and Danny was getting tired. So progress slowed for a while, until we reached what looked like a lessening in angle, and maybe only a few pitches from the ridge. The Italians had resigned themselves to not overtaking by now (I thought they were happy for me to route find) and, after around nine and a half hours, we emerged   onto the north ridge, probably a few hundred feet from the summit area. I have never had the intention of continuing up from that point, so I was soon into our well-practiced drill of ‘stacking’ Danny on the abseil ropes, then off down, locating the next point. All went well until the lower reaches of the north ridge. We had caught up another group of four Italians, and mistakenly started to follow their abseil line. Unfortunately, they were lost! Progress now slowed - we were soon involved in ‘leap-frogging’ ropes, handing coiled roped to the two Italians we had accompanied up the Cassin, and abseiling on their ropes while they set up the next abseil lower down. It all was going quite smoothly. We were certainly nearing the foot of the north ridge. Even though the progress was slow, it was steady, and I had no reason to push things unduly. At around 4.30/5pm, things did go wrong. Having given my coiled ropes to the Italians, they announced that the line of descent was over the ridge on our left, and they would follow the easy track to where I presumed they would set the next abseil up.

Their ropes were great compare to mine! Mine were one 50metre 9.4mm and a 38metre 10.5mm. Theirs were two 60metre 8mm ropes. I had to keep explaining the short rope to them and for them to use the long ropes when necessary. It seemed they were confident on getting down on my ropes, and waved goodbye as I waited for Danny to come down this (could it be?) last big abseil.

Pulling the green, I got the whole rope down before the blue got stuck! The situation was not so good. With no-one behind us, I had no option but to re-tie Danny to the one end of the green 8mm rope and start climbing back up to the left of our descent line. I was now fully ensconced on the north ridge! Although tired, Danny followed politely and after a few pitches of 4a, we were in a position to try and flick the still-held end of the blue rope, in an attempt to free it. Wonders - after only a few tries (because we were pretty level with the problem crack) it came loose and we were free!

All this had taken some time, two hours in fact, and we were now alone, and with no idea where the next abseil might be. Dusk seemed to come too quickly for my liking. It’s always the same, when you have no problems there is always plenty of time, but when you need time, it vanishes rapidly.

Traversing around on the easy path, we came to steep ground, descendable only by abseil at that time of the day. Finding a bunch of slings, we were soon descending 60 metres at a time and still finding abseil points. I realised we were off to the left of the ridge, but even several of these abseil points had mallion rings threaded on, so I knew the line must be well used.

Darkness was now a critical factor. Even by headtorch, it soon became impossible to see the ends of the ropes (60 metres away). So I would abseil down, swinging right to left every 20 feet or so until, fortunately, I would see another bunch of slings. There were times though, when the gear was just not safe enough for my liking. I replaced a rusty nut was my Rock Two and this was linked to a 5mm loop (gulp). A big chockstone in a crack took my best long sling, and several of these anchors consumed my trusty Clog karabiners - treasures I’ve had for years!   But we were doing it - and safely as well. But the hour of 11pm passed and I now could not see us getting down that night. One more abseil and I landed on a terrace (or was it? I couldn’t see much below). Danny came down the 50 feet or so I’d descended and I announced we’d go no further. It was sloping a little - ground which resembled a place you could walk off from. But without better light, I wasn’t going to try! We moved rocks carelessly into the void below us until we had a pretty good surface to lie on. With the abseil ropes still in place as a precaution, we got into our bivy bags and, after munching on some day food and carefully sipping our remaining water, I called the hut from my mobile and announced we wouldn’t be coming any further that night. It was a 11.45pm! The guardian must have seen it all before. In a matter of fact voice, she said; “Oh, you bivouac? See you tomorrow!”

The night soon got cold. The first hour was good after the efforts that day but we soon shivered. But there was not much to do about it so we slept in short doses until gradually, but oh too slowly, the dawn arrived. At around 4am, a series of lights in the distance arrived about 500 metres away. I knew we weren’t far from the approach to the north ridge path, and as dawn finally gave us the clearance to get out of our bags, I could now see everything. I managed to solo (in my trainers) easily up the previous 50 feet and retrieved Danny’s long sling and the rope. Returning down to Danny, we packed and re-roped, then walked across the steep but not desperate slabs until, in 15 minutes or so, we were on the approach path back to the hut. It still took quite a while to get back there - a distance we’d never have done in the dark. So I was satisfied with my decision to stop when we did. The hut was a welcome sight and the ham and eggs I had dreamed of all night were gulped down in a short time. Danny got the cokes in at four at a time for us both, as we re-hydrated after a great climb and an interesting finish.

 

The Cassin, on the Piz Badile, was the last of the famous ‘Six North Faces’ for me after having done, over the years: the Eiger, the Matterhorn, the Walker Spur on the Grande Jorasses, the Dru North Face, and the Comici Route on the Cima Grande. These six faces are epitomised in Gaston Rebuffatt’s book, ‘Starlight and Storm’. I was happy to have completed all six, even if the last one proved a bit of a test!!

Descending from the hut and returning, via Chur for the night again, was a pleasant trip after our Badile experience. Danny was at his limit for rock climbing, he told me later, but I was happy for us both, and we wallowed in hotel luxury until the drive back to Argentiere.

 

August 15th – We had a rest day. Danny flew back to Omaha on the 16th. It had been a great trip all round.

 

August 16th – 20th

No peace for the wicked. Ian arrived for his annual week with me. He had ideas about the Verte, as had JD in mid-July. After that course had discovered the pitfalls of a late attempt on the Moine Ridge, I quickly explained the situation to Ian, and we took each of his projects in turn and discussed their possibility.

Warming Ian up on the Cosmiques Arête proved an ideal plan and we had a great time, climbing throughout in crampons, on a somewhat murky day. But all went well, and Ian was off.

The Arête du Papillons had been, since his last visit with me, unfinished business. Before, he had been uneasy to go much more than a few pitches up the route. Now he was prepared. We had the route virtually to ourselves (a large team of Spanish were just starting to retreat from the first pitches when we got there). We saw no-one else on the route all day until we saw three French guides descending from the normal route in the   early afternoon. Mission accomplished. Ian told me later, he felt he had made the right choice the previous time. The ‘Sentry Box’ pitch, always the crux, had been his most trying moment on this climb.

The weather broke that afternoon and a mountain route high up was not on next day. We drove down to Annecy and as we drove, I rang my friend, Bernard, always a good one for ideas in this great rock climbing area. But I also had an idea, so I pre-empted his suggestion of a route, by asking him about the famous Via Ferrata above Thones, just north of Annecy. Bernard had shown me the huge cliff, some 250 metres high, but with the Via Ferrata route climbing over 600 metres. Bernard agreed it was a good choice for the day. He’d recently visited Thones with Chantel, his partner, and they’d just gone and done it, climber style. So we did the same - using screwgate karabiners, on short and long slings - to clip into the metal ladder rungs, equi-spaced every 12 inches or so.

The trip was sensational, going through some incredible scenery. Always steep, yet with only short overhanging sections, the only problem Ian had at times, was to hold on and reach down to move his two safety karabiners and slings over the next fixed point on the safety cable next to the rungs. I sometimes had to come right up underneath him and release the karabiner for him.

I plucked up my courage to do the variation top section, incredibly overhanging but, with rope access training and years of aiding practice, it was straightforward. One just had to be systematic! I had the bonus of a following Frenchman who took some pictures with my camera as I did that terrific section, he following, as Ian had done, on a more straightforward finish, an overhanging ladder, which one ascended on the inside!   A great day and one I must repeat, although I will investigate the proper equipment for next time.

With the poor weather still present in the high mountains, there wasn’t much hope of Ian getting another project completed this season. The Rochefort Ridge and the Verte would have to wait for another year. A day at a rather damp Vallorcine improved Ian’s rock climbing skills, and he was pleased with his improvement. The final day of his course was a little disappointing, for me as well as Ian. Checking my ‘Swiss Plaisir’ guidebook for a long, but reasonably graded route, my eyes scanned an area I’d looked at many times in the book. A crag called Pissevache seemed to be perfect for the final climb. A six pitch route going at maximum 5a, with most of the pitches easier. The crag was situated near Martigny and, as I’d been to Mierville with Danny previously, I felt it was about time I found this place. We drove over the two passes and down to Martigny. The weather looked threatening but it was worth as shot. All we had to do was follow the map in the guidebook. Not so easy though. Driving high above the town, we even asked some locals for directions, but there were so many false trails on the wooded hillside. Most led to dead-ends and we did a lot of doubling back. Eventually we got it right and traversed some very steep ground aided by a rope cable. Arriving at a point we recognised as the very left hand section (and our route lay a good 500 metres further right) we considered the time and the weather. The time was proving the most important thing to consider, as Ian would have trouble doing six pitches of good climbing at a fast pace. So we called it a day, and agreed that on Ian’s next trip to the Alps, we should come back and do the climb - we wouldn’t have the problems of finding the start again.

Re-ascending the slippery slopes, the path seemed much more obvious now and I felt annoyed that I’d taken so long to get to the start of the cliff. In some ways it was a blessing in disguise though, as shortly before reaching the biggest path back to the car, the heavens opened. We would have been caught high up in the rain!

I think Ian was even more relieved than me that we hadn’t started a route!

We drove back to Argentiere, already making plans for a return visit, and hoping for some decent mountain weather next time.

 

August 21st – 29th

David C and David Mac arrived in a hire car, ready for a series of training routes and a final ascent of Mont Blanc. David C had already summitted the peak via the Cosmiques Ridge several years before. That day we had had poor weather and an epic of sorts. A late return to the Cosmiques Hut by my party and a worrying time for David C’s party waiting for us at the hut in very poor weather. We had arrived late to find we weren’t the only party to have had problems! Plenty of stories to tell there!

Last year, the same team included Claire, David Mac’s wife. I think she had been led to believe the challenge was easier than it was. Although in excellent shape through fitness training, the whole concept of rock climbing and snow and ice climbing was very alien to her. David Mac hadn’t done very much either apart from a visit to the Cairngorms for some late winter routes with me and even that visit was shortened through blizzards. A little later on, we all managed to salvage the week’s course by travelling over to Zermatt and climbing the Breithorn in good weather. Claire had sat it out at Kliene Matterhorn, with a good book. As 2004 had presented some pretty poor weather to us in Chamonix, we hadn’t been able to complete a traverse of the Aiguille Crochures in the Aiguille Rouges. So this was to be our first target in 2005 - the plan made much easier as there was virtually no snow left at this time of year. After the Crochures Traverse we would go over to Grindelwald and do the Monch and Jungfrau, followed by a final acclimatisation peak, the Weissmies. Then it would straight back to Chamonix and a final assault on Mont Blanc.

The trip along the Crochures Traverse proved good, but also showed that David Mac’s recent travelling all around the world with his work had prevented him from getting ready for this course. Having virtually sat at a desk or in an airline seat for the previous two months, he hadn’t been able to train at all. Unlike David C, who felt better than he had ever done before.

The initial chimney leading to the ridge showed the problems immediately. Awkward climbing requires flexibility and David Mac suffered due to the lack of fitness training. We managed to get along to the remaining snow leading down to Lac Blanc before the rain hit us, but with knees causing great pain, David Mac’s descent to the middle station became purgatory.

Determined to get it right, we agreed to continue our plan, so we set off for Grindelwald. The train ferry through to Kandersteg was strangely closed so we had to take the autoroute around through Bern. The weather wasn’t good in Chamonix, but no amount of forecasting could have told us of the desolation we would find as we approached Wilderswil, just before the turn off to Grindelwald. It had been raining for a while before we turned off the main road into the quaint little village, and we came to an abrupt halt in a line of traffic. Over to our left, the river seemed very high, starting to come over into the fields and then into the town itself. We waited to move on when what obstruction there was ahead of us, cleared. After a time, it was obvious that there was a real problem ahead. David C took a stroll along the traffic queue to see what was happening. He left us just as the vehicles ahead started to turn around - the road to Grindelwald and Lauterbrunnen was closed! It seemed that, ahead of us in both valleys, the rain had done some damage and there was no estimate of when the roads would open again.

We turned around and headed for Interlaken. We were amazed at the scene already in Wilderswil since we’d passed through earlier. The village was virtually underwater - people doing their best to stem the flow of water from the rapidly widening river. Back in Interlaken, the tourist office was completely packed with tourist and locals all trying to establish what was happening. We had a meal in the famous restaurant, Hooters, and met some Brits who told us they were camping up in Lauterbrunnen. They had come down to Interlaken for a tourist day and now were unable to get back to their camp. Resigned to staying in town, they had been buying sleeping bags, ready for a night in their car!

This didn’t bode well for us so, with still no progress news from the tourist office, we decided to pull out and go back to Argentiere. David Mac did a great spell of driving and we returned to our base, mobile phones doing their duty, advising the Monchjoch hut and the Hotel Savoie of our change of plan. We were a little disappointed we couldn’t get to Grindelwald, but we had no idea of the destruction that had been caused by the rain that evening. We were to find out later.

Back in Argentiere, we decided to go up to the Cosmiques Hut and climb the Mont Blanc du Tacul, a good training peak for Mont Blanc. The night in the hut was good - not many climbers around - and we set off at 5am for the route. Very soon it became clear David Mac’s problems were more acute than we thought. The night climb was in fabulous conditions, but David Mac was having great problems with knees, bad blisters and, worst of all, altitude breathing. The pace slowed and, after reaching halfway up to the final ridge, I felt it was too serious to continue on. We turned around and went back to the Col du Midi. I knew David Mac was not going to like the return up the snow arête to the cable car station, but there wasn’t any choice.

At what stage he had made the decision, I’m not sure, but after the gruelling ascent and the cable car journey down to Chamonix, it was back at the apartment that David C called me and told me that David Mac was calling it a day and going home. Sadly, I knew it was the right decision. Apart from the breathing and lack of fitness, the blisters on David’s heels were in a bad way. He wouldn’t be able to do any more climbing anyway.

Within an hour, all reservations were changed and he was gone!

A little stunned by events, David C and I sat in The Office bar and considered what to do. I was convinced we should drop the idea of Mont Blanc, as David C had already climbed this peak, so we should do something new for him.

Grindelwald still featured in David C’s plans, as it was a different and new area for him and the peaks we’d planned to climb still seemed attractive. But what was the situation with the road?

Calls to the Monchjoch Hut established the road was open, and there was a 30 minute one-way system operating. This seemed OK so, with a good weather forecast, we set off to Switzerland again. No amount of information could have forewarned us of the desolation we would now see in the Grindelwald valley. An incredible sight lay before us. The river had torn the valley to pieces. The road was completely destroyed at several points. The main bridge over the river was gone, the remains hanging, like a in a film shot, over the raging torrents.

We were being shepherded in convoy every 30 minutes up one of the older, narrower roads through the village houses on the hill above the main road.

But there was more to come! Eventually arriving in Grund, below Grindelwald, I steered my car through debris and into the entrance of the Mountain Hostel, where I would ask Kurt and Godi Eggar, my guide friends and owners of this great hostel, if I could park my car behind the building, as usual.

It seemed there was some damage to the hostel, as Kurt was directing helpers with wheelbarrows and shovels, clearing debris from the hostel. Kurt shook his head sadly and said to me; “We won’t be able to open again until Christmas. The water has come right through the hostel!”

We had to park in the main car park, but were soon packed and on the train to the Jungfraujoch. It was snowing as we trudged up to the Monchjoch Hut and we prayed for better weather the next day. At the hut, Tanya and Martin, the wardens, welcomed us with more tales of woe from the valley below. Their own house had narrowly escaped destruction, but several of their neighbours were not so lucky.

The evening slipped away with the good banter of fellow guides and plans for the Jungfrau before the Monch were made. It seemed Frank, a German guide, his partner, and their three clients would also be on that route. Next morning, there were some other climbers along with us as well.

It was a seriously misty morning, but the forecast was much better for later, so I decided to let the local boys do the leading after reaching the Sphinx tunnel area. Sure in their navigation, they led down the bulldozed track in completely blank visibility. At a bend in the track, a flag pole turned out to be an important marker for the branch off to the base of the ridge we were heading for. I would remember that flag pole in future.

Reaching the rocky start to the ridge, there was lots of snow around and it was clear some of the clients ahead of us were having trouble with the scrambling required. Taking a snowy couloir not normally there, I quickly passed to the front of the queue. Frank waved me through and I led David up the mixed ground to the start of the traverse around the buttress. David was doing fine, but I was aware that the traverse was much more serious than the normal horizontal scramble along a steep track. Front pointing along the step snow now lodged on the track, I was aware of the dangers and made good steps for David to follow. I also made sure David moved absolutely correctly each step of the way.

“Keep the front points straight in”

“Keep your heels down”

“Stay in my step”

The advice rang out constantly until we were both safely across and around onto the more slabby ridge. Still preferring to follow bands of snow rather than the slabs of granite, we slowly made our way up onto the easier angled snow slopes on the ridge.

The other parties were a little way behind at this stage, but Frank and his colleague, with their three clients, gradually caught us up, I was breaking train through six inches of snow though. Letting the younger guides break trail for a while seemed a good idea so I stopped and we put some cream on our faces and looked busy.

Frank led off and for a nice period we walked easily up the ridge. It was not to last! Frank stopped where the ridge flattens out before the long gradual rise to the steep headwall before the Rottelsattel - the start of the more difficult climbing.

“You must make the trail!”

I was well used to German idioms and I knew there was no malice in Frank’s comment. Passing the huddle of climbers I switched into gear and, at that point, I decided to go for the top, always in front.

David was doing OK and we cruised ahead of the following two groups. Reaching the steep wall I lengthened the rope and led off across the bergschrund. As I was in front I was able to choose my point of crossing the crevasse, and it went smoothly and easily. Soon I was front pointing up the steep but well consolidated snow wall to the Rottelsattel.

However, the ridge of snow leading rightwards towards the dangerous crossing to the ridge was not in very good condition. Deep snow hung on the very sharp edge and it became very serious. More shouting and instructions followed, until the land widened before the more serious traverse left.

After several fatalities at this section, the local guides had placed steel poles to act as anchors, and these poles are set in the rock under the snow, conveniently spaced about 25 metres apart. Still breaking trail in the deep snow, I edged my way across the danger zone, advising David not to move until at least one pole had a runner between us. Soon I was climbing up the final, but seemingly endless, ridge. Making a thousand steps is hard work, but I persevered. The other groups were a way behind so there was no point in hoping for some help in the trail-breaking. David was doing wonderfully well and we slowly but surely inched our way to the summit, arriving in a splendid guidebook time (five hours, in poor conditions as well) and this time, a completely snowy peak. None of the usual rocks were visible due to the recent snow storm.

The Germans and their clients joined us on the summit and thanked me for the tracks I had made. I told them to go down first, as I knew we would be slower. After a short period of photos and food on the summit and, with the two German groups leading, we all headed down.

More instructions followed:

“Don’t lean back”

“Dig your heels in”

“Turn around and front-point down. It is too steep here”

Going down, although serious with the sections of wind slab, is always easier and David was doing great! We were soon waiting for the other clients to complete sections of the descent to the traverse and the poles, and soon I was top-roping David down the steep wall to the bergschrund.

“When you reach the edge, turn and jump, it is easier that way”.

The operation completed successfully, I was also soon in the air and down with the other groups. We shed clothing, had water and turned for home. We took the direct descent rather than following the ridge. This had been made easier by the group of climbers who had been with us from the hut. These had turned off the ridge and not continued on the route, choosing to abandon their climb and descend. Their tracks made it a lot easier, knowing the slopes were relatively safe from avalanches.

We soon reached the easy section of the descent and were crossing back towards the Jungfraujoch station, trying to politely avoid being photographed with the tourists - we failed!

Sipping Coke and resting in the café, David announced a change of plan. The idea of returning to the hut and tomorrow, doing the Monch, was now abandoned. David was happy with the trip and had had enough.

Unfortunately, he had left his cassette recorder at the hut and so he volunteered to go back for it and, of course, settle our bill.

I remained with the rucksacks and the time passed reasonably quickly. Under two hours later we were heading down on the train.

A quick change of clothing and footwear and I drove down through the devastation, turning once more into Interlaken, and stopping at Hooters for a great meal and drinks before heading back to Kandersteg and the train ferry.

We arrived in Argentiere in time for a nightcap at the Rusticana, the end of a great trip.

David’s final day was awarded a rest day, but in great weather David did walk up to Lac Blanc. In no way would he allow me to participate - I seemed to have done enough.

So I did my admin, washed some clothes and we re-united later for a final meal at The Office.   We were elated, not just for a great climb and course, but we had also won the test match!

 

David has gone, it is Tuesday and I am on my first of four days without work. On Friday next (September 3rd ) I start my next course with The Office team, and then Kevin arrives for a six day traverse of the Monte Rosa range.

After that I’m out of here!

 

I will complete the story on the ferry from Zeebrugge to Rosyth.

 

See you then.