Weekend Alpinism

Wednesday Morning – walking across the meadows to George Square
“Do you fancy going to the Alps for the weekend? The weather forecast is good and I’ve heard the Droites is in good condition.”
Konrad doesn’t need much persuading.



GBH Party – Thursday night, 11.30pm
I push my way through the body painted mass of the EUMC and head for the door, having felt slightly old and self-conscious whilst clasping a cup of tea for the past half hour. I pass Konrad dressed in a wedding gown and remind him of the ten to five alarm call in the morning.



Car Park of the Grands Montets Telepherique, Argentiere, Friday 2pm
“Have you got a lighter Sam?”
Cue frantic search of pockets followed by a hurried drive back down the road to Chamonix.
One hour later back at the car park, I pull my boots out of the car and suddenly remember the broken lace on one. Another trip down the valley is needed, delaying the walk in by a further hour.




Argentiere Refuge, Friday 8.30pm
The long slog up from Argentiere is a drag, four and half of walking and 1500m of height gain drains the legs, especially in the knowledge that we have to get up in four hours time. Still, the autumnal trees were pretty and the setting sun turning the Aiguille Chardonnet and Aiguille d’Argentiere blood red was a memorable sight.
First glance at the face in the fading evening light worryingly reveals ice in all the right places, no excuse now and the knot in the stomach tightens further.




Bergschrund, Saturday 3am
We left the refuge an hour and a half ago, the whole situation feels increasingly bizarre considering we were at the GBH party 24 hours ago. The 1000m of La Ginat (ED1) lies above us, 500m of 60 degree ice slope, followed up an orion face (harder on the day) style headwall tacked on top and then 100m of easy ground to the breche, just what my unacclimatised lungs called for. No moon tonight and the ‘schrund rears suddenly rears out of the slope, a quick ferret around reveals an improbable way through on the right but fears are assuaged by the reassuring squeak of perfect neve.
We continue up into the darkness, moving easily together over the lower icefield, the only respite for burning calves being the occasional pause to place a screw.


Headwall, Saturday 8am
A cunning sleight of hand (and a rather strange decision by Konrad to stop 50m below the steepening) gives my partner the first pitch. He pulls it out the bag on the unconsolidated 80˚ wall, no decent runners for 25m with the consequence of a slip unthinkable for both. The next five pitches fly by, most of them more than 60m due to a magical extending rope.
The wall is plastered in Styrofoam, a pleasure to climb but yielding mainly ‘sub-optimal’ screws. We climb up in virtual silence, the need for conversation negated by the practised efficiency that comes from the cumulative hours spent climbing together (plus Konrad’s chat stinks). The spell is broken on the last steep smear. I get halfway and begin to wobble, worn out by 900m of ice below and the thin air around, with my calves on fire I manage to traverse a little left and belay. Konnie doesn’t fancy the last 30m either and we manage to avoid the meanest looking bit by some steep mixed climbing to its left.





Breche des Droites (3950m), Saturday 3pm
The view of Mt Blanc and the Valais is breathtaking, but this is maybe down to the last 150m of deep, soul-destroying powder in the final gully coupled to my unacclimatised lungs straining for oxygen. The view of the gully we have to abseil down is less pleasant. Five hours later we’re sitting on a small ledge, its dark, getting cold and I’m certainly exhausted. The rap down the gully was worse than it looked. Both of us managed to narrowly avoid being squashed by huge falling blocks, the ropes got repeatedly tangled thanks to the shallow angle of the couloir and to top it all off I ran out of water about two hours ago.

Rognon de Talefre, middle of the Talefre Glacier, Saturday 11pm
“Konrad, I can’t go any further lets just get out of the breeze behind this rock and spend the night here.”
I eventually stirred from the small ledge and we completed the last rap to the glacier, the bergshrund was hard to cross and we blundered about in the dark for a while. By the time we reached the middle of the glacier I was completely spent, my fuel tank was pushing empty and the lack of water was contributing to a very dodgy head gasket. Even though the Couvercle hut was only about an hour further on, reaching it would involve traversing a very crevassed area or a considerable descent and re-ascent. I was spending the night here.



Couvercle Refuge, Sunday 8am
I’ve had better nights but also worse. It can’t have been colder than about minus two and you can get surprisingly warm in a bothy bag, I also managed to resist the dubious pleasure of spooning with Konrad…
The stove was on at the Couvercle when we arrived and after draining enough water to cool Sellafield, I was revived by soup and smash that’d been meant for the previous night.



Montenvers, Sunday 1pm
Always a nice feeling when you’re down safely, wasn’t looking forward to the final slog down to Cham because the train was closed but the tingly glow of success was beginning to flow to my weary extremities and the thought of a 'special' at Poco Loco drove me on.



Micro Brewery, Chamonix, 7pm
Beer!



Edinburgh, Monday 1pm
Mission Accomplished. We made it back on schedule despite a very blonde morning that involved me losing my wallet twice, once in Geneva airport and once on the plane (got it back though).
Weekend Alpinism certainly beats vegetating in the Burgh. It was knackering, but nothing equals sitting in the sun at around
4000m on a Saturday afternoon with a 1000m ice face below you feet and the whole of the Alps spread out on either side.