backcountry journal
April 06
I had no idea how long we had been going, but could tell we were nearing the top of the Tacul as the effect of altitude became evident. This was the first time I had been above 4000m and I felt weak and tired and frustrated at trying to co-ordinate our group movements whilst short-roping over tricky bits. The rope frequently becomes twisted around your leg and to fix this I once kicked out lightly with my foot. We were on a steeper part and Steve was directly behind and below me. Luckily I only flicked my foot back as I caught him in the face with my crampon spikes, just missing his eye. He yelled and for a nervous few seconds was checking for blood. The skin was broken but it didn't bleed. I felt guilty. For some time I was not feeling so great and was shivering a lot. Eventually we stopped for a break near the summit shoulder at 4200m.
The early stages of mountain sickness were with us. We had been going for a little over three hours and I was shivering really badly. It was freezing, no wind, just really deeply cold under the stars without one ray of sunlight. I tried eating a frozen chocolate bar but was shivering so much that my attempts to chew become uncontrollable dribbling. I managed to get most of the chocolate down my throat and felt a bit better. We headed off again, passing one of the guides and one of the guys in the team. I thought that they were just taking longer to get their rope sorted out. A few hundred meters later we started our wobbly descent down to col Maudit. I looked back and the seperated group of two from our team were heading off in another direction. Poor Neil (not the guide, the other Neil) had decided to pull out. I think it was his third attempt and I felt really sorry for him having to make that decision and watch us walk away into the distance. Without doubt, I felt like crap at that stage. Later on he told me that it was the worst he had ever felt on a hike and he knew how much harder it was going to get. He made the right decision, it got way harder and to break down further on would have required a big effort just to get off the mountain. He pulled out at the strategically correct time for the whole group. I think it must have been a very hard decision to make. From there I was happy to hear that he and the guide went off, watched the sunrise and our slow progress from afar and then clocked up an excellent descent from Mont Blanc du Tacul, followed by a full day of backcountry hiking and riding.
On the way down to the col we were all wobbling and tripping a bit. I lost my balance and caught a crampon spike on my inside knee. It tore through my pants and for a moment felt like it penetrated the skin. The eastern sky had turned a very feint deep dark blue and I was once again freezing cold as we stood at the base of Mont Maudit. Still too dark to see what we were up against, we talked about how this was supposed to be our biggest challenge, if we beat Mont Maudit then we would gain the summit of Mont Blanc. Maudit is French for bitch and this peak was an absolute maudit. From the col we had to climb a seemingly simple 400 vertical meters, so away we went. One of the guides headed off to check the higher conditions under foot. We stood for long enough that I yet again started to shiver and my fingers felt like they were going to snap off. In his Scottish accent Steve suggested I put my hand in my 'alarm' pit. I took he piss out of him and put them in my arm pit, which helped. After a while the recon guide yelled out that it looked ok, we should give it a go. In that time the sky had filled with dim light and pretty soon the very early morning was warming our backs as we climbed. That was good for moral, because I otherwise was feeling a bit out of sorts.
The early stages of mountain sickness were with us. We had been going for a little over three hours and I was shivering really badly. It was freezing, no wind, just really deeply cold under the stars without one ray of sunlight. I tried eating a frozen chocolate bar but was shivering so much that my attempts to chew become uncontrollable dribbling. I managed to get most of the chocolate down my throat and felt a bit better. We headed off again, passing one of the guides and one of the guys in the team. I thought that they were just taking longer to get their rope sorted out. A few hundred meters later we started our wobbly descent down to col Maudit. I looked back and the seperated group of two from our team were heading off in another direction. Poor Neil (not the guide, the other Neil) had decided to pull out. I think it was his third attempt and I felt really sorry for him having to make that decision and watch us walk away into the distance. Without doubt, I felt like crap at that stage. Later on he told me that it was the worst he had ever felt on a hike and he knew how much harder it was going to get. He made the right decision, it got way harder and to break down further on would have required a big effort just to get off the mountain. He pulled out at the strategically correct time for the whole group. I think it must have been a very hard decision to make. From there I was happy to hear that he and the guide went off, watched the sunrise and our slow progress from afar and then clocked up an excellent descent from Mont Blanc du Tacul, followed by a full day of backcountry hiking and riding.
On the way down to the col we were all wobbling and tripping a bit. I lost my balance and caught a crampon spike on my inside knee. It tore through my pants and for a moment felt like it penetrated the skin. The eastern sky had turned a very feint deep dark blue and I was once again freezing cold as we stood at the base of Mont Maudit. Still too dark to see what we were up against, we talked about how this was supposed to be our biggest challenge, if we beat Mont Maudit then we would gain the summit of Mont Blanc. Maudit is French for bitch and this peak was an absolute maudit. From the col we had to climb a seemingly simple 400 vertical meters, so away we went. One of the guides headed off to check the higher conditions under foot. We stood for long enough that I yet again started to shiver and my fingers felt like they were going to snap off. In his Scottish accent Steve suggested I put my hand in my 'alarm' pit. I took he piss out of him and put them in my arm pit, which helped. After a while the recon guide yelled out that it looked ok, we should give it a go. In that time the sky had filled with dim light and pretty soon the very early morning was warming our backs as we climbed. That was good for moral, because I otherwise was feeling a bit out of sorts.
Mont Maudit from the summit of du Tacul. Not an easy climb. Some ice.
A close up shot of Mont Maudit. We went over the gap in the rocks in the middle of the ridge line. You can see the pleasant ice band quite clearly
We were in two rope teams of 3, the other group was ahead of us a little and appeared to be making easy progress. Our guide would lead-off with the rope, heading up perhaps 40 meters. Steve and I would then climb up to his position. We started the climb at 4000m and so already felt a little weak. As we gained height I felt progressively weaker and weaker with each pitch becoming harder. The climbing would be considered easy for most experienced mountaineers, although this face does get noted as being deceptively hard. It took almost 4 long and tiring hours to reach the summit. We climbed by kicking our crampon toes into the snow, driving the ice axe pick into the face above us, then kick-stepping our points in again a little higher up. It became quite a good rhythm, which I enjoyed: kick, kick, axe, kick, kick, axe…. For a while I was slamming the axe into the ice the wrong way and when I drove it home I also punched the icy hard snow surface often enough that my right fist was getting swollen and bruised. I had never really done this before and so I watched how the other guys did it and saved my knuckles. The climbing surface was at times extremely icy but never rock hard glacial ice, always white ice, something between snow and ice. You could slam the two front crampon points into the surface, even on the hardest parts. Mixed with this were relatively softer areas that allowed you to kick a step as deep as half a boot length or better. After each short pitch we would cut ourselves a little platform and drive the shaft of our ice axes into the surface to make ourselves secure as Neil lead away on the next pitch.
Stevo has since complained about the quality of this shot. We are part way up Mont Maudit not long after the sun came up.
By half way up I was well and truly stuffed. It was physically hard work in depleted oxygen after several hours of lugging our equipment and snowboard on our backs. The slope angle was between 40 and 50 degrees and I swear at the top it was 55. Steve and I were starting to weaken and at times I could feel his weight pulling back on my harness, which made it hard for me. As each pitch passed we became aware that we were in the same boat and exhaustingly we pooled together and tried to beat the hill in small steps. About three quarters of the way up after a nice 10 minute break Steve and I agreed that we would make it, we would make it all the way the the Mont Blanc summit. Steve predicted that "this one is in the bag". If it was in the bag, then it struggled like hell to get back out for hours to come. In the last few pitches up Mont Maudit I felt genuinely very bad from tiredness and altitude sickness. We were approaching 4400m and every extra 100m of vertical above 4000m was exponentially more difficult to handle. I had a thumping headache and felt sick. Physical exertion was the last thing I wanted to do and it was with apprehension each time Steve and I said "ok, lets go!" and headed up to where Neil was belaying us from.
The typical disclaimer: this picture does not show the steepness very well. Neil climbing towards the bergschrund and ice band. In this area the snow was soft enough to kick a good deep step which made the effort significantly less. As usual it looks like crawling on hand and knees. It isn't: he is almost upright and using the ice axe.
The last pitch required a small jump and climb over an open bergschrund. Whilst Neil set the belay at the summit I poked around it with my ice axe and the gapping hole dropped away to blackness. It was steep and we were exhausted. The last push and arrival on the ridge was a blessing. Even though we felt like death, we could see the Summit of Mont Banc for the first time! We had been going for a little over 7 hours, of which 4 hours were spent gaining 400m up Mont Bitch. We made it over the hardest part in terms of technical difficulty. Everyone expected the snow to be way too hard and icy and we would fail. It was indeed hard and icy, so icy that it took way too much valuable energy just getting the pick of the ice axe back out of the face. But we made it and I had graduated from my first real mini-mountaineering effort. I also had one of the nastiest headaches in living memory.
The summit of Mont Blanc! It looks exactly the same up close as it does from 3.8 kms below: A big white eggy peak. We were planning to ride down the shadowed northern face on the right. I can assure you that this whole scene looks much smaller than it is. There is a lot of scale and ground in this picture.
continued on the next page