Its 2am, its my 39th birthday and I’ve just woken up in a bed with at least 11 other people, its -20C outside and I’m about to test myself beyond anything I’ve done before. Life is good. The sky is crystal clear with more stars than I’ve ever seen before, not a breath of wind and not a cloud to be seen. There is a spectacular view to
Yesterday it was apparent that Matt’s speed would be better matched to Steve and Emmanuel’s faster natural rhythm where as Robbie’s more alpine pace suited Roger and my plodding walking style so these are the two teams we decide to adopt for the final push. I’m rather relieved as I really don’t think I could keep up with Matt’s pace and I would really like to be on the summit with Roger if at all possible. After a brief breakfast of hard bread and plenty of fluids we step outside into the bracing cold, strap on the crampons, helmets and head torches and start the uphill trek.
There’s not much to see in the dark of the night. Our headtorches splash pools of light fifteen feet or so around us. We seem to be the first teams on the hill as only Matt’s rope ahead can be seen by the dots of their headlights. My breath causes clouds to billow up in my face on each exhale, a misty chaos picked out by the torchlight. All I can hear is the crunching of our crampons in the snow and my own breathing. Robbie is in front and Roger behind me on our rope. There are two tracks from the previous day’s climbers up the long slope away from the Goutier hut. One goes straight up and Matt, Steve and Emanuelle appear to be going this steeper route. The other route zig zags its way uphill, longer but less intense.
The dome - it seemed unending in the dark
Placing my feet in Robbies footprints we are making steady progress uphill, no stopping, no resting and keeping just within our cardio vascular limit so it is hard work but doable. It seems to go on forever. Crunch, breath-in, crunch, breath-out, for fifty or so paces then swap hands with the ice axe and make the turn up the next zig or zag, crunch, breath-in, crunch, breath-out.
There’s now a stream of torches behind us emerging from the refuge as we trudge up the Dome Du Gouter (4,304m.) Robbies plan for an early start to avoid the human traffic jam looks to have been a good one; ahead we have the mountain to ourselves. The monotonous slope keeps the pressure on, squeaking crampons puncture the hard frosty neve and we keep ascending. My breathlessness is totally under control today, and I feel strong and re-energised. I had often visulaised this point in the trip and was enormously enjoying its challenge as I single mindedly put one foot in front of the other, carefully treading in Robbies footsteps to keep the effort to a minimum and feeling the gentle tug of the rope from Roger behind who was working just as hard to stay on the pace, actually far harder as it turned out. We eventually summitted the Dome Du Gouter and the incline gradually transformed into a short descent to the Bivouac Vallot.
The Bivouac Vallot is a small unmanned tin hut perched high on stilts to stand clear of the worst of winter snow and designed strictly for emergencies only. Even around the outside of the hut were frozen human faeces and other litter so the quality of compartment inside really didn’t bear thinking about and I’m thankfull we have good weather and all is going to plan. We are still well ahead of most of the other teams climbing this morning and Robbie and I are chatting about having a perfect summit day, totally different to last week when the previous team didn’t get very much further than this. Rather than carry our rucksacks any further, we decide to put on our full winter clothing as the wind is likely to rise when the sun comes up and the wind chill will kick in particularly along the summit ridge. Since we plan to come back the same way there seems little point in carrying the extra weight. Matt, Steve and Emmanuel had made really good time ahead of us and were now out of view, and looked to stand a good change of being the first people on the summit for the day.
The filthy Vallot hut - a lifesaver
We set off on our comfy pace again, and although a few people had now passed us we were still well ahead of most of the day's climbers. The next section up to the Bosses was steeper and getting started again after our rest felt really hard. It also felt like Roger was tugging hard on the rope behind me. I slowed down and uncoiled the rope to let Robbie go on unhindered then Roger recovered his pace and so we would then catch Robbie up. No sooner had we got back into the pace when the rope behind would go tight again and so the process would repeat. I could feel myself getting grumpy and thinking Roger was making it hard work when it really wasn’t that bad.
After a while, Roger stumbled and fell. He got to his feet again and walked a few more paces and fell again. We really were not making good progress and had only gone perhaps 200 or 300 meters from the hut. Roger and I had done enough training together to know that he was normally much better than this when the going got tough and rarely complained so this was quite out of character. I called ahead to Robbie to say Roger seemed to be struggling and needed help so we huddled together and it was clear Roger was in serious trouble. He had lost the sensation in his legs and couldn’t stand, later he admitted to difficulty with his vision and an extreme headache. His speech was slurred and he was clearly suffering from altitude sickness. Robbie quickly decided that Roger was not fit to continue upwards and instructed me to stay where I was and that he would take Roger down to the emergency hut. Although I offered help, Robbie was insistant that I did not descend and that since we could see each other he could signal in the event that I were to be needed. We unroped and Robbie assisted Roger down to the Vallot hut. At the hut, after vomiting (on Robbies gloves) and regaining his breath, Roger recovered his senses and the decision was made that he would wait at the hut for Matts team to return and descend with them. Althogh he was settled down with a blanket in the filthiest refuge on the mountain later said he was “just pleased not to be going on.”
Roger had tried his utmost, although he'd been to this altitude before and was at least as fit if not more so than me, this just wasn't going to be his day. The disappointment I felt at not being able to summit with him was nothing to what he was feeling but it spurred me on to make sure that we hadn't come this far in vain. The sun was now up and Robbie slogged up to me. We discussed the plan and Robbie was convinced Roger was safe and would be descending with Matt in about an hour or so. The sunrise had been quite something to behold but I was now very cold after standing in the rising morning breeze for about an hour and I was looking forward to moving again.
Once I did move, all I wanted to do was rest again. My muscles were tired and hurt, my lungs didn't seem to draw enough oxygen from the air and I was deeply concerned about Roger. I was being pulled in two directions: I needed to know my friend was safe and no amount of reassurance from Robbie could really satisfy that; and I needed to complete the route because Roger would never have forgiven me if I turned back against our guide’s advice.
The Bosses, crevasses nearby
Approaching halfway up the bosses we passed the others on their way back down. They had indeed been the first on the summit for the day although had had to sprint the last few meters guratanee that honour. They readily agreed to collect Roger and meet us at the Goutier hut. Matt tried to encourage me by saying it was only an hour to the top, although I think it may have been more encouraging if he’d said fifteen minutes given how I felt at the time.
That last hour seemed to last forever. Step by step, breathing heavily all the all I finally had the infamous narrow ridge to the summit of
Five months of preparation was finally over. I had achieved my dream. A self -awareness that I could now do anything that I set my mind to. It swept over and though me, my life would never be the same again. Robbie put a hand on my shoulder, I apologised, he said not to worry. On the Mer de Glace a few days ago I’d asked him why would a man do the guiding job, risking his own life, working incredibly hard over and over on ground that was so familiar. I had my answer now and I totally understood, it was to be with people as they reach their own moment of truth and achieve their goal. It is rare in any occupation to have such an opportunity to help someone achieve a dream, to change their life and create such powerful memories and emotions.
Plenty of other climbers on the summit in perfect weather
We took some photos and I shot a 360 degree video clip
Arriving back at the Goutier hut, Emmanuel was also now suffering from altitude headache and seemed annoyed that we'd left Roger. Roger had struggled to make it back to the Goutier hut and was only feeling slightly better, still wobbly with a splitting headache but speaking quite normally. After a short rest we gathered our belongings and set off on the descent to the tram station. Roger and I walked together, and in spite of descending as fast as we normally would, the others were far faster and disappeared from view. We talked and he congratulated me and I commiserated with him. It was going to be tough to come to terms with what this was going to mean for our friendship and our future in the hills together.
We caught the tram with moments to spare so avoided a very long walk home.
Although tired, I went for a celebratory summit-come-birthday drink that night in Argentiere. Roger stayed in his bunk, still very tired and the others turned in early too. Dan joined me and we later met up with a couple of the staff from the Chalet. Between us we drank enough for sore heads all round the following morning as we dashed to get the packing done for the plane home.
