Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
from our sacks. My last three leads of the day end halfway up the wall. Voytek
turns the overhanging lip magnificently on the right. In the evening glow, we reach
the sixty-five degree summit ice and hack out a ledge big enough for the three of us
to make a sitting belay. The ritual begins as we pass the pot of food back and forth
between us, each taking two spoonfulls of instant potatoes and cheese before
passing it on, content and amazed by our bench in the sky at 21,500 feet. Then
Voytek has to spoil it.
'You see there the Pamirs? That one big peak on the far left? Last year two Russi-
ans climbed a big face for three days and couldn't get through the cornices at the
top, so they had to go back down.'
'Well that's great, Voytek, we've already established we can't get back down from
here.'
Day six: Dawn breaks slowly behind the great peaks to the east, gently gathering
pace and strength as it scrolls through a spectrum of pastels. By the time the sun
splits open the horizon, we have nearly finished our porridge.
The summit ice field is like
The Shroud
on the Grandes Jorasses, steep but
straightforward, except for one rock step, which I tickle over on front points. The
overhanging 'frog's eyes' seem to stay motionless at first, but after eight pitches we
are passing up the bridge of the nose between them. There is one final, unwanted
surprise. From base camp, we thought the frog's eyes were the summit cornice. In
fact, they hide from view a final cornice now hanging over our heads. I remember
Voytek's words from the evening before but none of us says a word.
The ice has now hardened into the familiar black steel of a winter alpine face and
has steepened. Voytek and I are debating the options when Alex arrives at the
stance. Voytek thinks it might be possible to go left, I wonder what happens out
right. Alex clips onto the ice screws, smiles and looking up says: 'My turn guys.'
Alex has woken up. We are now in his domain.
'You are like the fabled monkey,' Voytek says, 'or maybe just joker in the pack.'
Alex takes the ice screws, organises them carefully on two karabiners on either
side of his harness. He takes four deep breaths, exhaling like a locomotive gather-
ing steam, then makes a perfect placement with his axe in the ice above. He leads
nearly a full rope length with one screw for protection before he cuts a narrow
stance in the hard ice and brings us up in tandem.
We are now only twenty feet below the bottom of the cornice. It looks impenet-
rable. Alex takes the recovered ice screw and sets off again. With a grin I agree he
is a bit like a monkey. His front points barely scratch the surface as he tiptoes up
