Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Next morning, a bright sun warmed us. We were just below the mist and could
clearly see the final 500 feet or so of descent on what seemed a continuous broad
snow-covered ridge. Tired but relieved, we ploughed down through thicker and
heavier snow up to the knees, then to the waist, before we came to the final mind
boggling and scary obstacle: yet another overhanging ice wall splitting the ridge.
The good news was it appeared we could get onto the glacier from its base. The bad
news was that it looked further than thirty metres, more than the length of our
ropes. There was also an open crevasse at the bottom.
We first toyed with the idea of tying the two ropes together but the since the gla-
cier beyond looked like a lace doily of crevasses, we thought better of it. We would
still need our ropes. Our final stake went in perfectly, at just the right angle to take
the load with no chance of it popping. Like its siblings higher up, it was a piece of
beautifully engineered aluminium which should by rights be part of a wing flying
high in the sky over the Andes. Instead its fate was to be left to descend at glacial
rates over the coming centuries. Would we soon be joining it on its slow journey?
Alex volunteered to go first, going without his sack to give him a chance of
prusiking back up if that became necessary. We were in luck. Although the rope
didn't come close to reaching the bottom, the edge of the crevasse on its far side
was higher than it looked and the wall he was abseiling overhung just enough for
Alex to swing onto the lip and flop, with axes flailing, off the end of the ropes into
soft snow. I hauled up one end, tied on Alex's sack and lowered it but the lesser
weight meant feeding through some extra rope to reach him. Then I evened up the
rope, attached my figure of 8, checked everything three times and swung off into
the void. I landed next to Alex in a heap. We pulled the ropes through and gave
each other wry smiles.
'Nice climb, eh?'
'Could have been worse. Beer and food are calling.'
I set off down the glacier in the lead and at first my heightened senses made me
prod each step ahead. Telltale grey inundations criss-crossed confusingly in many
directions. Then tiredness overtook us as we got through the worst of the icefall. It
was no place to exhibit a lack of care and attention and disaster nearly befell us.
One minute I was on firm snow, the next I was falling thirty feet into the sudden
darkness of an enormous crevasse. I landed unhurt on a cone of snow that rose
from the impenetrable blackness beneath. Above me I could see a hole and blue
sky. I had fallen through the weakest part of the shell of ice that covered the
enormous opening. This was not a usual slot crevasse.
Then I saw what was about to happen.
