‘Are we there yet?’
Our guide Jon looked at me incredulously. ‘There!? We’re not even half way! We still have at least two more hours!’
Not the response I’d been hoping for.
It was nearing 4pm and dusk had started to cast its shadow on the mountain panorama sprawled out below. We were ‘not even half way’ through a very wintery climb of L’Arete a Marion in the Aravis. During the summer the route is a straight forward, ridge walk… during the winter, a corniced hell of seracs, avalanche prone slopes and icy-cold wind whipping up from the valley. It was ‘an adventure’ to say the least… much more of an adventure my climbing partner Nick and I had anticipated. And it didn’t sound like it was going to end any time soon.
I took a deep breath, dug in my heels and held the rope tight as Nick fell through yet another cornice, arms flailing for the stability of the rock.
‘Whoops. There’s some deep snow there’ he called out. I followed closely behind him, looking down into the ‘snow hole’, saw the blue sky through the other side.
Less than 10 hours later Jon was skilfully and steadily breaking trail over the corniced, snowy ridge, brushing away the snow from the ridge to dig out the bolts. A precarious conga line with consequences. We’d already found ourselves 'au cheval' in uncompromising positions straddling the icy ridge as if we were riding a horse and trying to pull our bodies along while the wind whipped at our cramponed heels.
And we weren’t even half way there yet.
Jon had disappeared from view and the rope lay limp over the snow indicating that he was working his way through what appeared to be a technical section beyond our view. I wondered aloud the option of rappelling down a steep section to the right might be possible given that it was getting dark. Before we even had time to reflect on what that decision might have been, the rope went tight and we heard John shout over the wind.
It was go-time.
Nick rounded the corner before I did. His running commentary provided a hint of what lay in store. ‘I don't have a good feeling about this’ he muttered balancing the front-points of his crampons in a tiny seam in rock-face with a 300 foot drop behind his heels. Reaching up, I followed, planting the tip of my axe in an iced seam in the rock. The 20 degree angle of the face made it incredibly hard to climb as you literally had to pull your body over the almost flat icy smooth surface. From there I inched my way upward along the ice, praying that the axe tip was ‘bomber’ and would stay firmly lodged in the seam. The front points of my crampons scraped against the rock as I tried to get enough purchase for the next move. And so we slowly and methodologically inched our way up the face.
I love the sense of relief after passing through the crux of a climb and when you are again fixed solidly to an anchor with precious moments to recompose and refocus. We arrived at the anchor gasping, eyes wide but laughing… experiencing a rush of endorphins with the crux now behind us. The summit of L’Arete a Marion was now within reach. We navigated the final section and popped out onto the summit just as the sun disappeared over the horizon.
A congratulatory handshake summit and then we quickly prepared ourselves for a rapid descent to make the most of the final rays of light before darkness fell.
“It is what it is” was Jon’s response when I questioned the descent conditions as I tried to mentally prepare myself.
Exhausted but buzzing we arrived at the car for 8pm. The last hour had actually had me thinking that snow-swimming should be made an olympic sport, so much agility and flexibility was required when moving through waist-deep snow. It had been an absolutely BRILLIANT day.
Massive thanks to Jon Bracey for organising such a fab day out, guiding us, and for doing the hard work..!
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| Benighted - 8pm at the carpark |
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