From my 2010 expedition of Mont Blanc

The adventure, part 1

                The “adventure” seems like quite an epic title to have doesn’t it? And apologies for jumping the gun a little but let me introduce myself. My name is pat. I’m currently 24 years old and working 9 to 5 retail job in a supermarket.  I specialise in pretty much nothing and spend as much of my time getting out of the home trying to bag as many miles and trips under my belt. In recent years I have been on quite a few snowboarding trips, a few trips to a place called Hel (but more on that later), travelling around the UK loads and in general just trying to see as much of the world as one can. In the past 2 years things have really kicked off. Taking on new and by far the greatest challenges I have ever faced in my life to date.  A friend of mine came up with the idea to start writing about these trips and I quote “dude you should write a book. Get it on paper n that”  to show others the experiences and knowledge I gained wile away so hopefully in god knows how many parts (see which one kills me of course) I will be able to show and entertain you all.

                2010 saw a lot of great trips out of it. In the early stages of the year I went snowboarding in Austria with my mate Peter Williams. I also paid a visit to my sis Jen in Meribel, France.  Did a spontaneous to northern Ireland where I met some new people and tackled the giants causeway (which doesn’t sound like much but when you incur some hanging over the edge of a cliff photography and have to free climb a wet cliff face to recover a camera I call that a challenge). The loss of my granddad which is always a hard thing to overcome and a road trip to the south of France just to go chill for a couple of days but then the granddaddy of them all was 2 weeks in the alps with the goal of climbing Mont Blanc. A challenge that no normal person would sit back and think “yeah I’ll have a crack at it”, the mountain itself takes many lives each year from people who joke to be the better.  so where do we begin……

                Might as well start with my most recent and completed adventure, Mont Blanc.  2 weeks of living out of a backpack and climbing a few mountains over in the Mont Blanc massif. Probably the most dangerous task I’ve ever undertaken. All started back in 2007 when a family friend completed the climb and summited Blanc and that got me wanting to do it. In early 2010, around st paddy’s day I think. I was in Winchester seeing my friend Vic, just at hers drinking away and meeting all her uni friends and got introduced to her mate Dave. A keen climber and in the previous summer had also accomplished the climb on Blanc with his dad, a friend and a tour guide. We got talking and somehow over a pint and a cup of tea, it was decided that we should go attempt it that summer. But this time it would just be us 2. No tour guides. No easy way about it, very simply it was classed as a do or die scenario. Typical thing to get yourself into when you’re drunk, ya think!?!? Well after a few months past. Was a hard year to say the least. Lost my granddad, drove my sis 20 hours to the south of France to empty her apartment only to then decide to stay there rather than the original plan of moving to London for the summer. Works just making me feel like I was in a war camp and trying to organize a group holiday to centre parks the week after the climb. So when august came around I was more than happy to throw myself into whatever the planet had to challenge me.

Day 1: After saying bye to friends and whatnot I got a lift to the airport from my pap. Somehow we ended up at the wrong airport. Bravo dad!!!! After a swift race through central London we made it to Luton, got accused of wanting to blow something up because I had a gas cylinder in my pack and eventually made it to my flight. When I got to Geneva I had to wait round about 2 hours for a bus that took me straight to Chamonix train station where Dave was waiting. Poor bugger had already been climbing in Switzerland with his dad for the past 2 weeks so he was a bit of a wreck. After getting all the formality shit out of the way, showing what I had brought for the trip (a copy of zoo and nuts….naturally) got familiarised with all the gear, stocked up on muesli and headed east. We hopped onto a train that stopped just outside a place called La Tour I think, started a long ass hike up towards the tour glacier. Cheated some by blagging onto 2 lifts, a cable car and a chair lift Then a very simple hour and then some hike up a ridge trail past the Albert Hutt and up some more to base camp. Just above the dead glacier on a rocky outcropping. There we made the great wall of Norb and pitched up our home for the next week. By the time we finished the sun was just starting to set so we caught some good photography of the sun setting over the peaks of mountains we hope to own. Day 2 was officially classed as training day. Being the fact I had never put on a set of crampons and the closest thing to glacier trailing involved a cable car up and me being a fool and hopping off piste on my board, it was a wee bit of a necessity. We spent the day trekking round the dead glacier, practicing balance, going over equipment over and over again, abseiling into crevasses and basically just larking about. We also did a bit of bouldering as well just to pass the time. As with climbing any mountain on the planet u start early. Anything after say 2am??? Basically classed as stupid. You have to remind yourself that you are in an environment that changes every second of the day and in so many ways the mountain is incredibly unpredictable. The snow, ice, rock and the fact that you have the sun beating down like a retarded scene kid. If you’re thinking of playing silly buggers with it then you shouldn’t be there. And with one thing that really threw me off, distance and time perception. For example I would up a route and be like “yeah that shit isn’t too far. 20minutes easy!!!!” man was I wrong. Things like crossing the tour glacier to get over the bottom of a lot of the routes took up to 2 hours to cross! Always so much to take in I did wonder what I had got myself into. That night we spent reading jokes from zoo and of course, the boobs. Keeps a man sane in any situation (probably get slapped by someone for that but it’s true!!!!) and cooking some of the finest shit we could muster. Pasta and cheese sauce, with chunks of random sausage thing. Mountain food for kings, or mountain kings!!!!! The night wasn’t an easy sleep eager to climb and my first test. 

Day 3: Or to put it in better context, my first ever summit day. The target was a 3500 meter peak called Aiguille de Tour, my first challenge and then some.  We woke up at 2am I think. Had our breakfast which consisted of muesli in a bag, with melted snow and milk powder, my most un-enjoyable breakfast in history! Even McDonald’s breakfast from 2 days ago seems more appealing. We set off over the rockslide field we were encamped on and trekked it down to the glacier. From there it was rope up, crampons on, gear check, roll out. The initial hike up a frozen over river and around the base of tour wasn’t too bad, despite the fact I could even tell I hadn’t done enough training, was well exhausted. After traversing up a pretty steep and snowy pass we found a refuse for break one. Hidden in a rock crack where you can go off to tour or another mountain set. Munched down on some energy bars which even today I can remember them to be bloody awful and set off round the other side of tour. While it was still dark we managed to race it across the next trail. Bail our bags and crampons. Climb our way through a rockslide and through what I will class as a mass of boulders and blind climbing we managed to be the first to summit tour that day, just as the sun was rising over a mountain called the Matterhorn in Switzerland. Was a very happy moment indeed. Just as we were coming down there was another expedition going up, about 10 of them which scared me a little bit. Personally I don’t like the idea of being roped up to loads of guys. I’ll be happy with me and my climbing partner, always. On the decent back to camp I have one memory that sticks out from that trek. That was just hiking down a snow ridge, I noticed a lady smiling at me as she was climbing up. I smiled back and in my element of trying to act cool I tripped and fell right on my face, giving me the perfect white wash look. Well done Norb. Points for retardedness!! The rest of that day was a bit of a blur, we scouted up our next route, went for a tea and restock of water at the albert Hutt. Chilled and read my copies of nuts and zoo which to this day I still vouch that bringing those 2 magazines along kept me sane, and also provided me with fresh ideas for jokes and another thing to add. Great boobs!! The night wasn’t an easy one. We had pasta again but had no cheese sauce, so we had to adapt a vegetable soup into the mix, turned out alright. Heavily compensated with Milka and some form of white chocolate. The following morning we had chosen to climb the east ice face of Tete Blanche, my thoughts of trying my first ever proper ice wall was definitely playing on my mind. Throughout the night there were plenty of rockslides and avalanches from all around the Massiv to keep you awake.

Day 4 was a 2 summit challenge day. Pete Forsch the ice wall of Tete Blanche. The climb started at the same time as the day before. Same route up to break point then instead of going left up tour we went right to the ice wall and the north face of Tete Blanche.  It was a 60m ice climb which Dave led the pitch. The brave fool decided just to go for it without setting any gear. Managed it in pretty good time however as he made it to the top some ice broke free and went straight for me. I had 2 choices. 1 was to jump out of the way of the falling ice and probably drag Dave to his death. Or option 2 which was choose an area of falling ice and take it like a man. I opted for the latter, taking a block of ice to the hand and another to my left elbow (which I later found out had broken my hand and to this day my arm has never felt the same). From there it was a left towards Pete Forsch and up some horrible steep ice face, however not steep enough to ice axe, a bitch for my ankles. After a couple of hairy moments of learning to trust my crampons and fat arse holding me down we made it to the rocky summit. There were two summits on Pete Forsch. When you are walking up the ice route it’s strange but it’s kind of like looking up a woman’s chest…… odd analogy I will admit. This time for a summit pose I was just chilling. Sat down like a lazy ol’ b. from there we saw a challenge and a half. Aiguille Chardonnay. All the time we were at camp and pretty much everywhere we were in fact, that mountain was just staring us in the face like “ha!!! Go on then, I dare ya!” from the Forsh summit we got a pretty good eye in on the route and decided the following day we would go for it. After descending from Forsch I then thought “hey we didn’t do Blanche summit” so we owned it in 10minutes. To be honest the main climb of blanch was doing the ice wall. The actual summit is a pocksy rock scramble. And when we got to the summit it did almost seem as easy as getting into bed.  From the descent we then trekked down the easy route to Forsch and Blanche to get a better view of chardonnay. We met a guide taking a group up to blanch so we asked him about it. He said it’s dangerous and the conditions weren’t perfect for a good ascent. And the descent was a bitch. When we got back to camp we agreed the following morning that we would go for it and any signs of respective death related dangers would turn us around before the worst. After spending another afternoon chilling, pissing around on rock we decided to have a little blowout treat and have a meal at the Albert Hutt. There we were treated to this badass thing………I don’t know the name of it but soup, bread and a bowl of tea. The main was outstanding. Like it had ham, chicken, tomato, cheese and more cheese. Personally I thought it was a new and improved look at lasagne. And desert was a chocolate tart, which was expensive but owned! There was also a girl who was working. Can’t remember her name for the life of me but if I’m honest I did try the charm. We got talking and when I told her what mountain we were going for the following day she told us don’t do it. Not something I’d expect to hear from her.  I did make a promise to drop by the following day to see her though do that eased the worry off a little bit. That night it was stormy and more windy than anything I’ve ever experienced. It was so windy in fact the tent was being pushed down and crushing us. Even the struts and main framework was flexing massively. I ended up going out into the wind to rebuild and strengthen the great wall of Norb and scouting the area. All that night we heard rock slides and avalanches. When it was time to gear up and go for chardonnay we saw not only a super-sized boulder had been hurled from the mountain and onto the glacier but the first part of our route had turned from a snow ascent into nothing but ice and not the nice stuff.

                Day 5 was supposed to be the summit of chardonnay but due to the horrific weather we opted on just sleeping out the storm. When day broke there was a dark cloud blanketing the entire dead glacier and a better look at the massive boulder and initial route looked more than just nasty, every climber’s nightmare in short. If we had gone for it then we probably would have destroyed our feet. Lost gear from constantly setting up pitches.  And more importantly a higher risk of falling to our deaths, so instead we decided to go down into the nearest town to stock up and indulge in French pastry!!! One the things a man would go to extreme lengths for. Like trying to convince the girl of your dreams that you were the right guy, well pain au chocolat and brioche were on par with achieving such things. After grabbing things like pasta, more pasta, chocolate, bandages, a fork (for me because I lost mine, sorry mom) and musili we then stacked up on pastries. Packing the fat in which actually a good thing, probably the only time clogging your body with shit was actually a good thing. Well that and Donald’s. I can remember that place to be pretty awesome. I also recall Dave taking an interest in the girl behind the counter and in one of those great attempts he tried to charm her in French. He failed epic style!! Coming from said experience if ever you want to chat up someone of another nationality the best technique is to stick to your own language. With a hint of flare and by initiating the oxford accent, granted they know some English it should theoretically work a charm. But anyway enough side tracking. After bailing that attempt we hit the rail again. Went back up to the great wall of Norb and set about sorting out our plans. We rang up the mountain weather report team to get our heads in on what may be possible to climb. We were toying with a massive glacier crossing over to a point where we could attempt a mountain called Aguille vert. on the call we were told not to go for it. Where the bad weather had rolled in we were informed of 2 guys that went up to attempt it and got snowed in and had to wait 2 days for a rescue in a frostbite zone. Thankfully they made it out but that definitely ruled that mountain out. So we pulled out the map. From what we were told it was bad weather all over the valley. It was a big hit for us both. It meant that the chances of summiting Blanc just went from slim to thin ice. Dave was very concerned because I had not yet climbed anything over 4000m. So I wasn’t even acclimatised for Mont Blanc which if we tried it put me at risk of everything a climber doesn’t need in their life. Altitude sickness, frostbite and the one silent killer, an edema or an air pocket in your brain that can kill you if not treated properly and fast. Not really something I wanted to hear when I was determined that Blanc was gunna be my victory shot. The do or die option was in my head. We were told a weather window was coming up soon so Dave came up with an idea to go to the other side of the valley. To lower ground just to pass time with a spot of rock climbing and bivvying near some lakes and a summit called Brevant while we wait for the weather window. That night was spent with hope and on a personal note a little bit of broken heart. Not relevant to the climb but the day after I was due back at latest I was supposed to be going on a week break to Centre parks. And my female best friend who I paid for to come had txt me just saying she couldn’t make it. Thinking back I don’t think there was any other time she could have sent that to me and make such an impact on me. Felt like someone had stolen my life-force and just made me watch it being flushed down a dirty fucking toilet. Thankfully with me I learnt a long time ago when you get knocked down, you learn how to get back up again. So I did the only thing I could at the time. Get hold of my friend Mike and explain the situation to him. See if we could fill the space. He almost seemed as pissed off as me. But as shit happens, you move on.  That night was a bit quieter compared to the others. Probably because I had ran out of jokes and just generally not feeling too good on the whole weather front.  We both could hardly sleep due to more rockslides and what seemed like explosions in not too distant mountain ranges.  It’s scary to think how much a mountain can change overnight.

Day 6 was nothing close to a fun day. Getting our home packed up and filling our packs back up to that beautiful 25-30kg weight. Trekking two hours back down the glacier and down the valley and back to civilisation. When we arrived back in Chamonix it felt like such a foreign concept. There were yanks everywhere. And tourists as far as the eye could see. We didn’t realise that it was the Ultra Trail Du Mont Blanc run. An epic marathon that puts the London marathon to shame and then some. Running round the base of Mont Blanc at altitude for hundreds of miles over stages, it’s something I don’t think I could ever do, or if I did I’d be the one at the back, passed out in a taxi or ambulance. While taking in the views and working our way through the crowd we stopped off at a shop. Got some gas and food for a couple days and trekked up to Bevant. The roads were steep and relentless. We made it up to the cable car to help us with the first stage but it was we had made it too late. They had stopped letting people go up so we had to bivvy out somewhere near. There was a walking route up to the first stage called Planpaz but it was a 3 hour trek and by then it would well be into dark. We therefore decided the best option was to find a spot on the hills somewhere, out of sight from any law or public. The place we chose I can only describe as the worst place in history. I have never slept in a worse place. The shower floor at Lorna’s was nicer! It was a steep tree lined valley. The plan for sleeping was bivvy sacks and wrap yourself round a tree. That night it rained. I was bitten by countless bugs and by morning I had woke up about 10 feet from where I started, not happy.

Day 7. The day that tested us as I remember it. After the horrible night of sleeping round a tree we trekked back down to the cable car. We were some of the first to turn up, along with the French army on a training exercise, hunting marmots or something like that. When they fired up the lift we hopped on, got up to Planpaz or stage one. The weather up there was nothing short of shit. It would appear the rain that hit us over night had stopped trying to get over the peaks to the north of us and was just having a fit. We put the tent up cos it was chucking it down and took refuge in a café. I took this opportunity to munch down a real meal and sample my first beer of the trip. I had promised myself not until the fat lady sings on Blanc but the stress and downturn of the trip I felt it was required to help me push through. The woman working at the café was really nice, she gave us vintage postcards and told us about the area and the reason Brevant was popular. We were told on a good day you could see Mont Blanc in all its beauty hence the reason loads of people go up there. The meal she cooked us was by far the best thing we had on that entire trip. Plus watching the rain power down like a relentless shower from the comfort of a building was quite good. She let us stay until the rain receded, gave us time to check the map and get our bearings. Our target for base camp was a mountain lake called lak Nior, about an hour’s trek from the café. When the rain gave us a window we packed up, got our gear and made for the lake in quick pace.  I saw my first marmot on the walk, don’t know why I turned into a child and had like as much excitement as turning up at Disney land. It was a long walk and climb in some areas up and over to the lake but we made it. We were sadly rushed to put the tent up, there was a hail storm and we had nothing to protect us with, the whole ordeal was not nice. There was nothing in our moods to indicate good vibes. Even my copy of nuts had soaked through. All my gear was soaking and that night to add to misery during the rain and hail the wind had pushed the outer layer of our tent onto the inner layer and was letting water in. I woke up in a puddle of ice cold water shivering something chronic. The only thing I could do was put my bivvy sack over my sleeping bag and hope I could recover some body heat and maybe dry off a little bit which didn’t happen, if anything it just stayed a constant. Nothing much else can be said for that night over than I may have just had a taster of what hell was like.

Day 8 we had some decisions to make. With the bad weather we were experiencing on the rock we had to make up our minds as to what the rest of our trip would consist of. We both decided we needed to get to lower ground and dry out. We packed up and made our way back to the cable car at Planpaz. Our gear was soaked through and our moral was nothing short of non-existent. We passed a couple of rock climbers doing a trad route pretty close to the cable car. We stopped to have a break and a chat with them and turned out they were English. They had camped in the café that we were at the previous day. They sympathised with us for braving the night and after sharing information about the surrounding areas we set off. We made it back to Chamonix by early afternoon and with a spot of luck we found a refuse for travellers right next to the base of the cable car. The irony of finding this now was slightly angering, to think we could have used this rather than the trees but we put that behind us and checked in. for 15 euro’s a night it was bloody cheap. This gave us exactly what we needed, with our own room to abuse the space we got right on it. Started with drying all our gear and enjoying the comforts, and having a bed!!!!! truly remarkable indeed. With the use of power got straight onto charging my phone, I hadn’t had power for 8 days and considering my phone only lasted about a day it’s been very hard to make sure it’s off at pretty much any time it’s not needed. We got straight onto the mountain weather guys again, asking for a weather window for Blanc. They told us in 3 days’ time there would be a good window. So we had to keep ourselves occupied for that amount of time. We trekked into town to go splendour in the world of Chamonix. We found an epic patisserie, complete with beautiful women and enough pain au chocolat to keep us going for months! And we found a book shop worthy of honour. Just opposite a bank in a square there is this book shop. Inside we found books, lots of books. One that caught my eye with fascination was the bro code by Barney Stinson. A book full of rules that bro’s abide by. Basically it was the booked that boosted my moral back to the standard it should always had been. I also picked up a book called into the wild. The story may be somewhat depressing with a tragic end however it is inspirational and an amazing story and probably one of the best books I’ve ever read. We retired back to the hostel and watched the clouds consume Mont Blanc in the hope that we could get a glimpse of hope. During the afternoon we met a Frenchman who was drained beyond reckoning. He didn’t speak English but we did find out he had just solo climbed a route called the walker spur on the Grand Jorasses (probably the inspiration for 2011 climb but more on that in another tale). Our night was quite entertaining; we met a load of awesome people in the communal kitchen. There was a guy from Zimbabwe who was just making his way in life with his girlfriend, a couple from New Zealand who were out looking for winter jobs and a Swedish hiker and climber using the hostel as a base from his trips, we all had a pretty good laugh. Apart from me and Dave making our meal of pasta and cheese the couple from Zimbabwe had been out picking wild mushrooms all day and had made a massive feast. Naturally I accepted the offer to join in with the meal but Dave was a bit more conservative. On the upside the mushroom weren’t dangerous and I didn’t wake up with the shits. That night was comfortable. We had a good amount of laughter which if I’m honest was needed and now just settling into a relaxing night.

Day 9 was a lazy as hell day. With not much to do apart from read books and stare out of our window it did seem like a big waste of time. On the upside we did see the clouds starting to clear and got our first look at the summit which did seem to be another world away, like looking at the stars. When it seemed so far away and I was only hopefully two days away from attempting it, it was the target and therefore my mind was set on it. That day we set the record straight with consumption of pain au chocolat way into the double figures. We spent most of the day at a bouldering room the sports centre, climbing in mountain boots that may not had been the best option and buying more books like Eiger Dreams and Touching the Void. We also caught loads of the first athletes to complete the Mont Blanc run to return to Chamonix which was quite cool. That night a load of the athletes actually crashed at our hostel so again we got to meet some pretty awesome people. One of which was a Dutchman who was crashing in our room, such a nice dude. He told us he was hiking from Switzerland, round Mont Blanc and back. No idea why but hey, he wasn’t questioning our resolve for wanting Blanc so we equally respected him. He shared fruit, stories and jokes with us, joking about how there’s 2 Holland’s and how fucked up Amsterdam is. Thinking back it still makes me laugh. We also opted to go into Chamonix itself for one night to wind down before taking on Blanc the following day. We found a bar with a pool table and Takeshi’s castle on the television so we thought to hell with finding somewhere else. We had a good night of beers and lemonade (Dave doesn’t drink, probably a good thing really) and pool which by luck I won 2 wins to 1. We didn’t stay out too late and headed back. Chilled out with our roommate and crashed out.

Day 10 was something else; we did our usual round with the patisserie and mass of pastry then geared up. Bid farewell to our host and set off for the Aiguille Du Midi cable car. This would save us a 2 day hike up to the first stage of the route, which I refused to do at the time (probably a wise move). The lift is used loads by tourists because it takes u into the mountain Aiguille Du Midi itself. At 3800m it does test the body for altitude; people who go up there without any acclimatisation training suffer very quickly with sickness and dizziness, almost like being drunk. When we made it up the 2 cable cars which was quite fun itself (the cable car rocks violently on the way up, makes people scream and stuff, very entertaining) we wasted no time in finding our exit onto the ice world. There is a guarded rail that has a sign saying you can only enter this domain with crampons and suitable ice equipment…….ok. We hopped the fence and in this ice cave we geared and roped up. The route from the cave is a knife edge down onto the glacier and it does take a lot of confidents and a second thought to do it. We had to pass 2 groups due to clients (probably) getting too scared and their guides of course trying to talk them into doing it. My experience was not fun. The walk down is steep in some areas and so thin in some places there is only space for 1 foot. Plus with the wind howling for anybody who lost their nerve it probably was a terrifying experience.  Once we got off the ridge it was a doddle, we had planned to stay a night in the Cozmique Hutt. We made it there in easy time and again very happy to have a bed for the night. The idea to use a Hutt had been a second thought the entire trip because they are very expensive to stay in but to help in every way possible we had organized a night in this one. We arrived and one thing I loved about Hutt’s is they have a rule. You are not allowed to wear your boots inside, so instead you get given crocs which although to my knowledge are the worst thing in fashion to happen I can tell you now is the best thing your feet can feel in that hospitable an environment. The check-in was easy and we got told where to go for our bunks. Our bunks were rooms of about 20 people and I and Dave were separated, Dave being on a top row bunk on the other side of the room and me on a bottom double with some German woman, not awkward at all…..yeah right! I didn’t meet her until it was lights out but more on that later. We had a few hours to pass while waiting for dinner so we chilled on the balcony staring up at Blanc and looking at the groups of people coming over to the Hutt and playing card games and one to remember for future trips, we drank about 3 litres of water to help with the acclimatisation process. Because I had only made it to 3700m I was in danger of altitude sickness so anything to help my body cope was good, even if it meant going for a wee every 10 minutes. We also met a British kid, probably around Dave’s age who had just packed a bag, flown to Cham and gone straight up the Midi. He seemed like a good kid. Heart in the right place but maybe left his head at home. He asked us about what we were up to and wanted in on our expedition of Blanc. It was odd because for Dave it put another body under his responsibility and after a wile of discussion we agreed he could follow our trail but no rope until the ice climb. Throughout the rest of the day we got talking about what he had done, his gear and his experience, all of the answers we got made us more and more cautious. When we eventually found out he didn’t even have a helmet it was clear this kid hadn’t really thought it through so we told him to seriously reconsider what he was attempting and we left him to have a think. Dinner was called up around 7pm and myself and Dave were put on a table with an Italian expedition and none of them spoke a word of English, again awkward. We got joking with food jesters and me attempting Italian. Saying the food was “bravisimo” and apparently I was doing well. Got taught a few words that related to the meal, we had chicken casserole with rice, bread, soup, and water and tarte au chocolat for desert. We made pretty good friends with our table and we ended up in toasting for tomorrows climbs with our glasses of water, cool camaraderie I think with these guys and just goes to show how friendly the world can be. After dinner we found our kid bear grilles in the corner with a beer. He had chosen to bail out of the climb and go back down to rethink it through and to be honest we probably saved his life. I’m just glad he chose to be wiser, to think where we were, that mountain range would eat him alive. For the rest of the night we retired to the room for the night and I met my bunk buddy for the night, a German lady who was also going for Blanc. Everyone got their packs ready for a wakeup and roll out and after putting my phone on charge again we turned off the lights and went for some shut-eye. That night I didn’t sleep 5 minutes, it was weird enough sharing a bed with a complete stranger but we were at 3600m and the highest I had been used to sleeping was 2300m. And to add to it all we had a snorer!!!! We tried everything to shut that fat bastard up, shining torches at him, nudging him; I had resulted in throwing my books at him but nothing!! Fatty fucking snorlax kept on going all night and everyone in the room suffered. And when we had a 12.15 wakeup call coming up it was not a well worth wile experience.

Day 11 and the day of reckoning was upon us. 12.15am was the wakeup call which nobody liked and after the pathetic excuse of a night’s sleep. We hooked up our bags and went down for breakfast which to be honest was well stacked in, I had got used to shit cereal by then and just kept telling myself that it was good for my body. We set out with the first group of about 100 at around 2am and made our way to mountain 1, Mont Blanc Du Tacle. It was a long steep ice walk and side step with some areas where ice axes had to be used for stability. It hurt my ankles like hell and the whole way was watch your feet, all up the mountain there were teams that set out earlier and the ice that was breaking off from them was just falling onto us. I was grateful having a helmet and very relieved the kid hadn’t joined us, he most certainly would have been fucked. After spending an hour or so getting to the top of Tacle we traversed over the other side dropping down to the base of mountain 2, Mont Maudit. This bitch had my name on a hit list with no shadow of a doubt. On the way over Dave had a moment where he wasn’t sure about himself. Altitude sickness was starting to show signs on him as well. And with my levels of suffering as well we almost turned back then but after a spot of manning up we continued. Shortly after this my pack had undone and I lost my water supply to the mountain but we powered on. Mont Maudit had an ice wall blocking the route and our original plan was to hook up to one of the fixed ropes but with a cue and loads (and I do mean loads) of people trying it we just got showered with ice breakage and again thankful for helmet. Some of the stuff hitting us was big and most certainly skull splitting material.  We got impatient and to our better judgement we gave ourselves about 5m of slack in our rope and made our own route up the wall. Using no gear and just a pair of tactical ice axes we powered up it, calling to each other when we needed to stop to catch our breaths. We did the wall with 2 breathers, literally by leaning into the wall and hoping our crampons held us into the wall. We had to traverse over and back onto the roped area to get up and over the top but that wasn’t a problem. All the party’s on the wall were only using 1 alpine axe and a hand, so really slow. Once at the top of Maudit we got our first proper sight in on Mont Blanc. To see the mountain from a relative base to summit was something. As day broke we were just in the middle point between Maudit and Blanc, we opted to food and drink up (well Dave to drink up, me to suffer). Also gave us an opportunity to have a wee which at that altitude is good times! It also seemed to be fate but the Italian group that we had dinner with the night before had caught up with us. It was good to see in an odd sense, a familiar face. We then geared up to deal with the cold, Dave was suffering from freezing hands and my hoodie wasn’t quite doing a good enough job at minus 25.  We thought it’d be best to break out the jackets and mittens. Dave had done things properly with a lightweight downs jacket whereas I had chosen to save some money and take my heavy snowboard jacket, bad mistake that I will not be doing again. The trudge as I remember was long and relentless. What looked like an hour tops took us 2 and a half hours. Nothing but relentless steps, I can remember the whole way up that I had John Mayer’s song gravity stuck in my head. It was a constant session of reminding myself left foot, then right foot, then left again otherwise I probably would have hit the powder. From what seemed like forever the rope slacked so I started reeling it in, caught up to Dave and asked him what’s up? He just pointed and said we’d made it. I looked up and saw the summit. Nothing could describe the feeling of victory other than going out and experience it yourself. We walked up side by side and claimed Mont Blanc ours, I screamed a mighty hell yeah and we did a bro hug. We got some photos taken of us by each other and a Frenchman who got an awesome shot of the 2 of us. After photo were done I called my mum cos for some reason my phone worked and to help resolve an argument that’s been going on for centuries my phone was running on orange Italia so to settle dispute, the summit belongs to the Italians (in your face frenchies!). It was an amazing call, despite me kinda watering the call with blunt humour it was something I doubt me or mum will never forget.  We then decided to take refuge from the minus 30 degree wind and have a victory chocolate bar with the Italian team. Soon after 10am we decided to set off back towards the Hutt. Unfortunately climbing up is only half the battle, and with a summer sun against us we opted not to hang about. We hauled arse off Blanc and made for Maudit. With quick pacing and no breaks we got back to the ice wall. Now as I said earlier about this wall having me on its hitlist, somehow it knew it was going to have me then. Dave said we were going to use the set rope and walk down it…………..ok. To save time and not lose any gear it was going to be the quickest way down. At this stage I was suffering with a serious case of altitude sickness, I felt drunk and had a massive headache. I was told to put my axes back in my bag but I didn’t listen. As I walked it I got to a point where I had to disconnect from the set rope to connect to another at that point shit hit the fan. I lost my footing, tangled the rope that connected me and dave and fell a good 30feet (or 10m, whichever you prefer). I stopped myself by stabbing my axes in and holding for dear life. At this point I was freaking out, I had Dave shouting at me and we had people waiting for us so worst case scenario. Dave climbed down to me, got me untangled and I down climbed the rest of the wall using toe point. It took me time to regain my composure and in the safety of my snow goggles I had a little cry. When Dave got over to me it was simple, man up and move on, so I did. We powered Tacle and reached the summit in no time at all. Weird thing I remember about the return to Tacle was there was a group of about 20, all just sat there and it’s just odd because they were there when we first climbed up that mountain, a possible failed expedition maybe. There were also countless helicopters doing fly-by’s picking up stragglers. A reminder of what we were actually doing. After crossing the summit of Tacle we raced it down the ice trail and made it to the safety of the base, had to jump one hell of a crevasse but that was easy. On the flats we bumped into the German girl I had crashed with. She congratulated us on our achievement and we parted ways. We had to go back to the Hutt to go collect our tent and excess gear. We had 2 choices to climb up to the Hutt. We could take the slightly longer and less steeper route or go at it direct, direct was a bad choice. We made it but needed a rest so we got lunch in the Hutt and kicked it some. We overstayed and left it tight to get back to the cable car (I was due to catch a bus back to Geneva that night for the flight the following morning). The last cable car was in 45minutes time and we had to make it or face sleeping rough in a blizzard and missing my flight home. Missing it was not an option so we ran across the glacier to the knife ridge and trudged like nothing seen before. At the ridge I was so exhausted I was struggling to even take in a breathe, I was crawling on my hands and knees and having Dave shouting down the line trying to get me up. It took every ounce of strength, mentally and physically to get up it but we made it. Ran to the cave, got our crampons off and just ran through the mountain to the cable car. We had made it with 3 minutes to spare and very thankful for it. In the cue we took off the rope and started taking off the gear. I accidentally stabbed a Frenchman with an axe and the cable car wasn’t so great. More like a slave transport we were crammed into the cab. I’m pretty sure the tourists didn’t enjoy our presence but we had made it so if anybody didn’t like it, they can have the v’s! Once back in the real world I had to rush to my bus. After bidding Dave a farewell and good luck on his final challenge (he wanted to solo Aiguille Verte) I ran from one side of Chamonix to the train station on the other. The bus was there and eager to get going so in an exhausted state, with my harness still attached I got on and bailed my bag. The driver was quite friendly and so were the other people on the bus. When I told them I had just raced it back from the summit of Mont Blanc they were a little taken back. The bus driver gave me time to get my harness off and even handed me a bottle of water which was swiftly emptied. We then set off and hit the road. For a point I could see the summit, to myself I was like I just owned you!! And very proud of such things, from that point it was a farewell and to the road to Switzerland. I woke up at the border and from that point it was passing out and waking up and random points. When we made it to Geneva airport it was just a case of ringing a couple of people and finding out what flight my sister had booked me, whether my friend beef was coming to get me and a txt from Bob Marchbank, the main inspiration for climbing Blanc in the first place. It said what a great achievement I had made and that my family were proud of me. Now to see the words parents and proud of me in any context whatsoever was a first for me. The memory that springs to mind was shocking and somewhat overwhelming. Took me back a lot! The rest of the night I bummed around the airport, made friends with the bar man who hooked me up with a free beer and burger king. He also hooked me up with a cigarette which was awesome. And after closing down the bar he pointed me to the best spot to crash for the night. After dinner and a beer I rested up on some chairs, got stopped by security once to ask for my passport (this time no gun) and rested up for the night.

Day 12 was fun. I had to get through security. Get breakfast in departure lounge and call up the father who was quite happy to hear from me. Then during breakfast I had a call from my friend Christine in Ireland which was nice then onto the flight. It was a quiet flight so I had a whole row to myself so at least nobody had to suffer my smell (which was bad). When I arrived in Gatwick I was expecting to be attacked by beef but he was nowhere to be seen. Got my phone hooked up to the mains and found out he was running late. I then decided pitch up, get a costa in continue with my book, Into the Wild. About 2 hours later beef and mike showed up and in my opinion they were a little taken back. Seeing I had just spent 2 weeks living on glaciers and rock with hardly any luxuries I thought I was doing ok for myself, sure I hadn’t changed my underwear in 5 days and my face was somewhat reaching puberty with hair and everything but I still thought I could pass off as a human. The car ride back was torture for all of us. Mike and Stu would not let me sleep and I stank beyond reckoning it was no wonder we got home pretty quick. My old man greeted us with a beer and a congrats and I made a b-line for my bed and the shower. At that point I had not seen my feet in 4 days purely because they had blistered and had been bandaged up with tissue and medical tape because it was all we had. I was dreading looking at them. Taking my boots off was one thing. Taking the socks off was something else. The smell was something awful, like rotting meat and once I had got the bandages off you could see the damage. I showered in a lot of pain but it was worth it to feel clean again.

From there I guess the story goes back to normal life. I saw friends and settled back into the rat race. Another end to a chapter of my life as the old ones say. I did learn a lot from this trip though. Survival and finding a calm in the worst of situations. i also learnt the key rule of being able to say screw it and do something I would rather in the past not do and later regret. And key memories that will stick with me forever, like the girl I tripped in front of, or the “fucking” burger in Chamonix, or the rough night on Planpaz, or the leg bleed on tour. So many memories that I haven’t written down either but will always be remembered just because they are special to me.  Knowing my luck and the way I am I expect there will be many adventures yet to come. I look forward to writing about them as well as doing them. Until then, taters and thank you for reading.