Climbing Mont Blanc: Ascent Day 2 - Up

• Introduction
  
• Preparation - Booking
  
• Preparation - Fitness
  
• Preparation - Gear
  
• Training Days
  
• Restday
  
• Ascent Day 1
  
• Ascent Day 2 - Up
  
• Ascent Day 2 - Down
  
• Epilogue
  

Twenty past one my alarm goes off. Bolt upright in bed. There is a tremendous rustling as people jump out of bed, root about in their packs and pull on clothes furiously. There is not much talking. I chat briefly to one of my friends he says he didn’t sleep one wink, his breathing felt funny and he had mild headaches. Out from the sleeping annex into the howling wind and into the main eating hall of the Goûter for breakfast of the damned. Confusion. Guide berates me for taking someone else’s tea. I can’t understand what he’s saying. Refuge staff have filled my thermos with litre of sweet tea. Leave our helmets and camelbacks in the Goûter but put headlamps on. I have my overtrousers on for the first time. Also my outer-shell jacket. Guide says just inner gloves for now. Big mistake.
[caption id="attachment_140" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="looking at feet for two hours - hypnotic nighttime walking"][/caption]
We crampon up, me roped behind the guide and my friend behind me. Off we set at a fair old clip up the snow. I don’t bother putting on ski goggles yet as its very dark, much blacker than our night ascent of the Bérangère which was bathed in a big moon and stars. Way ahead of us I can see small groups of roped climbers, beads of light moving like beetles up the Mont Blanc. Soon we will be overtaking some of them as our guide pushes us mercilessly up. I really enjoy this part, hiking fast in silence through the snow together. For two hours just crunch, crunch, crunch and deep breathing.

Mac breaks a pole. The guide sticks it in the snow. We come back he says and off we fly again. Now the going gets steeper. I keep putting one foot in front of the next. I start to feel my hands get cold. Soon they are really cold and sore. I really want to stop and get out the outer gloves on but there is no stopping. I can really feel the ascent now and I am taking big gasps of the thin air all the time. I try making my foot movements as efficient as possible so as not to waste energy.

Eventually we arrive at the Vallot. I can’t call this a hut. It’s just a metal box in the snow. If Goûter was purgatory Vallot is definitely a piece of hell. Inches of rubbish are compacted into the floor of this metal container. It feels and smells like the bowels of a land fill. Vallot is not for sleeping, only for emergency stops. People are sleeping though. On top of the stinking rubbish they curl in sleeping bags like larvae. Our guide orders us to have some tea and something to eat. I ripp off my pack and get my outer gloves out. My hands feel like they are burning with the cold. I swing my arms from the shoulder socket and pump warm blood into them. My hands pulse for a minute or two after this but quickly warm. I feel a burst of elation. Warm sugary tea is a divine elixir and I scoff two cereal bars. I’m standing on a white own-brand Tesco chocolate wrapper with polish writing. Our guide chats away to some people he recognises. Now its sans batons and out with piolet. We sling packs back on and leave the Vallot gripping our ice-axes.

I am so glad to have my outer gloves on that I feel great for a while. But the ascent quickly becomes steep and very tough going. Our guide doesn’t slacken the pace or allow a stop. But I am also eager to get up and down as fast as possible. I don’t fancy waiting for storms to come in.
[caption id="attachment_143" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="german climbers on summit morning"][/caption]

We continue for a long time. We meet a group on the way down. I wonder could they possibly have reached the top already or are they retreating from sickness or injury? We overtake several groups going up. I begin to think the guide is a maniac. Whenever the pace slackens slightly I know that our guide has caught up to a group ahead of us. This gives a short respite as he stays behind the group for a minute picking his moment to pass. Then he steps up, out of the furrowed track, and we kick. I call my friend behind to let him know we are overtaking. I am dimly aware the he must be looking at me anyway and this is unnecessary and possibly annoying but it quickly becomes a habit for me. Maybe it is to tell myself that we are upping the pace and to ready my legs for more punishment. I decide that guide is not a maniac after all when he steps out of the path but judges an overtake too risky because we are on a narrow ridge. Not a total maniac anyway. Everything is relative now. Sanity could be a liability.

[caption id="attachment_157" align="alignnone" width="384" caption="Mac gets something from his pack"][/caption]

Now I am starting to wish for the top. I’m not enjoying it. I’m at the limit of my fitness and I can’t see the top. Twenty minutes says the guide. That makes my heart sink. It should be ten or five. A steep climb. I am going more slowly now my hands pressing down on my knees to pull me up. Ski goggles on my face. Biting wind and gusts of snow buffet us as we near the peak with nowhere left to hide. I feel a dull pain in my lower back that won’t go away. Probably because I am hunched over. I weigh 67kgs. I estimate my bag at 11kg for this day. Boots and harness several kg more. I didn’t train for this.


All of sudden we are on the summit. High five from the guide! Its 6:00 a.m. Still dark. Grey clouds gather ominously around the peak. Several hundred metres below I can see a cloud swirling angrily threatening to become something worse. I can see inky black and white dalmatian slopes of the Alps of the Italian, French and Swiss Massif all around me. Two Germans are already here, fumbling in their packs for flasks and cameras. They take our photo. I struggle to operate my camera. I’m more worried about getting my hands cold again than my facebook pictures right at this moment. Elation. More sweet tea. Tea getting colder by now but still warm. Cereal bar, chocolate and nut/seed mix. I notice that my bag and my hat are encrusted in ice and snow.

[caption id="attachment_153" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="at summit of mont blanc: me, mac and guide 6am, Aug 22, 2008 (Mac's photo - taken by the Germans)"][/caption]

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