Learning how to learn |
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Face Nord de la Tour Rounde
Despite my friends counsel I had no choice but to look for a climbing partner on the Internet. The chat forum of ukclimbing seemed to be the most appropriate site to do so. Long before I left for Grenoble I managed to find Chris, a 22-year old Yorkshire man who like me wanted to stay in the French Alps for our first full blow alpine season. A month later at the beginning of April we met in Chamonix and soon found a place to live together. A small hut in a forest of Argentiere, a commune called "The Shack". Here, waiting for good weather we exchange our knowledge and experience. Excluding a week of snow plodding, a five day winter course in the Tatras and a handful of easy ice falls this is going to be my first winter climbing. Chris has more impressive resume, but most of his achievements though were gained on climbing courses under guides' wings. ![]() Walking down the valley we pass la Tour Rounde, we are heading for the Fourche bivouac hut. Before long we find out the hut is too far from our target and somewhat unhappily we decide to spend a night in an open air bivvy. It is the end of April and at dusk we finish digging a 4 foot deep grave on Glacier du Geant, 200 yards from the face of the mountain. My suggestion of digging a cave on the slopes instead, echoes with Chris's ignorance. Thanks to Mark Twight and his "Extreme Alpinism" book we learnt about the rules of alpine style climbing. As complying with them promises access to many routes on our target lists for this season, we are desperate to adopt and implement them. This is going to be our first experience of Mark's lessons. I am concerned about Chris and his literate interpretation of super lightweight idea. Even if it is going to be very cold, equipped with 2 seasons sleeping bag I only face uncomfortable sleepless night. Chris however has got neither bivvy gear nor down cloths. We brew tea, eat sandwiches and go to "bed". I sleep on the rope dressed in two fleeces and the sleeping bag. Chris is lying on his rucksack dressed just in two fleeces and a windproof outer shell. Curled up close one to another we observe the beauty of the sky and the surrounding peaks. ![]() It is obvious that Chris is unable to lead and I happily take that honour. One pitch* before the summit I ask him to take over a sharp end of the rope. He refuses but I insist. "It is your route Chris, you wanted to do it so much, please do it, you will like it, you can do it," I persuade. By that time he seems to be fully recovered and capable of doing so, and so he does. That makes him completely sober and with him guiding we descend to our bivvy, and from there down the Mer de Glace. All way down over 20 miles on our feet it takes us until midnight to arrive at the warm hut in Argentiere. It's been a long day, we drink endless cups of tea, share a short version of our story with shack mates and make for real beds. Summary:
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