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Tagne 2001 |
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Dan's DiaryDay 34 - Tuesday 31st July 2001
Our alarms went off at 3am. I switched mine off and lay still. I wanted to hear snow falling so that we would have a good excuse to go straight back to ABC, but there was nothing. I tried to think up other excuses but none came. Jon rolled over and said, "Do you want to do it?" I grunted a purposely-vague answer as I was hoping he would answer this. Five minutes later I unzipped the tent to find a clear star lit sky with not a cloud in sight. "Come on. Let's give it a go," I said to Jon. I went into automatic mode at that point because I knew I wouldn't be able to think straight that early in the morning. I moved out of my down sleeping bag straight into my down jacket. I put my Ronhills and salopettes on top of my thermals and then forced down a few biscuits and 700ml of what ever liquid my flask contained - icy water with a hint of minty chocolate and chicken, vegetable and tomato soup - revolting enough to wake anyone up. My inner boots were put on and the outers followed, with the numerous straps, buckles, laces and bits of velcro being done up on the way. After fastening my gaiters I unzipped the tent and the cold air rushed in once more. There was ice on the inside of the tent and so care was needed when moving around to ensure the tent material wasn't knocked which would have sent thousands of tiny ice crystals raining down on us. After finding and using a suitable toilet rock, I threw everything into my rucksack that I thought I'd need and then checked the tent for anything I might have forgotten. I fiddled about with my harness and finally got it on.
We headed up into the dark abyss at 4:10am guided by our head torches. The light only illuminated a small patch of the slope in front of us but it was all the same, snow covered scree. We ascended the lower scree slope before traversing across and down a steeper scree slope to the lower stretch of the glacier that flowed down from the cwm carved into the side of Tagne. The descent was treacherous. The scree was steep and loose, taking you down with it and was covered with snow that hid the shape of the rocks underneath. There was no telling whether each step you took would land on stable ground or would slide away, burying you in a pile of rubble at the foot of the slope, somewhere in the darkness below. I was glad to reach the glacier, still on my feet. We decided to rope up as the recent snow had done a good job of hiding the crevasses. After many minutes of tying on, checking the harness was done up correctly, taking coils and attaching a prussik loop we continued. Jon led the way, slowly across the ice, prodding with his Leki pole in front of him. It was too slow for me and I wanted to urge Jon to go faster, but refrained as rushing him might only heave delayed us further. Before long there was enough daylight for us to switch our head torches off. After jumping across numerous small crevasses, we reached the far side of the glacier. Staying roped up, we ascended a mixture of scree, snow and ice. Soon I discovered there was only one thing worse than scree and that was scree covered with snow. The larger boulders that protruded through the blanket of snow had invisible ice covering them, lethal to any foot that trod on them. Our pace was slow. The terrain was a nightmare, we were not exactly sure where to go, and the high altitude caused us to get out of breath after only a couple of steps. I seemed to suffer from this breathlessness more than Jon and would quite often have to stop just to regain my breath. I didn't like holding Jon up but I guessed he too was grateful of the rests. The dry air was causing me to cough frequently and the cold made my nose drip like a tap. Every so often I would cough up phlegm, stained with blood.
It didn't seem long before the rocky buttresses midway up the slope, were towering over us. We then had the choice of trying to climb one of the many rock chimneys to reach easier ground above the buttresses or to contour around the bottom of them, hoping we could get onto the glacier from there. The imposing presence of the buttresses made us instinctively try and go around the bottom of them. The scree was extremely loose and the slope steeper than we had thought. Jon added some slings along the way and clipped the rope into them to protect us. Now we would only fall thirty feet as opposed to a thousand feet. We scrambled up the rocky ledges to the left of the main buttress. The handholds came away in our hands and the snow made it impossible to determine how safe the rock was underneath. My hands soon started to get cold as my gloves got wet from being in the snow. Eager to get off the insecure rocky slope, we traversed diagonally upwards and joined the back wall of the glacier above the main bergschrund. We sat on the last of the rocks and I ate a peanut bar. Our crampons were fastened to our feet and walking poles exchanged for ice axes. Jon lead the way out onto the 40 degree ice just above the bergschrund. Three to four inches of soft sugary snow lay on top of a layer of crunchy ice. We had barely been going for more than a few minutes when the ice cracked violently below my feet. Jon turned around to see what the noise was. I looked at him and said "Did you hear that?" knowing full well that he had. "Yer, what do you want to do?" Came the reply. I instinctively wanted to turn around but then my thoughts got the better of me. We had only just started on the ice, we had come all this way and now I wanted to get to the top. I thought hard and said to Jon in a nervous voice "Lets keep going. But quickly." There was no debate and we started moving again immediately. We didn't stop until we'd reached the relative safety of a rocky patch in the centre of the cwm. The ice groaned and creaked at least another half a dozen times, but we had made our decision and were not going to waste time questioning it. Any reservations that we had, we kept to ourselves as we walked along in a deathly silence.
We arrived at the rocks in the centre of the cwm, breathless and tired, but relieved that we would be able to sit and have a rest. I took the opportunity to put on some suntan cream and my glacier goggles as the sun was rising high behind Tagne and already shone on the col we were heading for. Not long after sitting down, a chilling breeze could be felt. We were soon forced to continue in order to keep warm. My feet and hands had both regained consciousness for the earlier cold scramble up over the scree. We slowly trudged across the snow and ice to the far side of the cwm, ascending all the time, Jon leading and me following a rope's length behind. We reached the snow-covered rock on the far side of the cwm and ascended up the side of it. Going straight up the slope was a lot steeper, which caused us to take frequent breathers after every dozen steps or so. I was glad to reach the col. We were nearly there; all we had to do was walk along the ridge. Also we were off the ice slope that made creaking noises and so I could begin to relax a little. We sat on the col to regain our composure, get our breathing back to normal and our pulse to below a hundred beets per minute. I ate a Kendal mint cake and a frusli bar. I looked at my watch. It read 9:45am. Where had the past few hours gone? Andy and Narinder had reached the summit at 10am. I said to Jon we should turn around at the latest at 11am and he agreed. We sorted out the rope and I led the first pitch along the ridge from the col up to the foot of the first ice step. I couldn't find any suitable rock to throw a sling around to belay off so I dug two firm footholds in the snow and sat on the rock. Jon let out his coils before following me up. He came up to me and we decided to place some ice screws, which I could belay off. Jon then continued on up adopting a line closer to the cornice than I would have liked. I reminded him of the cornice, which I soon wished I hadn't as he only lay down so he could peep over the edge and see for himself. He agreed although he told me there was a lower corniced ledge ten metres or so below. The ridge increased in gradient up to and around the back of a rocky pillar. The soft snow turned to hard neve. We planned to follow the thinning tongue of ice up the back of the rock pillar. The rock pillar was loose, steep sided and over four metres tall. There was no way we could climb the rock so we were relying on the ice. It looked as though it might be overhanging, maybe with a cornice attached to the rock, but we knew Andy and Narinder had made it up so I just hoped it would withstand our weight.
Jon was half way up, just approaching the crux when a thunderous crack soared through the air. It was the sound of ice grating against each other and our feet could feel the vibrations. Almost instantaneously I looked up and was glad to see he was still there. He was peering down at me, his face pale and expressionless with a kind of shock as if to say what do I do now, not wanting to move from where he was in fear of causing the ice to collapse. There was no need for him to ask if I had heard it. The eerie silence that followed made it seem all the louder. It was clear Jon had reservations about continuing although it was painfully clear that being so close we both wanted to get to the top. We were less than fifty metres from the summit. Before either Jon or I had time to dwell on these thoughts I said to Jon "Let's go down. We aren't going to summit before eleven anyway." It was 10:45am. I knew the longer we thought about it the more we'd want to continue onto the top and so in the interests of safety it was imperative we started to descend straight away. Without any questioning or hesitation Jon was coming back down the icy slope towards me. We spent the next forty-five minutes taking in turns to stand on a lower rocky pillar, waving various bags and flags from our sponsors while the other person took photos. We packed up our things, sorted the rope out and Jon retook his coils, but not as many so there would be greater distance between the two of us on the descent. I led the way down to the col and Jon followed once the rope had been run out. From the col we could make out a yellow dot, which was our tent some 600 metres below us surrounded by snow-covered scree. We retraced our steps down the side of the cwm staying close to the snow-covered scree. My mind was too occupied with concentrating on where I was stepping to think about whether we had made the right decision or not. Mid way down the cwm we traversed diagonally down to the top of the rocky patch where we halted briefly. We had thought about going to the bottom of the snow cornice on the far side of the cwm and trying to find a way down one of the rock gullies on the other side. However the route up out of the cwm looked steep and there was no guarantee we'd be able to find a gully that we could descend. So in the end we headed back the way we'd come dropping down to just above the bergschrund, before following it to the rock on the far side of the cwm. The fresh snow had formed a loose layer on top of the glacier ice, which regularly broke off into slabs and slid down the slope, as well as clogging up my crampons.
We sat on the rock and rested. I was glad to be off the glacier - the glacier that groaned and creaked, frightening the living daylights out of anyone who heard it. I felt relatively safe, knowing we one of the most dangerous parts had been completed. This was the first chance I got to reflect upon what had gone on, on the ridge and already I was beginning to think we might have been able to carry on to the top. Jon, Alan and Steve all got to the top of Pt.6030, while Andy had climbed Tagne. I was the only person who hadn't got to the top of anything and while this didn't bother me because I knew the reasons why, I thought it would be hard to justify them to people back home without making them seem like excuses. We left our crampons on to help us descend over the rocky ledges covered with loose scree, snow and ice. They soon became more of a hindrance than a help and I didn't want to blunt them having spent ages sharpening them so I stopped to take them off. Jon led, retracing our steps, placing protection on the more difficult down-climbs. Before long we were down on the snow-covered scree, slipping, tripping and sliding down the slope. Occasionally some of the scree we dislodged carried on bounding down the slope to disappear over a ledge, which sent it into a free fall to join the screes hundreds of metres below. We continued cautiously sitting down for breathers more frequently as there was no urgency now that we were off the ice. The descent down the bottom of the scree slope seemed to go on for ages. I cursed Jon for not going faster but every time I tried to catch him up the rope either got snagged on some rock or I slipped over, implanting my backside in the sharp scree, both of which would only hold us up more. My rucksack was heavy and beginning to dig in. All I wanted to do was remove my rucksack and lie down. Eventually we reached the lower part of the Tagne glacier. Jon led the way out and I followed once I had let all the rope out. In my careless "lets get on with it" state of mind I slipped on some scree and slid three metres down the ice on my backside, stopping inches short of an open crevasse. Annoyed at being so careless and getting my salopettes filthy I stood up to continue as Jon asked if I was all right. The crossing of the glacier was again painfully slow, but then Jon had to be cautious as he was leading and it was his job to find and avoid the crevasses. At the time I thought he was being overcautious and wished that I had been leading so we could go faster, but it may have been that he was tired as well. Once across the glacier without any further incidents we wondered whether it was worth untying from the rope or not. I suggested we should, as the rope would only keep snagging on all the rocks. Jon agreed so we sat down and untied from the rope. After a long rest we continued to the foot of the valley side. I fell through a snow bridge covering a stream, which made me frustrated with myself. I let Jon ascend the scree slope first. I sat and watched while he dislodged many rocks. Once he was across I followed on a lower routes, which I thought was less steep. Once out of the valley, I traversed across the screes, while Jon descended down over them. We both got to the tent together at 3pm. The snow around the tent had all but gone and what was left was rapidly melting. We lay our clothing and equipment out on the scree to dry. The sun was strong and only a few clouds occupied the sky. The tent was like a sauna and the ice had long gone from both the inside and outside. Jon came up with a great idea: to cook the instant mash we had left and eat it so we'd have one less thing to carry down to Advanced Base Camp. With all the melting that had taken place the trickle where we had got our water from was flooded out and filled with silt-laden water, so we used the water left in our water bottles to cook with. After we'd eaten our pepperami and instant mash, Jon had a rest in the tent while I lay on my ridge rest outside. Before we knew it, it was 4:30pm. We started to pack everything into our rucksacks, clearing the tent as we went along. The tent was taken down and attached to the outside of my rucksack. We left the camp at 5:30pm after struggling to lift our heavy rucksacks on to our backs. We descended down the screes, which was much easier than when we had ascended them and then we stopped by the glacier to put crampons on. I didn't want to put my rucksack back on again, but I knew we had to get going otherwise we would run out of daylight. I was too tired to find my glacier glasses so I squinted instead. We set off at a fast pace over the ice, jumping across the higher than normal melt water streams. The sun soon dropped below the high valley side casting a dark shadow across the glacier and making it decisively chilly. We were approaching the snout of my glacier when my right crampon came half off, causing me to stumble. Not wanting to waste time, I took it off and carried it in my hand. As we descended the steep snout so all my weight was on my left foot as that still had its crampon on and before long the ball of my left foot felt as though it was on fire. At the bottom of the ice I sank shin-deep into the grey silt, covering my gaiters, boots and shins in mud. The river had eroded a couple of feet of its bank and the rock I had sat on to put my crampons on on the way up now lay in the bottom of the river. I found another rock and dumped my rucksack down by the side. My shoulders felt as though they had been stretched and pulled down to my hips. I sat down and took some deep breaths as my shoulders started to regain their feeling. I took my other crampon off and washed the silt off it in the freezing glacier melt water. The chilly breeze against the sweat I'd created carrying my rucksack soon made me very cold. As much as I didn't want to I had to get going again and that meant putting my rucksack on. We stayed on the left-hand side of the stream so we wouldn't have to cross it lower down and started off down over the screes. The rock only aggravated my left foot. The pain soon became too much, along with my aching shoulders and hips, causing me to stop and rest. I told Jon to go on as he would only get cold waiting for me, which he did after a brief rest. I hobbled on down over the rounded river boulders. I would walk for a bit and then the pain would become too much so I would have to stop and rest, sometimes for only a minute and at other times for five minutes. I crossed a boulder-strewn flood plain and then headed up through the moraine pile to reach the scree. I tried to keep going up the slope. Exerting my body when it was so weak made me retch and almost be ill. I held onto a boulder and took a few breathers before continuing slowly. I weaved in and out of the large boulders, many bigger than me, until I reached the scree slope along the base of which I walked. I stopped occasionally to regain my breath, but there was no need to sit down any more as my shoulders and feet were numb with pain. Daylight was fading fast and I was eager to get down as the tent still had to be erected and it was much easier to do in daylight. I descended diagonally down the screes towards the flat river terrace where advanced Base Camp was. The route I took was too high and very unstable. I got annoyed with myself for making it more difficult than it should have been and for wasting more time. I arrived at ABC to find Jon with the stove going and his bright orange down jacket on. I lay my rucksack on the ground. The pain flooded back to my foot and shoulders as they regained their feeling. My heavy rucksack had caused my back to ache, while my shoulders felt as though someone had chopped my arms off and sewn them back on again. My foot felt as though it was on fire and my head ached. All I wanted to do was lie down but first I had to put up the tent. This I did in what little daylight remained. I put my rucksack and equipment inside as the dew had already started to fall. I put my head torch on and then ate some chicken and noodle soup, which Jon had prepared. Instant mash flavoured with oxo and pepperami soon followed. We discussed why Andy had left so much stuff for us to take down. At first we cursed him for it, thinking he can't have listened to what we had told him to take down. But as we thought some more, I realised we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Perhaps it wouldn't all fit in the cargo duffel bag. Maybe the shepherd hadn't turned up. Only time would tell. A note left at ABC read "eat burn bury Andy". Had Andy written the note or did someone want us to eat, burn and bury Andy? We were too tired and cold to think any more. We cleared everything up and got into the shelter of our tent where we ate as many winegums and biscuits as we could. We discussed what we should do the following day; head down to Base Camp as planned with everything, start ferrying equipment down, or have a much-needed rest day. We both agreed we ought to head down as we were supposed to move out of Base Camp the day after. It was 9pm by the time we got to finally lie down.
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© Copyright Steve Jolly 2001. |
