Fun And Games
As appeared in Irish Mountain Log, Spring 2005.
What's life without fun and games? This year Conor O'Shea, Neil Johnston and I took 3 months of our annual holiday quota to climb and generally chill out in the European Alps. While no amount of words on paper or photographs can ever fully recreate the situations, I've attempted to recount some small portions of our trip below.
For me, the MCI Alpine Meet has always been an enjoyable and rewarding experience. I know of none who will disagree; if you like the outdoors and like having fun, there's something there for you. This years meet in La Berarde was no exception, fantastic people, beautiful mountains, amazing rock and wonderful memories. One route I'd be hesitant to recommend to most people was the Gervasutti/Devies route on the North West Pillar of Ailefroide. We came to La Berarde with the intention of climbing some big routes, and this was our first objective. Weather had been a little mixed the first few days of the meet, but we made the most of the breaks to climb some nice rock routes on the Aiguille Dibona and Aiguille de la Gandolière. We embraced the Tour de France spirit by cycling from Bourg d'Oisans to McDonald's in Briançon (a rewarding experience) and back again (a harrowing experience).
With the arrival of settled weather we could finally attempt something more committing. Conor and I set off to bivy on the glacier de Coste Rouge, under the towering North West Face of Ailefroide Occidental. Meanwhile Neil and Gina Smyth headed further south down the Pilatte Valley towards Le Bans. Those who know me will know I like my food. That bivy under the Ailefroide reminded me why I threw up my food a lot when I was a baby. Our meal that evening was powdered potato and soup paste, a struggle. Perhaps eating manky pasty food is an accidental attempt to extend the hardship of the route, or maybe just some form of preparation. Another way we found to add to the hardship was to cycle 130km with no padded shorts, sudo-creme became a necessity. We both dozed off into some form of bivy sleep knowing full well it would end soon. We planned to leave our bivy early to get onto the route before the sun. The route passes a couloir low down on the face. The couloir acts like a funnel for falling rock from vast portions of the face. It was important to cross it early. The rising temperature of the day would mean more rockfall, which is no fun. I woke and began the porridge making process. I shook Conor and initially the only response I got was "Wibble wobble chocolate bobble, wibble wobble out". I'd obviously interrupted one of his bivy dreams and he was quite upset when I told him he had to help me eat the pot of porridge and jam. It was only a small bit better than our previous days dinner.
Our intended route was big. Having climbed a similar route on the north-east face of the mountains Pointe Fourastier a week or so previously, we knew we'd be on the go for perhaps 20 hours until reaching civilization again. The pleasures and surprises the route throws at you are something to experience first hand. Like any big alpine rock route I've climbed this one too had loads of loose rock scattered on it's ledges; never expect otherwise. Recent snowfall thankfully kept rock fall to a minimum and having the route to ourself also kept things safer. The climbing while never being extremely technically hard, was sustained and at times very exposed and dangerous. Verglas and ice added to the excitement. After perhaps ten or twelve hours of climbing we were rewarded by reaching the summit, as well as by the sunshine and an explosion of views.
Just like a good meal, the route wasn't over after the main course. Descending from the Ailefroide isn't straight forward. Guide books describe a breche which one must traverse as far as before making a relatively straightforward descent. Traversing the ridge was like playing twister on the top of a near complete game of jenga. Like our previous descent from the mountain, we stopped our traverse before reaching the mythical breche and instead followed a series of dodgy abseils down an unknown gully; the first that looked feasible. You wont find our techniques in any text book, but they worked and a few hours later saw us, two wet tangled and icy climbers, reach the glacier along with our wet, tired and icy ropes. All that was left was to descend two vertical and maybe ten horizontal kilometers to the village of Ailefroide. We managed to hitch down to the warmer village of Pelvoux that night in our state of delirium. With a KISU and bit of tin foil for comfort we lay for a few hours in a bus shelter before hitching the 100km or so back to La Berarde. Arriving about 28 hours after starting our route, we'd completed a grand circumnavigation of the Ecrin. I ate a jar of Nutella to celebrate. We went rock climbing on Le Maye that day; a 250m bolted granite crag only a stone's throw from the campsite. Our sleeping bags stayed under the Ailefroide that night but Alpine meet partying kept us warm right through it.
With the meet at an end, we moved our attention elsewhere. While the numbers had
dwindled, the Alpine Meet spirit continued to follow us through to Chamonix and onto
Vicosaprano in the beautiful Bregallia. Our next little adventure involved, cheap
Italian supermarket fashion, wine, Latino flesh, paddy Irishmen, paddy Englishmen,
two Germans and an American. After a wonderful days climbing on the Placche del Boggia
near Chiavenna, we made an even more exciting trip to the Iperal in Lecco. There we
found a massive sale on their clothing, a mambo cd with a very rude cover of a tanned
lady, some excellent valued wine and beer and some remarkable local fresh food produce.
That night, to the delight of the respectable clientele at our campsite, like a true
team of superheros we transformed from a group of smelly boy climbers and non-smelly
girl climber, into 'Gina Simone and the Vicosapranos'. You had to be there...
Our plans developed to go climb the Piz Badile - but with a twist. We'd do it in our Italian porn star fashion - the route that is, no Latinos involved. So we made our merry ways up the forest track above Bondo in my ever so faithful car. Walking in to the bivy gave me a no feeling. It was raining and i got wet, my knees hurt and I really wanted my mommy. The north-east face was covered in torrents of water, and lightening was lighting up the sky. Thankfully the storm passed and checking the face before dinner we reckoned it would be dry enough the following morning to climb. We snuggled into our five star bivy. Richie 'Mercury' Doyle was to join Conor and myself on the Cassin route on the North Face, while Gina 'Simone' Smyth and Jeff Gardner would climb the classic North ridge. We'd meet at the top, have a picnic and live happily ever after.
We rose early, but not early enough. Even midweek the popular routes on the Piz Badile are swamped with parties, none however with as highly toned physiques as us. We quickly caught up to a bottleneck with English and German teams laying siege on an early crux pitch. Both teams seemed determined not to let us well dressed, well mannered young men pass by. The sun was splitting the stones. Hanging around in my harness was splitting mine. The English soon began to notice the curry we'd had for dinner and let us pass. In an attempt to get ahead of the Germans we opted to shorten the ropes up a bit and move together to pass them by. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my left knee bent sideways unexpectedly; the way it's not supposed to. Unaware and out of sight below, Conor and Richie were surely alarmed as I climbed down leaving them with loops of slack to contemplate. I reached the safety of a ledge where the German was belaying. He was frightened, I was sore. I felt like puking. I belayed up my well dressed compadres. We decided to swap leads. In the back of my mind I knew I couldn't call for rescue, not the way I was dressed. We had to climb off the route. I realised although very painful, the best thing for my knee was to keep mobile on it, and I could climb if I kept it completely straight. I tried to just keep everything together and enjoy what is a very nice route.
Descending the North Ridge, was not nice. The look of puzzlement on everyones face as I hobbled past them down the mountain, moving like a crab, kept a warm smile inside me. I was happy to reach our bivy. Gina had some sweets. I like sweets. The sore knee was a great oppurtunity to go on a little holiday. Richie and Neil had to fly back to Ireland. Conor, Gina, Jeff and myself went to Croatia for a splash in the Mediterranean. The mountains drew us back like a magnet. We Climbed routes in the Julian Alps and Dolomites before making the long journey back to Ireland, all eyes intact.