1000m

We hung around in the hut for about half an hour, trying to regain a portion of our strength for the gruelling descent. Our rucksacks became heavy again as we refilled our water supplies and repacked our crampons.

Steve lead as it would be easier for Pascal to perform any emergency manouver from the end of the rope. It took us around an hour to reach the bottom of the scramble route, where we dashed across the Grande Couloire again. For a second time the mountain allowed us to pass unhindered.

We boot-skiied across the Tete Rousse ice field and took our harnesses off. The wind whipped up and threw horizontal rain at us. Pascal went on ahead followed by Steve as I struggled to get my waterproofs and gloves on.

The rain didn’t last long and I decided to stop, sit on a big rock and soak in the Alps and the Chamonix valley. It was time to reflect without all of the urgency that had driven us along thusfar. A weight had been lifted and I felt a shift in how I was participating within this magnificent landscape. I was no longer forcing my way through and surviving, I was now a pastoral observer. The main hazards lay behind us, there were no more monsters to fight. I took my gloves off and sucked in all of the surrounding mountains, rivers, glaciers and valleys, in one long, slow and deep breath. Holding all of these things in my lungs made my head feel light so I exhaled them back and got to my feet.

Steve was waiting for me further down, chatting to a couple of young lads who were on their way down also. So they accompanied us. The last leg of the return was propably the most gruelling on our feet and I couldn’t remember it being nearly as long. Finally the high level train station came into view. I hobbled onto the tiny platform and rejoined Steve and Pascal. I was desperate to take the pressure of my feet as I could feel blisters developing. It was then that we were told that the train was broken. It would be another 2 and a half hours before it would be operational again. And it was raining again. We waited for conformation of this before deciding to walk down the track to the cable car ourselves, another hour away. I felt that this news would not go down well with Patrick when he arrived.

Chris emerged from the mountain path on his own and agreed to join our team back to the cable car. We followed the railway lines down to a ruined building then cut across and around a well maintained path. The route was fringed with all manner of Alpine flowers, the sun emerged and warmed the grasses and flora, releasing drowsey scents into the air. It was a pleasant, high level Alpine stroll. We reached the cable car and were soon back at 1000m.

Pascal left to get the train home and we got the bus back to Chamonix.

That evening we met up with Andy, Matt, Patrick and Dean (who had made a sucessful summit of the Eiger) and we all went for an Indian and a couple of celebratory pints. While we were chatting in a local bar, the heavens tore open and heavy downpour came down. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who gave a thought to the climbers high up on the Goutier right now.

Back at the apartment we stood an watched a spectacular lightning display dance over the mountains above us. The soundrtrack was provided by an orchestra of thunder claps.