I knew he’d been crying.
‘They’re all dead,’ he added.
I put the phone down and lay on the bed and cried my eyes out, cried and cried and cried. I cried with relief, but also because now I knew, knew what it felt like to lose someone you love.
The following day, the last of the holiday for Mandy and the kids, we went to the top of Les Houches and made the most of our newfound love of skiing, feeling like a family for the first time in what felt like forever.
The slopes were full of people having uncomplicated fun, going up, coming down, never going anywhere, connecting with that childlike whoosh of speed.
I looked over at the Dru, cold and distant, shuddering at the thought of being up there. It seemed so long ago since the Lafaille, my high-water mark, a thousand years ago, not four.
Through it I’d been granted access to an ideal life, a semi-pro climber, free to do whatever I wanted, a small window of fame. But this wasn’t the life I’d imagined it would lead to. I guess I didn’t have the foresight to see that climbing is always the easy part, and that normal life is the struggle.
By late afternoon Ewen was flagging.
‘You and Ella keep skiing and we’ll see you at the cafe at the bottom,’ said Mandy. ‘Just be safe,’ she added.
‘I will,’ I said.
We skied along together, father and daughter, Ella’s skills now sufficient for her to manage blue runs without me holding her hand. We had a ball, and our shared exhilaration seemed to rub away the cloud that had hung over me for a very long time.
Taking the chairlift back up, I would ski ahead, then wait for her, Ella drawing up beside me each time with a smile.
We got to a steeper section than normal, dropping through a patch of trees, the other skiers slowly making a few careful turns. Ella hesitated.
‘Don’t be scared, just focus and you’ll be fine. Be bold,’ I said, half joking, but taking my advice, she charged down, barely in control.
On the way back up, I told her that unlike skiing, when you’re climbing coming down is always the most dangerous part of a climb, and it was then, when your guard is down, that you must focus the most.
‘You’re always careful aren’t you dad?’ she asked, looking up at me, flecks of snow sticking to her eyebrows.
‘Always.’
It came to me, as we rose up through the trees, that I’d been descending for a long time, since that moment on the Devil’s Dihedral on Fitz Roy. Four years of coming down.
Was I at the bottom, on safe ground?
Was it safe to stop?
The day was almost over, so we headed for the cable car with the rest of the skiers not confident of skiing safely all the way down the mountain.
‘Ella,’ I said as we prepared to enter the queue, ‘why don’t we ski down instead?’
She gave me a look, the kind of look that said she knew better, that sensible parent look I should have.
‘Come on, you can do it.’
Down we swooshed, me going first, looking for the easiest line, Ella just behind me.
Within a few hundred metres we passed a skier being treated by medics and ski-patrollers, which helped focus the mind. With a child the blue piste suddenly seemed much steeper, and as evening fell, the light became flat and the slope more difficult to read.
With each drop, I could sense the anxious grind of Ella’s tiny skis as she ploughed harder. A few times she stopped because she feared it was all beyond her, the gathering darkness adding to the sense of dread, but each time I told her she could do it, and she did.
The whole descent was nine hundred metres through the trees, and her tiny legs soon grew tired.
‘When you do something impossible, Ella, you’ve just got to do one bit at a time until it becomes possible,’ I told her as she looked down nervously.
‘Anyway, we’re nearly down,’ I told her, wondering how far it really was.
At last the valley lights grew bright and we were on the final slope down to the cafe, skiing side by side, father and daughter, Ella’s shoulders slumped with fatigue, her arms by her sides, ski poles dragging as the mammoth snow plow drew to its end.
‘Stay focused, Ella,’ I warned her. ‘You’re not down yet.’
I knew we would never forget this moment.
I swept down to the car park amongst the last few skiers, stopping with a quick sideways slide, clicking off my skis like someone who knew what he was doing. Ella came to a wobbly half-stop, running over my skis and grabbing my arm just before she carried on to the tarmac.
I looked down at her, her face raised up to mine, her eyes closed in mock-exhaustion. I was so proud.
I lifted her up and gave her a big hug, her skis bashing my knees, whispering ‘Don’t bloody tell your mum you did that.’
The cafe was hot and noisy, the floor running wet from a thousand stomping snowy boots. My glasses instantly steamed up. I took them off and stood at the threshold, wiping them dry, all the faces suddenly indistinct, apart from Ella’s at my side.
‘There they are,’ she cried, pointing, leading her half-blind father through the crowd to Mandy and Ewen. Ewen’s red ski-suit was round his ankles, his face covered in hot chocolate, utterly content.
‘Where have you been?’ asked Mandy, relieved to see us, her hands held to her chest. ‘I was about to call the mountain rescue.’
She always seemed to be relieved or anxious. I allowed myself to believe that now I knew how it felt, that I could empathise. That I knew how it felt to watch someone go and worry that they might not come back. In my life there had been people who had gone and not come back. I had learned the trick of placing them in boxes, and putting them away. Each time my father drove off, his box would close. It was the only way.
But now there were people who could not be hidden – and it was me who was always leaving, just like my dad. I wanted them to put me into a box, but they wouldn’t, and so they paid the price.
‘I was so worried,’ said Mandy as she helped Ella unzip her suit, her little face flushed.
‘We were having an adventure,’ I said, my hand on Ella’s shoulder, her face also beaming at our secret as she shuffled up next to Ewen.
I took my place at the end of the table, Mandy at the other, the kids between us.
‘Will you miss drinking so much hot chocolate?’ I asked Ewen as he tried to scoop out the dregs with a teaspoon, most of it missing his mouth.
He was too focused to answer, and simply nodded.
‘He really missed you two,’ said Mandy.
‘Not Ella,’ added Ewen, looking up from his drink.
I ordered two more hot chocolates in terrible French.
‘I hope you take up skiing rather than climbing,’ Mandy told Ella, wiping Ewen’s face with a tissue.
‘I’ll disown her if she turns into a skier,’ I replied, only half-joking.
‘I want to be a climber like Dad,’ she said, shuffling over to me and hugging my arm.
I saw her life pass before my eyes.
‘Maybe being a skier wouldn’t be so bad,’ I said quickly. ‘At least it’s better than golf.’
I noticed the room was beginning to thin out, as the skiers boarded buses for home, or hobbled to their cars in their clunky boots.
‘Did you enjoy your skiing holiday?’ asked Mandy, sounding a little like a teacher, our kids now officially middle class.
‘Was alright,’ said Ella.
Tomorrow they would be gone, and I had a week left on my own. But I knew this trip was over. I’d not climb another route this winter. I wondered if I’d ever climb another route again. Maybe if I’d climbed something hard this trip it would have been the end. I could have finished on a high note. Summits had never been that relevant, just way-marks on the road, but I needed one more, to round off the story. Life’s never like that though.
‘Let’s have one last drink,’ I said, happy to just sit in the warm. ‘This is always the best part of any adventure, the bit I like most.’
‘Which bit?’ said Ella, looking around the room as if I had seen something she hadn’t.
I stared out of the window through the gathering darkness at the last ember of sunlight on the mountaintop above us. Then it faded, leaving only my reflection.
‘I like the end,’ I said, turning back to Ella with my answer. ‘When it’s over and I’m human again. And I can see the magic.’
Climbing 101
A short non-climbers guide to climbing
I once read a book about a guy sailing single-handed to Greenland in a tiny yacht, his story full of terrifying storms, ship-sinking icebergs and waves big enough to smash an aircraft carrier. It was great little book as it gave me an insight into something I had no real understanding of until then, having always seen sailing as the sport of toffs. The only problem was for much of the book I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, the story full of technical details: spars and booms and mainsails; strange knots and hanks and sheets; not to mention all the usual bewildering nautical terms for things we already have known names for, like back and front, left and right.
Reading this book it suddenly occurred to me that non-climbers might find my stories equally confusing, and although I endeavour to keep such techie stuff to a minimum, sometimes even the most basic things may prove a little confusing.
So here are a few answers to the fundamental questions a non-climber may ask.
Q: How do you climb?
A: Most climbers use just their hands and feet (free climbing), climbing the rock as you would climb up the side of a building or tree. If the holds become too small to use, you either have to stop or alternatively resort to artificial means (aka ‘aid’), pulling yourself up, or standing on protection placed in the rock. On ice, spiked crampons attached to your boots are used to gain traction, and an ice axe is used in each hand to aid balance, allowing vertical ice to be climbed.
Q: How do you stay safe when you climb?
A: Climbers usually work in a team of two, joined by a single or double length of rope (fifty to sixty metres long). This is tied to each climber via a harness around the waist. The climber who goes first is called the ‘leader,’ while the one who holds their rope (using a metal belay device that locks down on the rope in a fall) is called the ‘belayer.’ As the leader climbs the belayer slowly pays out the rope, giving the leader just enough slack so they can move. The leader places protection in the rock as they ascend (rocks, cams or pegs), clipping this into their rope(s) via karabiners. This way they create a safety chain through which the rope slides. If one piece fails in a fall, then there should be another piece not far below, climbers generally placing a piece of gear roughly every five feet.
Q: What if you fall?
A: If the leader falls their rope will be held by the belayer (via their belay device), with their weight coming onto their highest piece of protection. This means they should only fall twice the distance above their last piece of protection. For example, if the leader is twenty metres above the ground, places a solid nut in a crack, climbs one metre higher and then falls, they will fall two metres. As long as there is plenty of protection then the climber is safe: the less protection there is the greater the danger.
Q: How do you carry enough gear for a long route?
A: The leader places the protection to safeguard themselves, and on reaching the end of the rope (the pitch), they secure themselves and now belay their belayer up (the belayer is also know as the ‘second’ for this reason). As the second climbs they remove all the protection placed, allowing the next climber to lead.
Q: What about jumaring?
A: Jumaring is used on very hard routes, or aid climbs, where it would be too slow for the belayer to re-climb the pitch which the leader has just completed. In order to speed things up they simply use two mechanical clamps on the rope – one attached to the harness, the other to one foot – allowing them to climb up the rope.
GLOSSARY
Abseil To descend a rope using a Descender.
Aid Climbing Climbing using gear for resting or making progress.
Aider A ladder-like sling used to climb up when Aid Climbing.
Angle Peg See Peg.
Arête An outward pointing bit of rock: a ridge or rib.
Ascender A device for climbing a rope when all else fails. Also see Jumaring.
Axe Climbing ice axe that can be swung into ice or turf. Used in pairs.
Beak A tiny Peg, the thickness of a credit card.
Belay (noun) A place where you attach yourself to the rock.
Belay Device A piece of equipment which you use to control the rope when Belaying.
Belaying Fixing a rope round a rock, pin, or other object, to secure it.
Bergschrund Crevasse that forms between a mountain face and the moving glacier at its base.
Beta Prior knowledge of trick moves, protection or just about anything about a route available before you start climbing.
Birdbeak See Beak.
Bivy Bag Gore-tex sleeping-bag cover.
Bolt An expansion bolt fixed permanently into the rock face to protect a climb or form a Belay.
Break A horizontal crack.
Bulge A small rounded overhang.
Cam A complex expanding nut with three or four opposing camming lobes, used in cracks of all sizes.
Chalk Magnesium carbonate used to dry the hands when climbing.
Chickenhead American term for a small lump of intrusive rock which sticks out of a slab.
Chimney A crack wide enough to fit your whole body into.
Chockstone A piece of rock which is jammed immovably in a crack.
Choss Soil, dirt, rubble, stones, vegetation, in fact anything other than good clean stable rock.
Cleaning The act of removing protection placed by the leader, performed by the second as he/she follows.
Copperhead Alloy or copper Nut that can be hammered to fit in seams and flared cracks allowing progress but not protection.
Crux The hardest move on a Pitch or the hardest pitch on a climb.
Daisy Chain Long sling with multiple places to clip into, and used in conjunction with aiders.
Deadhead Fixed Copperhead with broken clip cable.
Descender A friction device used when abseiling, such as a figure of eight or a Belay Device.
Étrier See Aider.
Expanding Flake A flake that moves when pulled on, or which looks as if it might move or even detach completely if pulled hard enough.
Figure of Eight The most commonly used knot to attach a climber to the rope.
Fixed See In Situ.
Flake A partially detached section of rock which will often yield good holds along its detached edge.
Free Climbing Progressing up a route by using your body rather than the gear.
Hammer Wooden-shafted hammer used to place Pegs.
Haul-Bag Large heavy-duty rucksack (150+ litres) used to hold all your big-wall gear on the climb.
Hauling The process of dragging up your Haul-bags after each pitch.
Head Short for Copperhead.
Hex A large alloy nut. Sizes range from finger to fist.
Hook See Skyhook.
In Situ Latin for ‘in place’. Used for protection that is found on the climb, placed by a previous climber, including Pegs and Bolts.
Jamming The technique of inserting part (or all) of the body into a crack to make progress.
Jug An excellent handhold.
Jumaring The technique of climbing a rope using jumar clamps.
Karabiner An oval metal hoop with a springloaded ‘gate’. Rope and protection are attached to karabiners. Also known as a ‘krab’. Karabiners come in many forms, and arguments about which is best occupy many hours in gear shops.
Knifeblade Peg See Peg.
Leader The person going up the route first: the one who solves the conundrum of ‘how do you get the rope up there then?’ hence ‘lead a route’ and ‘leading a route’. Is followed by the Second.
Mantleshelf Technique used to establish yourself on a ledge below a blank piece of rock. Often shortened to ‘mantle.’
Micro-wire The tiniest of climbing Nuts, being the size of a large pinhead, with an equal amount of strength.
Nut The simplest form of protection. A metal wedge threaded on steel wires, intended to go into cracks and stay there. The name comes from the practice of 1950s climbers, who used motorcycle nuts.
Offwidth The most awkward width of crack: too wide for fist jamming, but too narrow to Chimney.
Peg A simple length of steel, either u-shaped (Angle Peg) or flat (Knifeblade) with an eye in one end for clipping the rope to. Hammered in place.
Pendulum Swinging on a length of rope in order to obtain a distant hold.
Pitch A section of a climb, usually close to a rope length.
Piton A peg or spike hammered into a crack to support a climber on a rope.
Placement The place in the rock face where Protection is actually positioned.
Portaledge Folding bed made from alloy tubing and nylon and used on a big wall.
Pro Abbreviation of Protection.
Protection Also known as gear. The devices that climbers use to prevent themselves from hitting the floor.
Pulley Metal wheel used to increase the mechanical advantage when Hauling.
Quickdraw Two snap-gate Karabiners linked by a short sling equal one quickdraw.
Rack A collection of gear, usually attached to loops on a harness.
Rappel Another word for Abseil.
Rivet A 5mm x 50mm machine Bolt hammered into a drilled hole on blank sections of rock.
Screamer Sling A shock-absorbing sling.
Screwgate A locking karabiner.
Seam A very thin crack, one too small for any protection wider than a Knifeblade peg.
Second The person who belays the Leader, and gets the fun of taking out their protection on the way up. Being the second is generally less dangerous than leading, because you have a rope above you – except on traverses, when it can open you up to big swings if you fall off and the leader has not put in enough protection.
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