4 July 2007

ClimbI tried without success to peer through powerful winds and driving snow for a glimpse of our completed route up the lower reaches of what the French call “La Dame Blanche”. Despite the horrific conditions, I was suddenly struck by a feeling of such awe that the butterflies in my stomach seemed to multiply and a wave of nausea briefly swam over me. It is not until you are in the presence of something this magnificent do you realise how fragile and insignificant our time really is. Here is a natural monument of incredible proportions, forged millions of years ago by the brutal forces of continental shift and I was standing on it…just.

30 June 2007

Some four days previously, I arrived at Gatwick airport to embark on what I hoped was to be the experience of a lifetime. Upon arrival at Chamonix Experience HQ, my gear was quickly stowed and I headed outside for my first glimpse of the challenge that lay ahead… Glancing around at the other climbers involved in this project, my sense of trepidation increased slightly with the realization that they all seemed to be serious athletes. What had we gotten ourselves into? It suddenly and rather depressingly dawned on us – Gary and I were officially the fattest men in Chamonix! After a series of introductions to the Chamonix Experience staff and the mountain rescue team, (whom I hoped to only meet once), we turned in for what would be a restless night.

1 July 2007

Morning could not come soon enough for me as we were to begin the first part of our training. I collected my safety harness, crampons and pair of ice axes and suited up with the rest of the climbing party. To prepare for the 70m ice climb that comes in the early stages of the ascent, we were required to do some fairly extensive ice training. The climb to the glacier fields takes you over the 3000m mark and really starts the acclimatisation process.

2 / 3 July 2007

On day two we set out for the Torino Hut to continue the acclimatisation process above 3600m which really clears out the cobwebs. We underwent further glacier training on the Aguille du Midi glacier, and more hiking to exercise the body and build up further resistance to altitude. We spent the night in a hut but did not catch a wink of sleep – the days climbing had really taken it out of me and I was beginning to worry about having anything left for the big day.

The next stage of the process came on the 3rd day when we began another serious altitude climb on “Le Petit Flambé” (Little flame), one of the finger like mountain towers that make up one of Mont Blancs’ most impressive sights. We nicknamed them “The Spires” as they looked like something straight out of Mordor from Lord of the Rings. This climb takes you beyond the 3800m mark and was the highest I had ever been. Despite my initial fears, it proved to be a real confidence booster as my body was beginning to adjust and I finally stopped wheezing like a sick animal. It wasn’t all fun and games as the steep 60 degree incline climb over rocky cerracs meant that the danger of avalanche was significantly increased. We were forced to cut our own footholds into the slope with our ice axes as the surface was just too slick to rely solely on crampons. Hard work and yet another enjoyable, adrenalin fuelled ascent under our belts. We then descended all the way down to base camp as a summit attempt must be made from the bottom for it to be considered official.

The following day we would set off for the Tete Roussous Hut for an ascent from 2800 all the way to 3800 in one hit. However, the weather reports coming in were predicting severe weather conditions over the next few days and it wasn’t looking good. I don’t admit this lightly, but I was genuinely scared.

4 July 2007

Day four arrived all too quickly and I was up at the crack of dawn to take in my last view of “La Dame” from the base of the mountain. It was still very dark but the sun was strong enough to cast an eerie glow over the summit and surrounding peaks. The gusting winds were just about visible whipping snow off the peak and hurling it into the screaming air currents that are prevalent above 15,000 ft. The weather was bad and reports of storm conditions approaching from the North West meant that we were in for a challenging two days. I couldn’t help but think about the safety briefing from last night:

“This is a real climb, with a success rate of only 50%...”

The weather was ominous and a nagging doubt had begun to surface in the back of my mind that summiting could be off the cards come tomorrow. In my group, I was climbing with two counter terrorist police operatives and my mate Gary – talk about a tough bunch.

Gary is a veteran of Her Majesty’s SAS, generally held to be the most elite fighting outfit on the planet and I was chuffed that so far, I had managed to keep pace. I was looking forward to standing side by side with him at 15,780 ft, but after several hours of hard climbing we realised that things were not going to plan. The wind was tearing down the incline, hurling snow into us as we walked. This made the going even harder – my lungs felt tight and empty and my thighs felt like a bag of rocks, full of knotted muscle and swimming in lactic acid. Safety became a real concern at this stage, as a calorie depleted body and an oxygen starved brain can lead to mistakes with dire consequences. I looked at Gary, breath coming out in great plumes of mist with ice caked over his face mask and it gave me only small comfort to know that he was finding it just as hard as me. Eventually we could go no further and we were forced to turn back to base camp.

The nagging doubts that had surfaced earlier really made their voices heard as we headed into the lower valley. Unfortunately, the voices were correct, and after a quick debrief we were told that it was far too hazardous to make a bid for the top. You have to understand that this is something that Gary and I had set out to achieve some 6 months ago and we were fully acclimatised, fit and raring to go only to be denied by the weather. This disappointment brought on a huge row – with the guides, with each other and anyone else within earshot. The words; “Severe to gale force winds at 4000m +”, staring up at me from the long range weather transcripts made the decision somewhat easier for me to accept, but try telling Gary that – he still wanted to go for it.

After the guide explained that in this particular situation, no amateur or professional climber in their right minds would attempt the climb and that death was a very real possibility – Gary backed down. (Two climbers who did ignore this advice sadly died on the mountain later that night). Despite the weather, we decided to attempt the back up mountain some 50 miles away in Italy – Gran Paradiso. This may sound like a cocktail one might order at happy hour in Sugar Hut, but it is certainly no walk in the park. Although shorter than Mont Blanc, Gran Paradiso is a longer, and in many places, more intimidating climb. Now it may sound like I’m trying to talk up a less challenging mountain but I assure you that’s not the case. I was just so set on standing on Mont Blanc that at the time anything less seemed like failure. However, if we managed to summit GP it would still be a real feather in the cap and a 4000m+ peak is a huge milestone in mountaineering terms.

5 July 2007

The decision having been made, we drove the 50 miles across the border and went for it. As we were already sufficiently acclimatised from the heavy training regime we underwent on Mont Blanc, an attempt was possible almost immediately… Our group set off for the Cabot Refuge Hut at 2750m, climbing at a rate of just over 300m per hour and I’d never felt better. We reached the hut around late afternoon and settled in for the night – the plan being to rise at 4am for a summit bid taking around 5 hours.

I got little sleep as the thin air makes it very difficult to get comfortable, and I found myself excited/scared all over again at the realisation that we may summit in a few short hours. I came out of a brief doze on the hard wooden shelf at about 3.30am to the sound of wind howling through cracks in the weathered roof. A quick hot meal of something with the taste and consistency of dog food, and I clipped on my crampons and hauled the 10kg pack on to my aching shoulders.

After a few hours, it started to get really tough. Although we were 50 miles away this was a big weather system, and we were high enough to be caught up in blizzard conditions with high winds and white-out’s… I would count my steps up to 300 hundred and then start all over again to try and get a rhythm going, but as the air became thinner and AMS set in, my brain ceased to function properly and I couldn’t count past ten. I really wanted to stop, rest and take in the view but was reluctant to interrupt the steady internal cadence to which I had been climbing so well and we pressed on. We pushed through the cloud line and as visibility improved, the temptation to stop became too great and I paused to look breathlessly into the valley below. It was an incredible sight – with heavy snow still swirling around the rolling blanket of low lying cloud. That picture will stay with me forever and any thoughts of Mont Blanc quickly evaporated despite its menacing presence, shrouded in mist 50 miles away across the border.

The last 150 ft were the hardest. Adrenalin took over but even that was not enough to stave off the impact of extreme altitude and I began to cough violently. Hands on knees I staggered on towards the top, vision blurring slightly. Negotiating the narrow ridge that leads to the top was the most terrifying part of the 6 days. This route is literally a metre wide path of jagged icy rock, and even though the winds were relatively light – it still felt like enough to make me lose my grip at any point. The drop is sheer on either side with nothing to stop you except the other climbers. We were roped together about 8m apart with the idea being that if one climber goes, the rest can dig ice axes and crampons into the mountain preventing what is a 1500ft fall into nothingness. (God help them if I’d fallen – at a svelte 16.5 stones, I would have taken some stopping!).

Finally, we reached the patch of jagged rock that was the summit, a statue of ‘The Madonna’ marking the highest point in Italy. Our guide kindly moved down several feet to allow Gary and I to revel in our triumph alone and we high fived, hugged and yelled (in a rather corny fashion), as much as our oxygen starved lungs would allow. I can’t put it into words so I won’t even bother to try. I can only hope that by looking at the pictures you get some idea of my feelings at that moment – It was incredibly emotional and I don’t mind admitting that I almost shed a tear. I quickly unfurled the Commercial First flag and posed for the camera, grinning like an idiot. (I tied the flag on, and left it flying at the summit in case future climbers need to take advantage of market leading commercial finance!).

We stayed – wordless – on the summit for about 15 minutes, sitting on the cold, snow covered rock and staring out into space as the sun finished its own ascent in the skies behind us. When it came time to begin the descent, the adrenalin kicked in again as I realized that that ridge was waiting for me. I took the lead and set off wanting to get it over and done with, and thankfully the group managed to negotiate the ridge without incident. After three hours we paused briefly at the Cabot Hut for a quick sandwich before moving on to base camp. I won’t go into the descent in any more detail so for those of you who are interested, just picture the climb up…but in reverse.

Arriving back at around 4pm, we quickly jumped into the car and drove back to Chamonix to celebrate. I’d like to say that I was far too exhausted for a party but the “climbing bug” had well and truly taken hold, and the leftover adrenalin surging through my body carried me through several Margaritas, beers and shots! Soon after, the physical and mental stress of the climb, and the vast quantity of alcohol now working its way around my bloodstream suddenly caught up with me and I collapsed onto a sofa. The vision of brilliant sunshine, reflected off snow and ice at the top of Italy foremost in my mind as I fell into a deep sleep.

Altogether Commercial First and some Key Partners have raised £2,400 for Muscular Dystrophy – a terrible illness that affects so many people and Gary and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts for all your donations. Amongst many other things, this experience has made me thankful for my health and the opportunity to experience things denied to so many by illness. I hope our contribution helps those less fortunate, and I look forward to my next challenge…

Mt Elbrus, Russia. 5,670m...

Nathan Calcott, Further Advance Manager