page 3

Intervention

The relief in leaving the wet, frozen cave was tremendous. The star dotted canopy and the faintly glistening ice crystals of the frozen snow offered the opportunity of exhilaration. What a day was promised. Stopping to adjust clothing, the pack, a slow gaze around the dark snow peaked horizon and it's away across the col to the base of the climb. The crunch of crampons on the solid crust sends shivers of expectation tingling.

Steadily the mountain features more and more in our view and we have to look higher to see the top. The avalanche scarred slope entices with the prospect of perfect snow. Under the shadow of the rocks the climb begins. Upwards across the snow following a line protected by the rocks we climb. Nothing is said, nothing is heard save the rhythm of human exertion. The sweat begins to form, to cool in the pre-dawn chill. The sky gets lighter and distant peaks begin to burn golden in the morning's fire, but under the rocks the shadows linger.

The climbing is fantastic, increasingly steep, but on frozen snow it exhilarates Kick, kick and shift the pick, and again, and again, and again in easy natural sequence. Climbing on form you flow up the slope In the vast panorama that surrounds you, insignificant on a mountainside, the reality of solitude brings the experience of self-realisation that we all strive for in our elusive realities.

The rock ends and the slope is cut by a slot. We work our way out towards the middle, looking for a crossing which presents itself. Several swings with the axe give access to the upper slope and the avalanche debris is below us. Above, the tops of the peaks on the plateau are in the sun, the day grows. The slope, in virginal purity, stretches up and away to the ridge that gives access to the summit. The way is straight up. perfect front pointing, up and up, the calves begin to murmur, up and the top is just above, up and we're there, in the sun. North is Aspiring, east Earnslaw south Tutoko, all glowing in towering isolation above their lesser counterparts.

A rest, a drink, photos and we're away again, sidling round to the foot of a gully that runs to the top. Put on the rope, search out a good belay and it's into the gully. The pack is left behind and we climb, uneasy on the verglass that cracks and tumbles below. Place a nut and the last pitch up to the summit passes.

Life is placid, sitting on the top in the early morning watching the mountains that are our world. Away west is the ocean while below us is the cracked basin of the plateau. The snowcave is visible but insignificant. Slowly the morning shadows fade and there's no time left to linger for the urge to climb is upon us and the day has just begun.

K.S.