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| Phil Winder |
Ascent of Mont
By
Phil Winder
Part 1
Not since 1953, when the Queen, after her coronation, climbed Mt Everest with Sherpa Tennison, has the news of a greater ‘feet’ of mountaineering broken on the unsuspecting British public than the ascent of Mt. Pelvoux
When their leaders, John Hughes and Peter Neumann, abandoned the base camp and its rarefied ATMOSPHERE, three members of the expedition remained. They were (in descending order of weight) Peter Griffies, Ray Withnall and last and certainly least, Phil Winder. They had resolved to do something BIG. (But Bob Wint wasn’t there). Their attention was turned to Mont Poldu (sic).
No information was available concerning the route; bookshops were scoured for information, in vain.
‘We will just have to give it OUR BEST SHOT,’ said Ray as Phil brought him his tea in bed that fateful morning on the 28th August. The day had dawned warm and sunny with no hint of WHAT WAS TO COME. The meteo was quietly confident of ‘beau temps’ for the next day. The first plan was to take the mountain by STORM tactics (a la Neumann / Winder method) but this was rejected because of a lack of confidence in the route and the fact that we thought it would be too ‘naquering’.
Mid afternoon saw our intrepid trio, fully accoutred, moving up the valley path from Ailefroide (1,500 metres). ‘NEIL! NEIL! Climb when you are ready. (Pause) NEIL! Where the bloody hell are you?’ Just some Brits on a 1,000 foot rockface. Other expletives. NEIL was not very popular. Someone abseiled from an invisible platform.
The path rose gently up the valley beneath the pines. Sweat rolled off Pete, even though PHIL WAS CARRYING THE ROPE. After about 1 ½ miles the path divides (1,932 metres), one along the valley to the Refuge du Sele, the other straight up. What seemed like 87 lacets (French for zig zags) and 1 hour 40 minutes later, a huge cairn appeared. The Poldu (sic) hut (2,704 metres) is cunningly set back and not visible until the last moment. Plan B* looked doomed to failure – La Cabine de Mont Pelvoux was EMPTY.
Alors, the hut lady was very friendly – if a little fat – and produced ‘eau chaude’ and ‘potage’. Later two guides arrived with their clients – one was to climb Pic sans Nom, which initially follows the same route that we were destined to follow. Phil, lapsing into fluent vernacular, chatted up, first the lady client and then the guide and was HORRIFIED to hear about the DESPERATE long way up Pelvoux with abseils and large crevasses, until he realised the guide was talking about the TRAVERSE of Pelvoux. However, the Couloir Coolidge was not recommended – tres dangereux – better go by the Rochers Rouge.
‘Right, we’ll give it our BEST SHOT’, said Ray and we walked outside behind the hut to reconnoitre the start. The path ran for 50 metres to the base of a grade 2 rock scramble up a cliff. Should be fun in the dark. Clouds were covering the peaks as dusk turned into night.
That night Ray wrote in the hut book, ‘This is a nice hut’.
Time for bed – just seven of us in the dorm. ‘Thank God Ken O’Connor is not here’, and other prayers for success on the morrow. Instead of Ken, God sent his second best SHOT, a THUNDER STORM to keep us awake. The rain lashed down, HOPE OF SUCCESS WAS EBBING – ZZ ZZ Z ZZ……
‘Bonjour, il est quatre heures!’
‘Merci Madamme’, a dit Pierre
‘Phoque off’, replique Phillipe et Ray.
The guides and clients got up. ‘Jasus d’ey’re goin on de hill.’
‘Go and see what the sky looks like Pete.’
Peter returns – ‘A bit cloudy, some stars. You go Phil, see what you think.’
‘Sod it’ etc. Yes there was a chance, anyway we had PAID IN ADVANCE for morning tea water. That was the decider.
There followed a leisurely breakfast. The guides left well ahead of us. 5.20am found our heros blundering up the ROCK BAND to the path above. Two sets of lights away to the left gave us a rough idea of the route. Our faint path led us to the moraine below the Glacier du Clot de l’Homme where we were confronted by huge SERAC blocks. Luckily, we could not see where they came from. Beyond, a traverse left over broken rock led to a STEEP ICE SLOPE. So crampons on. What we took for a path across was just a dark band of the ice – we crossed the ice onto broken slabs, but obviously off route and too high. Crampons off. Route found, round a rock bluff and up loose scree and rock ledges to moraine by the Glacier de Sialouze. Dawn approached – she told us that we had passed the Rochers Rouge, but high up on the right ran the COULIOR COOLIDGE, under six inches of new snow.
Ray was carrying the rope now, so Phil was well ahead. Pete had taken an original route on the ice, which put him in third place. We’d passed the rocks SO THE COULOIR IT WOULD HAVE TO BE. Crampons on…….two hours later, having crossed the bergschrund via a rock ice scramble, and with mutinous mutterings from Ray below, Phil announced that he reached the col and the upper glacier. JUBILATION and A REST. NOTHING COULD STOP US NOW. (Is that a pop song?)
The Glacier de Pelvoux was nothing like so steep as the coulior. At first on the ridge, and then with the ridge a gauche, and roped up, we simply followed the edge of the glacier until we reached the SUMMIT
The drop on the left was horrendous. We solemnly toasted ‘ABSENT FRIENDS’. ‘This is a nice mountain’ said Ray. He decided that he would write that in the hut book when he got down – if we got down! Will Ray, Phil and Peter GET DOWN – Stay tuned for Part 2 of this gripping narrative.
Commercial break ‘I bet they drink Carling Black Label!’
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| Ray Withnall in his climbing days |
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| Pete Griffies with Alpenstock and Peels Arms sweater |
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