Eventually after five or six days there is a small break in the weather. In reality the weather is no better than on our first attempt, but we have been tent bound for so long that we are eager at the chance to be mobile. So we gear up for attempt number two. The bergschrund is much more difficult to cross this time around, but with some finagling we manage it. Now however we find that the conditions on the face are vastly different from what they were. The weather has been so mild that the base layer is very soft and mushy, with a considerable amount of wet snow on top. We head up for a bit, but soon come to the realization that not only is this exhausting work, but exceptionally dangerous as well. Once again, we must abandon our attempt on this beautiful and well-guarded mountain.
Back in the tent again. This time we do a lot of soul searching and philosophizing. We still have some food and some time and of course we all still want the summit. The conditions are against us however. Doug wants it so bad at one point he is talking about trying a solo attempt if conditions improve and if and when Scott and I have to leave to return to our jobs. This is a serious mountain, and although I have always respected Doug’s experience and ability, I want to make sure he realizes the implications and consequences of such a decision. He has been such a friend for so long, that I want him to remain so for years to come. Scott on the other hand in his youthful exuberance and relative inexperience is still maybe wondering why we aren’t climbing it now in its current condition. Only after many anguishing hours of discussion, debate and at times almost tearful reflection do we come to a consensus. Although I knew Scott and Doug both very well, I think that we learned more about each other that day, than in the many years combined. To this day I still cannot recall clearly the exact details of the logic behind our decision, but we agreed that we should pack up and leave.
The following day the weather was still marginal so we used it to scout a route through the icefall of the upper glacier. From as far as we got it looked as if we had a clear shot to the lower glacier. The rest of the day we spent organizing our gear and securing a food cache for future climbers. Very late in the day we spy two figures approaching from the rock rib that skirts and joins the upper and lower glaciers. It turns out to be two Welsh climbers attempting a lightweight assault on the peak. They had come in on foot from the highway, so there was of course some good natured ribbing from them about our helicopter approach. These guys were very fit and competent climbers who had just come from an aborted attempt on Mt. Fairweather.
We prepared some hot chocolate for them as they were setting up their bivi in the shelter of our snow wall. We shared with them our experience on the mountain. Even though we thought the face was in poor condition they were going to give it a try the next day. They even offered for any or all of us to join them on their attempt. Jolly good blokes they were. Upon hearing of our proposed descent route they were able to inform us that it was no good, as they had tried it as an ascent route to no avail, as the way was blocked by several huge crevasses that could not be negotiated.
The next morning continued to have unsettled weather but Dave and Richard were still going to give it a go. At least the entire face was below the clouds today so we could see their progress as we broke camp. Our packs are still heavy and cumbersome and we begin the march out. We see now that our new friends have turned back prior to our highpoint on the face. They make good time on their descent and catch us up on the ridge. They at least were able to confirm and validate our appraisal of the face and also thought it too slow and dangerous to continue. This I suppose gave us some small solace. With only bivi gear, and minimal food, plus a narrow time window to catch their flights back to England, they only had the one shot. We agreed that we would meet up with them at their tent on the lower glacier.
The descent was grueling for us. The non-trivial terrain was mixed with steep unconsolidated snow and sections of awkward and loose rock. The large packs contributed to our ungainliness, and we were unable to be as nimble as our less encumbered Welsh friends. We had to rappel in several places and belay in others. All in all we were eating up time at an alarming rate. The weather started to deteriorate again and night was closing in fast. It was in near whiteout conditions and darkness that we finally reached the bottom of the ridge, totally knackered, but relatively safe. Our new dilemma was do we set up a camp here or try to find our friends camp lower down. Actually they made the decision for us. They began calling out to us to guide us down. Their voices were getting closer and soon we saw their headlamps piercing through the darkness and clouds. They have come up to meet us and help us the last little bit down, even carrying Scotts pack for him. Soon we are crawling into our tent next to theirs.
The next day was uneventful except for it being a very long and tiring trip down the low angled glacier. The rope had picked up a tremendous amount of water and was totally saturated and heavy. Later in the day and much lower down we all experienced the same strange sensation; smelling greenery as opposed to the rock and ice of the last week and a half. We were dog tired as we finally stumbled into the Berg Lake chalet. Chalet is a bit of a misnomer, it’s not so much a chalet as it is a large one roomed cabin with a wood stove, and a bunch of tables and benches, and signs about sleeping in the chalet being prohibited. We get a fair number of stares and sideways glances from the hikers using the facility. Some of the bolder ones approach us to ask questions. Even I must admit that we were a pretty gnarly looking crew. We still had way too much food so we started giving it away to some of the hikers. Even though it was warm and cozy in the cabin, and we had fully bellies, we all felt disappointed by what we considered our failure on the mountain. Eventually we drifted off to illegal sleep in the chalet, only to be awakened by the constant scurrying of the various mice and other rodents. Maybe this was the reasons for the no sleeping signs.
Our last day in the wilds was a twenty one kilometer downhill slog in intermittent rain. At about halfway we stopped and took off our boots to soak our weary feet in the icy river. Everybody had a snack and a round of ibuprofen. The remainder of the walk out was in a constant drizzle. I was like a walking automaton, one foot after the other, mechanically trudging as if in a stupor, down the soggy trail. We were totally shagged out by the time we reached the trailhead. Doug was so fed up that he threw out his boots and raingear into the garbage can. All of my old memories of Doug were in that green Synergy Gore-Tex jacket. It was the end of an era. Those Galibier boots of his sure had covered a lot of kilometers as well. Scott conned a ride with some hikers back to Valemount to pick up the car, and was back to get us within the hour. That poor car was loaded before, but now we also had the Welsh climbers and their gear packed in as we made our way to town.
Scott then left for Calgary and from there back to Toronto. It was not the last time I saw Scott, but it was the last time I ever got to climb with him. He was tragically killed in a fall soloing in the Coast Range a couple of months later.
Doug hadn’t been too impressed with his train trip so he opted to take the bus back to Vancouver with me. The Welsh guys were going to hitchhike so they could save their money for lodgings in Vancouver. I talked them into investing their money into the bus fare, with the offer of a free place to stay in Vancouver. Hey… I didn’t mind extending Colin’s hospitality to some climbers in need. The bus trip back was kind of funny. We must have had quite an aroma by now and it was obvious that the other passengers in close proximity to us did not appreciate it. The guy next to me seemed especially put out. We kept yakking throughout the night and the driver had to tell us several times to keep it down. Honestly… some people have no sense of adventure. I think those passengers should have paid extra to hear our tales of this and other exploits. The current tale though ends here.
(Robson-Johnny is a real life mythical climber and mystic possibly of middle-eastern origin, perhaps from what is now called Iran. Not too much is known about him although he was renowned in some circles for his amazing climbing deeds and even more amazing consumption of coffee. Talk of his life and times provided inspiration during the many trying hours on this particular trip.)
