THE BIG LITTLE EXPEDITION

RICK HOARE

IF you were standing next to me and you felt like looking up, you would see Paul A about 30 ft. higher, No, that’s not strictly correct, what you would see is Paul’s old cagoule, Rog’s sit-harness made from a car seat belt, Tony’s peg hammer swinging in the wind, Mike’s metal etriers and Carl’s rope. About the only thing new with Paul are his boots. If you look carefully, you can see that the yellow vibram sticker is still quite distinct. That just about sums us up – a mixture of old equipment bought for a different climate and a bit of new gear.

Now look below you.

Impressive, isn’t it? No, it’s not as much as that; it’s only about 600 ft. to the hanging glacier. Over there you can see the box tent, a tiny orange rectangle near the foot of the rock. It looks pretty good from here, doesn’t it? Christ, who’d have thought that cubic horror, full of rime on the ceiling and spindrift on the floor, could look good? But it does; home sweet freezing home.

A rumble behind makes me turn around – here comes .html one. I look up; yea, Paul’s seen it too because he’s bracing himself with both hands. A minute later it’s quieter again and we start retrieving the vertical. The snow that’s falling is wet, so it doesn’t drift down the face – it makes life a little more pleasant. If only my feet would thaw out a bit. How are yours? Hmm, well despite what the old timers did, I think you’d be bloody daft to take them off. Better just kick the rock, Not too hard though, you can never tell with these pegs.

Well, I suppose you are saying to yourself that I don’t have to be hanging in ladders half way up the Sword in Patagonia if I don’t want to be, and I guess you’re right. But despite that, it’s a pretty good feeling, Paul F and Mike had two days’ siege on it, then Tony and Rog, and now it’s Paul A’s and my turn. The traditional wind is blowing and the traditional snow is falling, but the rock is granite, the cracks sharp, and the view mind-blasting. Three days to establish the high camp (the slabs needed quite a bit of fixed rope) and now it’s the big time. I wouldn’t like to grade the route – in good weather we could have climbed more of it free. As it was, it was about half-half, with free pitches never above V.S. Who wants to be a dead tiger? The rest was cold A2.

"Suddenly last summer" told you all about the area – across the valley, looking straight into the wind, you can see the Cathedral. To the left is the Fortress; behind, the Paine Grande. We’re in good company. The Paine Towers will be visible when we reach the summit ridge. In the meanwhile, there’s some climbing to be done. Paul’s finished the pitch and we’re trying to work out which rope I’m going to prussik up. No, not the blue, it’s all fluffy. That’s the trouble, you see; all the fixed ropes are old 9 mm, kernmantles which friends have given us. What friend ever gave you a recent rope? But short of the M.E.F. or R.G.S., who’s got the money for 3,000 ft. of line? So we use old 9 mm. Who says God is dead? He’s alive and looking after climbers in Patagonia.

I’d better tell you about the North Horn as well – L.G.P, of the valley, we all thought. The Czechs hadn’t even got off the ground in ’68 they said. I’m not surprised, they were using pegs made from railway line, judging from what we found. They must have spent most of their time trying to prevent their high camp from being blown away. We weren’t so lucky. What sort of wind breaks eight polypropylene guy lines and removes without trace a box tent with 100 lb. of rock ballast in it? Like I said, God is alive...

The North Horn. Only took us five days (two-and-a-half days of climbing really) as against eight on the Sword. But good rock, and a fantastic finishing pitch. Trouble was Mike only had three bongs wide enough for it. But we all got up, same as the Sword, except here we were all together as one big happy circus, The days are long. 6 a.m, till 11 p.m., so 7 p.m. is still early to reach the top. It gave us time to strip the route as we did on the Sword. Only this time, we even swopped the abseil pegs for soft metal ones. Total cost: £2.40 for 1,000 ft of V.S. and A2.

Just as well we saved the ropes. The river came down in flood and it took two days to cross 50 yards of water and tumbling ice blocks. If we’d had the whisky to go with it... but it was a bit late for New Year anyway.

That’s about all there was to it, besides a third of a route (1,450 ft) up the east face of the Central Tower of Paine, and no food, and Tony being blown through the air with his pack on. There’s plenty more still waiting to be done – the Mummer, the east face of the Cathedral (a fantastic line), not to mention Kamikazi Face on the east side of the Paine Grande. All you need are three avalanche buckets, two months and a big little expedition.