In reply to jon:
> Indeed. I was on my way up to the Kleine Matterhorn one morning in a crowded téléphérique when the American gentlemen next to me, after removing my ice axe from his thigh
> Easy mistake to make.
Americans in the mountains - who could not love them?
I recall sitting outside (IIRC) the Couvercle hut, in a brief respite in a period of miserable weather that actually allowed us to go outside the hut, listening to an loud and very obvious American denounce the Alps as a miserable heap of rubble, topped by damp, dripping clouds that hid the summits and never shifted, which indeed, the dismal scene before us at that moment seemed to confirm. But gradually the clearance extended and the North face of the Grande Jorasses revealed itself in all its imposing and menacing glory.
.. "Aw gee" said our self-effacing trans-Atlantic visitor "whats that?"
.. "Its the North face of the Grande Jorasses" said someone.
Our American visitor, used to highly regulated, wardened, carefully controlled National parks in the land of the free and the wild, then asked :
.. "That's amazing. What permits do you need to climb that?"
From the back of the group, a strongly accented Northern English voice piped up, redolent of scorn and derision for so ludicrous a question :
.. "Permits lad? Tha puts on thy boots and goes!"
American (astounded by the wildly anarchic idea that in a wilderness, you just take your own decisions and risks rather than being protected from your own folly by G men and benevolent autocrats) :
.. "But suppose you're not good enough?"
(The Jorasses really did look menacing at this moment)
Northener (now more in pity than contempt, as one would address a backward, but still enthusiastic child, when it is necessary to explain the most obvious and elementary of facts) :
.. "Then tha dies lad!"