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Great Alpine moments - Ruined!

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 Goucho 04 Feb 2015

Following on from the Eiger thread on here - usually the exact opposite of great Alpine moments - have you ever had what should have been that perfect Alpine moment - like something out of a Gaston Rebuffatt coffee table book - completely ruined either by the unexpected, your partner suddenly being an arse, or something else?

One of my old climbing partners was known for liking a bargain - I'll refrain from any Yorkshire stereotypes, but if the cap fits? Getting money out of his pocket usually required a spanner and at least two other people to hold him down.

Anyway, rumour on the grapevine indicated that the North Face of the Charmoz was 'in' - not that common. So we decided to see if it was true, as we'd always wanted to do it.

I left him to sort out the food, whilst I went off to replace some gear we'd had to leave behind on the previous route. He came back later grinning from ear to ear having got a seriously good bargain at the Supermarche, clutching four cans of stew - we weren't especially adventurous when it came to mountain cuisine.

Most of the labels were torn, but there did appear to be a picture of pieces of meat on them.

So the following day off we went. The route was in, and we had a wonderful day climbing on perfect ice and neve under a crisp blue sky. Eventually we reached a perfect bivi spot below the col, and settled down.

Primus humming and brew on, I opened the first tin of 'stew' hungry and with eager anticipation. The minute I lifted the lid off, I realised why he'd got such a bargain - it was dog food!

So as a magnificent sunset rounded off a perfect day, bathing the stunning vista of the Verte and the Dru in a warm rich orange glow, we sat and watched it, eating the French equivalent of f*cking Chappie!
Post edited at 13:04
 Bob 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

Like!

On the Walker Spur, we've been going all day and get to the bivvy (somewhere just above the Tour Grise). Having settled down, it's time for a brew, unfortunately my partner has lost the control key/spanner for the stove We sat there and ate everything that didn't require cooking.
 AdamCB 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:
Haha love it. Reminds me of when I was a student, for some reason my flatmate's mother sent him a cardboard box full of dried and tinned food, including a couple of tins of pedigree chum. One evening we idly swapped the labels with the beef stew for a laugh and thought no more about it. A few nights later a former resident who had since moved out into a poky bedsit dropped in after a heavy night at the pub and decided to help himself to the contents of the cardboard box. You can imagine our delight when he picked the beef stew and proceeded to fry it up...
Post edited at 15:42
 pneame 04 Feb 2015
pasbury 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:
Sitting on the glacier under the Cengalo in the Bregaglia after doing the flatiron, all relaxed and chuffed when out of nowhere a block of ice the size of a mini rolled by quite slowly and silently within a few feet of us - the effect was rather menacing.

It was as if the mountain was saying 'ha, I can still kill you no problem'.
Post edited at 16:11
 pneame 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:
> So as a magnificent sunset rounded off a perfect day, bathing the stunning vista of the Verte and the Dru in a warm rich orange glow, we sat and watched it, eating the French equivalent of f*cking Chappie!

I wonder whether we ran into the same stuff... a skiing partner of mine also acquired some "bargain stew meat". On cooking it into some spag. bol. at Le Refuge de les Amis du Montaine, we realised it wasn't too good. A couple of French guys were there with a rather fine alsation. "Le Chien... il mange....?" gesturing at our food. After a bit more discussion they felt that the dog might like it. So we put it on the floor. The dog sniffs.
And walks away.
Of course, it may have just reflected our cooking skills.
We ate out every night that week.

 Mr Lopez 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

> So as a magnificent sunset rounded off a perfect day, bathing the stunning vista of the Verte and the Dru in a warm rich orange glow, we sat and watched it. eating the French equivalent of f*cking Chappie!

Ha, ha. Priceless.

A few years ago i went with Walts4 of this parish to climb the Freney pillar. Everything went as good as it possibly could. Climbed in good time and perfect conditions in an astonishing route.

Enjoying every pitch and the ambiance of the face, we topped the pillar with plenty light to spare, and when climbing the easier mixed ground above nature called me. I say to Pete. "Mate, i'll just traverse round the corner and have a quick dump. I'll be a few minutes"

So there i was, squatting down in the best toilet you could think of. High up Mont Blanc, the World at my feet, the views unbroken down to the glacier, the valley forests, Grand Paradiso and Italy beyond. All the hard climbing done and a big route that had been in my mind for years was now 100% in the bag. Nothing could spoil this moment.

But then i hear a chopper somewhere in the valley. And now, "Oh, there it is! It's the mountain rescue heli. Mmmmhhh... It's kind of coming this way. I wonder where is heading?". Chopper flies past me, and as soon as it's about to clear me they must have noticed my bright orange jacket and comes to a sudden stop in front of me. "Oh no. Don't... don't!!!", but Yes.

It turns 90 degrees and slowly starts approaching me, and now i'm there, squatting with my pants down, staring right in the eyes of a pilot and his co-pilot hovering 50 feet in front of me.

Not sure who was more confused at this point. Whether the S&R guys finding somebody seemingly alone at the top of the Freney face having a shit, or me being caught ball's out while having a personal moment. Only one thing to do in this situation. I slowly raised an arm while extending the other to give the "I'm ok, i don't need rescuing signal", and the helicopter shoot off to do whatever they going to do probably with everyone inside laughing and shaking their heads...
Post edited at 18:02
OP Goucho 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Mr Lopez:
Always pays to stay classy

I'm sure there's a whole new thread waiting to be started on most embarrassing/precarious dumps!
Post edited at 18:54
1
 Mike C 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

In case your planned thread doesn't materialize, I was going to post this anyway.
1979, my first trip to Chamonix, and my second route. I'd bumped into an itinerant Mancunian by the name of Dave Johnson, who was travelling through France on a Honda Goldwing. We somehow agreed to head up to Aig d'Argentiere & do the ESE Ridge. After a bivi on the start of the ridge we started off to find ourselves behind a group of E European climbers knocking loads of rocks off behind them.
A decision was made to drop off the ridge to the right, rather than follow then through rock towers. This put us in a position of traversing the top of the eastern side of the North Face. Several hours & seven pitches later saw us back onto the ridge, by which time my gut was desperate to "bust". We summited & did a quick turnaround down the Milieu Glacier. I raced on ahead & as soon as the angle relented tore off my harness, dug a hole in the snow, & let go.......
Dave then arrived & asked me the difference between an egg & a good shit?
You can beat an egg..........
OP Goucho 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Mike C:

> 1979, my first trip to Chamonix, and my second route. I'd bumped into an itinerant Mancunian by the name of Dave Johnson, who was travelling through France on a Honda Goldwing.

That wasn't Dave 'Spider Bowels' Johnson from Davyhulme by any chance was it? Sort of shortish and squat with fair hair?
 Timmd 04 Feb 2015
In reply to pasbury:
> Sitting on the glacier under the Cengalo in the Bregaglia after doing the flatiron, all relaxed and chuffed when out of nowhere a block of ice the size of a mini rolled by quite slowly and silently within a few feet of us - the effect was rather menacing.

> It was as if the mountain was saying 'ha, I can still kill you no problem'.

It seems that the Alps and mountain regions are almost forever shifting and changing, that one needs to keep an eye open.
Post edited at 20:44
 Mike C 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

Short & squat for sure. Knew a few folk like Nick Colton (black Nick) & RBJ. Lost contact with him soon after. You know him?
There's a couple of probably unrecognizable pics of him in my gallery.
 Mick Ward 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

> ...been that perfect Alpine moment - like something out of a Gaston Rebuffatt coffee table book...

Hmm... can't relate to any of that. But dog food? I can relate to that.

We landed in Cham in '75. But it was OK. We were still culturally in Yorkshire. And, just to make sure, there was a convenient signpost, 'Almscliff - 2 3/4 miles.'

We were sat in the Nash when Mick Hillas staggered back from the supermarket with loads of bottles.Chortling. "F*cking great! This pop's dead cheap." A swift glance at the aforesaid pop confirmed my guess. "It's dead cheap, Mick, cos it's not pop - it's water." "Watter!!! Don't give me that bollox. It's in a bottle." (You couldn't get bottled water in blighty back then.) "Well taste it yourself." And he did. "Watter! F*cking bastard watter!" Etc, etc, etc.

Well far be it from me to titter - of course I did. But when my mate Steve (well, no, actually he wasn't a mate at at all, we never got on) bought loads of 'dead cheap' chocolate at the same supermarket, the old red alert should have pinged. Turned out it was laxative chocolate. The trek back up to Plan de L'Aiguille left the forest littered with piles of shit.

And it didn't stop there. Even though we'd slung the chocolate, it didn't stop the shit. For the umpteenth time, I legged it from the tent and raced behind a now familiar boulder to void... Only to look up in horror at a couple of dozen hikers heading straight towards me. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run. I could only squat and shit and shit and shit. I wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

The leader of the hikers looked up. His eyes met mine. There was a snort of Teutonic disgust, an "Ach!" He turned. Like some bloody conga, they all looked up, met my eyes, turned. And thankfully they all sodded off.

Naturally I never told Hillas. He'd have pissed himself laughing.

Dog food. Water, not pop. Laxative chocolate. Alpine provisions can be a vexed affair.

Mick



 Mick Ward 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

> I'm sure there's a whole new thread waiting to be started on most embarrassing/precarious dumps!

Woops, seem to have landed prematurely on the new thread. Typical!

Mick
OP Goucho 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Mike C:
> Short & squat for sure. Knew a few folk like Nick Colton (black Nick) & RBJ. Lost contact with him soon after. You know him?

> There's a couple of probably unrecognizable pics of him in my gallery.

Only met him a couple of times around Stoney in the 70's - always used to wear a dirty red javelin jacket, and called everybody 'spider bowels' for some strange reason?

But I remember that bloody bike.

I made the mistake of accepting a lift from Stoney Cafe to High Tor once. He was a fecking maniac on it. It had those helmets with built in mic's etc, and all I could hear as my life repeatedly flashed before me, was him laughing and repeatedly shouting 'spider bowels' as he went through Bakewell at over a ton!!

I should have spotted something was wrong when both Dave (Knighton) and Jim (Moran) declined his offer - two people who were usually only to happy to grab a free ride!
Post edited at 21:10
 Mick Ward 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Mike C:

> Short & squat for sure. Knew a few folk like Nick Colton (black Nick) & RBJ. Lost contact with him soon after. You know him?

Black Nick's still going strong. Nearly gave RBJ a Glasgow kiss in the main street of Cham. He was begging for it. But he didn't lean down quite far enough. (I'm also short and squat.) And, to his credit, he swiftly sobered up and started to behave himself.

'Come back. Come back friends. Top out.' Cosmic wisdom. RIP.

Mick

 Mike C 04 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

Never heard the spider bowels bit, but we had some good craic going on. After I felt a bit "relieved", we had to cross a small snow bridge late in the day at the bottom of the Milieu. I erred away from the deep drop on the left, which resulted in it collapsing, dropping me about 12 feet down on the right. Dave then had to jump, 12 ft was a long way for him!

I remember he was scared of dropping the bike as he'd probably never get it back up again. After Cham he headed off for the South of France.

Mick, it's a small world!

M.
 Graham 05 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

I was in Cham a few years ago with a friend and he invited a random guy to come climb with us. I had just led the direct start to Supercouloir (all rock at that time and I had to break it up into a few pitches - was hard for me) and all that lay ahead of us was the couloir proper and it looked glorious. This random guy decided that he didn't actually want to climb that day after all and made us bail. I'd flown all the way around the world to do that route... and I didn't get another chance that trip.
 ScraggyGoat 05 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:
Not really an alpine moment, and carrying on the theme of climbing 'movements', my partner and I decided to do Eagles Ridge, Lochnagar as a quick 'hit' after work one mid-summer. My partner ran me ragged up the hill (shes a hill runner), and suddenly while belaying her the cramps started for no good reason, increasing in intensity. I desparetly tied her off and escaped the system as quickly as possible, to hang off the belay slings pointing the now imminent volcanic eruption into parrallel A. The deed done I used my shreddies to clean up and must admit to casting them into the gully.....................I'm now haunted by thoughts of some early season winter ascentionist lifting thier axe to find they got more with thier last placement than they bargained for. That would certainly take the shine off a route, trying to get a pair of dreaded unmentionables off your pick mid pitch!

and that shit meant we didnt complete the route in the under two hours I hoped for.
Post edited at 22:46
OP Goucho 06 Feb 2015
In reply to ScraggyGoat:
It's looking like there really is a need for a thread on 'Extreme Dumps'
Post edited at 20:28
"We were sat in the Nash when Mick Hillas staggered back from the supermarket with loads of bottles.Chortling. "F*cking great! This pop's dead cheap." A swift glance at the aforesaid pop confirmed my guess. "It's dead cheap, Mick, cos it's not pop - it's water." "Watter!!! Don't give me that bollox. It's in a bottle." (You couldn't get bottled water in blighty back then.) "Well taste it yourself." And he did. "Watter! F*cking bastard watter!" Etc, etc, etc."

Funny as ...
 Bob 06 Feb 2015
In reply to Colin Henderson:

Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long while. Got very, very drunk one New Year's Eve in Aviemore with Mick Hillas and the rest of the Yorkshire crowd.
 jonesieboy 07 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

At a rocky spot on the border ridge above the Vallot hut on Mont Blanc, my mate Pat succumbed to the runs. He was trousers-down when a French guide came past with his female client. I apologised in French. He shrugged his shoulders and said "just make sure you shit into Italy".
 Rick Graham 07 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:

3 am topping out on the Bonatti Gobbi at the top of the Peuterey Ridge. Rested at the top of the GPA to let the slush freeze. Romped up perfect neve buckets on the ridge on a still full moonlit night.

Traversing MB de C with a typical British 30 metres loop of slack sliding over pristine neve.

The rock snags. Why? Both of us sit down ( maybe a bit tired ) and try to flick the rope off the obstruction.

I lose the battle of wills and walk down to release the rope.

Hooked round an effing frozen turd.
OP Goucho 07 Feb 2015
In reply to Rick Graham:

> 3 am topping out on the Bonatti Gobbi

That must have been some interesting night climbing? The section from the top of the ridge to MBC and then MB must have been stunning on good neve under moonlight?

Didn't find it that technical, but remember a lot of lose rock (especially in the chimneys, and no escape if anything fell down from above - big brown trouser risk!), but combined with the approach and then finish up the (seemingly never ending) Peuterey, it's certainly a long and very tiring route. Rephrase that, I was completely f*cked afterwards.

> Hooked round an effing frozen turd.

More indications that a 'dump' thread is required?
 Rick Graham 07 Feb 2015
In reply to Goucho:
> That must have been some interesting night climbing? The section from the top of the ridge to MBC and then MB must have been stunning on good neve under moonlight?

No and yes.

Set off at 1 am from the Trident hut. Got to the start surprisingly quickly so rested up and set off at first light.
Top of GPA about 8 pm. Rested up and waited for it to freeze.
Less than 2 hours for the Peuterey ridge bit under ideal conditions.
Andy did it again the year after during daylight and realised what the fuss was about.

Main problem with the route was we had over estimated how long it would take so had too much food. We solved that with a brunch about 11am. Young legs , where did they go?
Post edited at 20:58

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