all the rope.
As a result of these incidents the climbers were in danger of running out of daylight. When they finally reached the summit, Phyl and her rope companions only had a few minutes in which to savour their accomplishment before Kain lead them down and off the cornice to allow the second rope party (which included Don) to have their own brief moments at the top.
Phyl descended the steep and brittle mountain face. The climbers were single-file, the rope joining them for safety. Every movement was like hugging the edge of a swords blade, and a single misjudged step could put a companion in jeopardy. They passed the slight widening where the next four in their party awaited their return.
Now Don and the others would ascend. Phyl beamed at Don, who grinned back at her, and then she carried on with the other three climbers on her rope. On they trekked, sliding across the big, broken glacier, then traversing the edges of the crevasses – those great gaping cracks in the glacier that were too wide to jump across and often as deep as the glacier itself. Reckoning that the path of their ascent could also guide their descent, the climbing party intended to trace their earlier tracks. But soon they found it impossible. While they were higher up on Mount Robson, a snow avalanche – a constant phenomenon at these altitudes – had rolled across the mountain face below and had obliterated any trace of their footprints. Forced now to make their own way, they knew the descent would take more time than they had anticipated.
Following as best they could the landmarks remembered from the afternoon, the four continued on. They arrived at the ice wall – the edge of the glacier. On the ascent, Kain had spent considerable time and energy cutting steps into the wall so the party could climb up onto the glacier and continue towards the summit. To do this he first made a handhold in the ice and then, while holding fast, he swung his ice axe with the other hand, slashed at the surface to make a step, then used that step to stand on. He then made another hand hold, pulled himself up, and slashed away at the ice to make the next step. It was backbreaking and painfully slow work, but there was no alternative. The steps he fashioned in a zigzag as this pattern was safer than a straight vertical climb. Ropes linking each climber to the other provided some measure of safety on the ascent. The same would be true as they used the steps for their descent.
But without the benefit of the tracks of their ascent, finding the steps would be a challenge. As she looked around, matching landmarks to memory, Phyl walked a little off in one direction. This feels like it. Only one way to find out, she thought. “Conrad, let me check this place. It fits with my remembrance.” The other two came closer and they prepared to take the weight of Phyl’s body with the rope. “All right,” said the Austrian, as he dug his ice axe into the glacier. If she was wrong, they would have a blind search along the ice wall until they found it, and that would take up more of the precious daylight.
“This is it, I’m sure, Conrad. If you can support me with the rope, I’ll see.” Phyl turned with a twist and lowered herself slowly over the edge to feel for the first foothold. Linked by rope to their guide – who was now firmly planted to anchor the rope and prepared to support her weight – she suspended her lower half over the glacier’s edge, tentatively at first, feeling a bit like a spider floating out on its silken thread, wavering on the edge of nothingness. Then she connected.
“There it is.” The first step found. It was not such an easy task, blindly groping for the footholds at the glacier-edge, but she recalled their pattern and regularity and was soon down. The others followed, including Don’s party, who had finally caught up to Phyl’s. They were now off the upper glacier and on the moraine alongside. Here it was steep going but the ropes were not necessary, so they unroped and started down the rocks, carefully springing from one to the other, in hope that they could make quicker time on solid land. As the dusk settled in, it became slow work and not easy to keep the group together. Smoke from a brush fire somewhere far below on the mountain slopes drifted up to them in the twilight. The acrid smoke stung their eyes and complicated the visibility. Smoke was not what they needed. It was hard enough to see in the twilight. Off to the west, a gathering thunderstorm further obscured their vision. Distant thunder rumbled. Darkness approached rapidly.
“It’s just too hard to see on the rocks in this light.” Conrad declared as he held up his hands to signal a halt. I agree, thought Phyl. If one person twists an ankle or even worse, breaks a leg, the group will be in jeopardy. “We will have to remount the ice and hope that once out of the glacier shadow, we will be able to take advantage of all the remaining light.”
While Phyl, Don, and the others reharnessed their ropes, Kain went on ahead. Once more he cut steps into the glacier edge. Soon he was back, and they all climbed up onto the lower glacier. Because the dwindling light reflected off the snow and ice, travelling on top of this glacier proved less difficult than fumbling around on the dark rocks. Here they could see the way forward. On they continued, walking as fast as they safely could.
The time was just after 10 p.m. Five hours since Phyl stood on the summit and over nineteen hours since they began the climb from high-camp, and they were still far up the mountain. It was now obvious there was no way they would make it back to high-camp this night.
Now, only part way in their descent, they must stop to rest, but they could only do so in a safer place. The glacier face was too exposed. They needed to get to the shelter of the rocks below it and to a lower elevation. There was no easy route. Phyl, Don, and their companions looked around to locate the best way, but it was slow work as the angles of the ice could no longer be judged with any accuracy. Every move was tenuous. The light was almost spent, and all around them they heard the grunting and vibration of the ice pack. It was not pleasant there in the darkness on the glacier. Finally their guide made a decision.
“I’ve found a spot. It’s a bit tricky, but we don’t have any other options. We will have to cross a six-inch-wide ice bridge. A couple of steps farther and then we jump up – I know it is a blind jump, but trust me – onto an ice ledge where I have cut a foothold. From there, you will see the rock ledge below, and that is where we will spend the night.”
By 10:30 all eight of them were on the rock ledge. As she inched the thirty-five-kilogram pack off her shoulders and then sank to her knees on the stony ground, Phyl let out a sigh. “Oh,” she murmured and turned over so she sat leaning up against her pack. “Who would have thought that it would feel so wonderful just to stop moving forward!” Don joined her. “What we need now is some food. Do you realize that it is almost twenty-four hours since we ate breakfast?”
“Yes,” Phyl replied. “Eating was the last thing I thought of, although I did manage a small handful of iron rations just before that final push to the top. Those raisins and nuts gave me something to chew on, although I confess I don’t actually remember eating them, my mind was so intent on the climb. It’s amazing what the human body can do.” And then she added, “I carried a treat with me today for us to celebrate our climb.” She opened the canvas flap on one side of her pack and pulled out a bundle.
“Oh, I might have known it,” laughed Don, pointing and calling to Conrad and the others. “Look what Phyl smuggled up to the summit of Robson.” With a smile of glee, Phyl held up her treasure. It was a small can of pineapple. “There is enough for everyone to share,” she said. “It’s a special treat to go with the rest of our food.” Everyone cheered. Now that they had stopped, the climbers began to relax. Hands dug into packs to bring out small stashes of food, and they all shared.
They were at an elevation of 3200 metres above sea level. Clouds hung low all around them on the glacier and on the shoulders and cliffs of the mountain. The night grew bitter and the cool glacier breeze insured that no one could keep very warm at all, but they were thankful it neither rained nor snowed. They huddled together and tried to sleep. Sleep came only in snatches because the mountain noises and their precarious position ensured they could never fully relax. Rolling echoes reverberated as falling ice crashed down from the
