Free naked roulette
Hours later, with the storm undoubtedly upon us, I was way colder than before, and I cracked.
Throwing the dice, I packed my frozen gear and left the Russians. At the bottom of the rappels I rationalized that it was the coldest part of the day, and the ice bridges were as frozen as they would be.
This couloir was attempted in 1970 by Argentines, who joined the 1967 California route but did not reach the summit.
It has been attempted many times and is named after one of the people who died on the route, Pippo Frasson Couloir.
Melting water flows between the ice and rock, and every minute or two I am showered with blasts of graupel.
I sink my tools and hang straight-armed until things stop falling and calmly tack my way up the impermanent flow.
The haunting image of my single etrier sailing away in the wind of the brewing storm, before Maestri’s endless bolts, recycled through my mind’s eye.
The Russians had planned to be halfway up the route, leaving me their bivy gear, so I could wait and descend the glacier with them safely.
I clear my mind of every distraction and open my soul to the energies of the mountains.
I need to be sure of what I’m seeking by entering the world of solo alpine climbing.
I started walking, and within a few steps my right leg plunged into an airy hole, as I struggled not to go in.
Totally tuned to all of my senses, I moved deliberately across the glacier.