Read Online Conquistadors of the Useless by Geoffrey Sutton Lionel Terray David Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

the mountains or our desire for the great climbs. No sooner were the results published than Gaston wanted to drag me off to the famous north-west face of the Olan. It would make us A.W.O.L., but provided we accepted this and the punishment which would ensue on our return to our centres, we had the chance of doing the climb. Rébuffat’s proposition was extremely tempting, and I wasn’t very worried about the J.M. brand of punishment, which consisted of making us carry an eighty-pound sack of stones for twenty or thirty kilometres. But I was not yet ripe for climbs of this class, and had been over-impressed by the tale of the first ascent. Discretion won the day and I declined the offer.
    Passing through Grenoble on the way back to Beaufort the temptations of civilised life were too strong, and we decided to stop over for twenty-four hours to get a bit of rest and Christian nourishment. After a copious meal and a good night we were once more bursting with energy and enthusiasm. Despite the prospect of stone carrying we put off our departure for Beaufort for another day, not for the sake of the flesh-pots, but in order to climb the Dent Gerard on the Trois Pucelles. We thought of starting up the Grange gully and then seeing if we could find a more interesting route. Now that I had become a climber of some experience the Grange gully seemed so easy that I couldn’t understand how I had almost met my end there. By contrast, however, the difficult new variation that we put up that day on the wall between the Dalloz crack and the Sandwich chimney was a real initiation for me into certain forms of artificial climbing, which I had never tried till then. [4]
    Gaston got a long way up by the use of a good many pitons, but was then stopped by an overhang. He tried several times to climb it free but without success. I then had a try at it and greatly to my surprise got up, despite an annoying trembling of the limbs. New horizons began to open up from that moment.
    We got back to Beaufort forty-eight hours late, to be greeted by Testo Ferry, the commandant of the centre, in unexpected fashion. This still-young man, who had distinguished himself by his courage in aerial combat, had a taste for dash and achievement. It was obvious that we appealed to him. With a twinkling eye and a suspicion of a smile at the corners of his lips, he told us off approximately as follows:
    â€˜In the first place I have to congratulate you on your brilliant placings on the course you have just completed. It is thanks to men of your stamp that we are going to build a brave new France. As commandant of the Paturaud-Mirand Centre I am proud of you. But I regret that you have been awaited for two days now in Chamonix, where you are to join a climbing troop. Your late return has considerably hindered the proper functioning of the course, which is already in progress. In order not to prolong this situation you are to leave for Chamonix in a few minutes’ time, but in view of the fact that it would be a deplorable example to leave unpunished the grave breach of discipline of which you have been guilty, I have no choice but to be strict with you. Your penalty is to have your heads shaved – and I mean a complete tonsure. Given the urgency of the situation it will be impossible to inflict this punishment before your departure. I therefore order you to go to a barber’s shop either on the way through Annecy or on your arrival at Chamonix. I need hardly add that if these orders are not carried out I shall be obliged to punish you more severely.’
    Far from plunging me into consternation this speech, subtly larded with the formality of the time and with a certain humour, raised me to heights of joy. Nothing could have delighted me more at that moment than to set off for my beloved range of Mont Blanc. As for my hair, to have it cut off was more of an advantage than a punishment for me. Although I was just twenty it had already started to