Mt Aspiring
Climbing ropeless up a steep snow and ice face is never enhanced by mental images of your helpless body falling to its death.
High on the vertiginous slopes of Mt Aspiring, the only thing keeping me from this fate were the front points of my crampons and my two ice axes. I was calm and focused, but could do nothing to stop these mental flashes of my flailing body being gobbled up by white oblivion. The face wasn't steep enough to worry an accomplished alpinist, but in the absence of such skill, competence, and general good looks, the 40 to 50 degree-slope was more than enough to unsettle me.
A hard kick of the crampons. A strong strike of the ice axe. After a dozen or so movements, I paused to gather my composure, re-focus, before setting out for another dozen moves.
Why do such images always flash through my head when I'm soloing? Does every climber have to deal with this? Mt Aspiring, New Zealand's
