I choke and stumble forward towards the void trying to keep my balance while taking my first awkward steps through the cave with jelly legs and spiky steel blocks attached to then end of them. As I step into the void, my foot sinks into the snow deeper than ever before and I know I am out there. Another three steps forwards and things become very clear. I am walking on a mountain ridge whose path is a foot width in width and there is a sheer drop of 3800 meters on either side of me. This realisation causes my spikes to grow roots from my feet into the base of the mountain so I spin my waist round, and laser beam Rich for attention. A move along signal with his hand and big grin is insisting I could surely take just ten more steps. 

The air feels sharp and each breath is an explosive blast of air through my nostrils and mouth. The elements have accentuated my senses which feel like they are being resurrected at the scene from a sleep they have for the first time awoken to. White is whiter, the sun is brighter, the cutting wind in my face is taunting me with imaginary oxygen. By the time we reach a large sloping plain of snow, I feel more confident and relaxed in the crampons. In fact I am almost running though the snow in them, in some areas knee deep. We arrive at an abandoned and dilapidated cable car station - the official start of the Cosmiques des Arete route.

Blue skies and sunshine – Alpine heaven!

The start of the route is a series of mountain passes. Having never used an ice axe before, I quickly learnt its purpose on these passes. On the third or fourth pass, Rich had gone around a massive corner of rock to the next pitch. Once he was safe I would follow him out along the sloping ridge to where he was he was waiting. For the first time he was out of view and out of hearing range. Traversing out onto the exposed and steep pass alone, I maintained a good momentum of grabbing handfuls of white candyfloss with my left hand and ploughing the entire shaft of the axe into the snow at shoulder length with my right hand. Carefully collaborating each pounding step into the tiny ledge, I stepped onto what seemed a solid piece of mountain but instead turned to snow powder under my foot. My foot kept going and so did my body and for a moment it felt natural to just let myself slide and let the force swallow me into its flowing snowy waterfall. A sudden reflex bolted through my arm and I felt the sharp nose of my ice axe plummet into a rock jetting out above me just an arms length away, stopping my body immediately while lumpy chunks of snow kept moving under me. Dangling flat against the mountain and holding onto an ice axe with one hand that was pivoting itself on rock, I ate snow till I was on the snow ledge again. Within moments of being upright I had hurtled myself to the cascading boulders and safety of Rich’s stance.