Anthony Woodrow and I started climbing at eight or so, and for most of the way up the climbing was straightforward. Somehow we were however slow. It was mostly fairly pleasant, and also had an interesting chimney pitch. I had forgotten to take the equipment from Anthony at the last belay, so I just had a few quickdraws and nuts left over from the previous pitch. This didn't turn out to be as much of a problem as it might have been, as there wasn't much opportunity to use these in any case, and so instead I wedged myself as deeply into the crack as possible. I squirmed and squeezed my way upwards, with the knowledge that Anthony would soon have to climb the same crack making it all seem not too bad. Sure enough, he enjoyed it even less than I did, and the shiny bits on his rucksack weren't quite as shiny afterwards either.
We got higher and higher, but unfortunately it was getting later and later. According to the guidebook it was necessary to traverse right away from the main crack at some point, but unfortunately I did this too soon. It become clear to me after making this mistake that we were going to end up spending the night on the route, but unfortunately less so to Anthony, who looked quite surprised as I remarked to him that we had better starting looking for somewhere to sleep.By sheer good luck there was a cave to be seen slightly above and to the left of our belay. I climbed up to it and it turned out to be just the right size for two people to sleep. At first I banged in a peg, which then turned out to be superfluous when I crawled to the back of the cave and discovered a providential thread. The roof of the cave was not quite high enough for sitting up even at its highest point and the floor sloped down and then out over the east face of the Rosengartenspitze, so we were keen to make sure that everything was clipped on, not just ourselves. Once we had done that there wasn't much more for it than to settle down for a not very comfortable night. To someone like Mick Fowler the bivvy would probably have qualified as four star at least, but when you're not used to it and are dressed for a rock climb then it's not as much fun.
Anthony sent a text message to his girlfriend Ned, who was waiting for us below in the hut with our friends Maria and Mario, to say that we were fine but that we would be down tomorrow. Her reply, when it came, was not what we had expected. It is in the spirit of British mountaineering that if somebody wants to spend a cold, uncomfortable night on a ledge three quarters of the way up a cliff, then that is his business. Apparently the Italians don't see it like that. Our lights had been seen from the Gardacia Hut below, and now a group of indignant mountain guides had gathered and were threatening to rescue us. All evening long an unpleasant exchange of text messages went back and forth, relayed by the luckless Ned, in which the guides accused us of recklessness and stupidity, against which we tried to tell them that we were fine and would they please just go away. Eventually they did call it a day, departing with a threat that if we weren't down by such-and-such a time the following day then they would rescue us whether we liked it or not.What with the chilly night (the thermometer outside the Vajolet Hut had registerd 5 degrees C) and the hard ledge we didn't sleep as much as we might, and were very glad when the sun came over the horizon. We were then able to witness a beautiful sunrise over the Marmolada. Unfortunately I was cold enough that I didn't get my camera out to record it.
Once we had packed our rucksacks again we made two big and unpleasant diagonal abseils to get back on route and climbed up a bit further to the point where we should have turned right. Here it is totally clear which way the route goes. From here a pleasant rising traverse, a wonderful grade V wall pitch and an interesting windy chimney led to the summit ridge, from which it was just a scramble to the summit itself.
Ned was sweet enough to come up to the Santner Pass Hut below the west face to meet us, bringing us all sorts of nice things to eat. Considering that I had only eaten half a dry roll in the past twenty four hours I wasn't very hungry, but it was very nice to be met. Back at the Vajolet Hut I did a better job of doing justice to my supper that evening.
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