From climbing up mountains to jumping off them
Below the tip of my toes is a 300-metre drop onto the glacier below. My foot is curled over the edge of the rock. Gaining maximum purchase as I push off at a perfect angle, pre-determined by a thousand other jumps. Ingrained into my muscle memory. Practice doesn’t necessarily make perfect, but it does make permanent so I’ve made sure to practice perfectly.
Some times I think to myself why the fuck do we do this. I sat in the helicopter swooping around the sharp valley ridges. The pilot would drop me in Saas fee so I could pick up my car and drive to the hospital. Although everything was now ok, this is when the flood of thoughts and emotions hit.
A recce is seldom wasted, a phrase I have abided by ever since hearing it 10 years ago whilst serving as a Royal Marine. In this case it was no exception. We came to establish relationships with the locals, to set up a suitable camp and locate the access for the climb as well as landing for a potential BASE jump.
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Piz Badile was the only unknown in my North BASE Project. I was sure over the next two days the time and effort would pay off and we would get our new exit point, but after the fifth hour of searching the summit ridge I begun to doubt. I had climbed the North face 2 years ago. A few people had searched the mountain for a wingsuit exit but weren’t content with what they found. The mountain still remained unjumped.
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You don’t know until you know. I recited this in my head as we walked in the rain and then later as we bivvy’d in the howling wind. At 7am Nick lead the first pitch and the conditions were the best we could have hoped for. The rock quality was superior. The conditions were not going to be an excuse to bail. I knew we were going to complete the route.