The night was horrible. We brought 5°C sleeping bags and the temperature had dropped below freezing. During the night I had worn my Primaloft jacket, but François had no such luxury. So, when the alarm went off at 7:00, we were glad to put an end to the misery.

We arrived at the Pordoi-Joch (2239 m) at 8:00. Little did we know that the cable car does not start operations until 9:00. It was 2°C and very windy, but François was restless so he went on a small hike up the Regular route while I stayed in the car doing everything in my power to get warm. From the car, I noticed a few groups of climbers hiking the Regular route up the mountain (in hindsight, that should have meant something to me...). A half-hour later, François was back and suggested that we go into the cafe to drink something hot and look over the topo.

We took the first cable car to the top along with a German team. We knew the S-face (IV+) to be the most popular route on the mountain, so we ran down the Regular route just to find a dozen people climbing or waiting to climb the route; this was a rerun of the day before and it was getting old. Once again we had to change routes, although this time we had a climbing guidebook to aid us with the selection. The NW-face ("Fedele") was out as it was in deep shadows and the temperature was still around 2°C. The S-butress ("Maria-Kante", IV+) was not described in the guidebook, thus the only choice available was the S-edge of the S-butress (V+).

At the base of the S-edge of the S-butress, there was an Italian team (boyfriend/girlfriend) waiting for the temperature to rise. Since we did not have such concerns, we started climbing. From the beginning, the route was very hard. The first pitch is on the NW-face proper, and so, it had no sunlight. The rock felt like ice. The start of the first pitch is also an unprotected, ankle breaking bouldering move which François did admirably. The route remains tough for about 10m, until you reach the first piton after a very difficult and exposed move. By the time that François clipped the piton, his hands were at the end of what they could do -- a minute longer and he would have probably chute au sol (a.k.a. decked).

The next moves, over a bulge in the arête proper containing a thin crack, are the crux of the climb. There are two pitons protecting the move, but the lower one is worthless as it moves. François hooked a very shallow flake with an over-the-shoulder (a.k.a. sling or runner) and screamed "DRY". Dry is a literal translation of the word Sec, which French climbers use as Americans climbers use "Tight" for an urgent request to the belayer to take the slack out of the rope system. If the over-the-shoulder came off that flake, François was once again looking at a very harmful pendulum. He warmed his hands and off he went, treating the segment as he treats the incredibly hard bouldering problems in Fontainebleau. When he was up and clipped to a new piton, we both could breathe again.

When it became my turn to climb the pitch, I found the rock to be unbearably cold. At the crux I did everything in my power to climb it, but I just could not do it. I pulled on the gear, and with the weight of the pack, I could not get up. Finally, I clipped a over-the-shoulder on the moving piton and stepped on it. By the time I got through the crux moves my right hand was a bloody mess and when I arrived at the belay station I was shivering out of control with my teeth shattering so hard that I could hardly talk. I looked so bad that François thought we would have to get off the climb. Since the belay station was in the sun, I told him that I would be fine in a few minutes and to go ahead.

From the crux pitch on, we devoured the pitches up to the point where the S-edge of the S-butress route joins the S-face route. At that point I made a terrible mistake; I traversed onto the S-face, over a very good ledge, but without placing any protection for the traverse. The consequence of my stupidity was that as I brought François up, the ropes dropped rocks on to the S-face route which was full of people. François reprimanded me in front of three other climbing parties as if I was an infant that had just ran into the street. Since it was not the place to have a shouting match, and I was in the wrong, I kept my mouth shut and took consolation in the fact that there was a very scared girl in the S-face. She was sobbing hysterically because her boyfriend would not agree to bring her down.

At this junction of the route we had two problems: (1) we had joined with all those people that we had avoided early in the morning, and (2) from the description in the climbing guidebook, it was not clear where the route continued. Seeing climbers above, I suggested that direction but François had lost all trust in me and off he went following his "nose". What a mess! He was in a very exposed place, not clear about where to go next. He screamed profanity in French at the top of his lungs and demanded directions from me in broken English. Finally, he stopped talking to me all together (as he had determined that I was useless) and asked the "boyfriend" where the route continued. The problem was that the "boyfriend" did not have a clue either. So, he shrugged his shoulders at me and told François to go in the other direction. François followed his advice and got up. As it turns out, while at the belay, I saw parties go up in both directions.

We continued up and the Italian girl (the one that we had met at the base of the climb) caught up with me two pitches from the top. Apparently she had placed one piece of protection in the pitch where I had placed seven and François so deeply wished to have a climbing partner like her. For my part, I just wanted to be off this cold climb and get away from François. The last pitch was mine and it brought us to a place just under the cable car station on top of the mountain. We unroped and scrambled the last 30m to the cable car station. The scene was bizarre, happy fat tourists in their big jackets took pictures and congratulated us like we were crusaders coming back from the Holy Land. A german tourist took a picture of the four of us (the Italians, François and I) and I headed for a little corner in the cable car station where I could be alone while sorting my gear.

Back in town, François wanted to buy a cheap sleeping bag to put over his other bag and I wanted to go to the Internet cafe to download some pictures and empty the memory card in my camera. On the way, I spotted the German climbers from the day before and we invited them for coffee. The had taken the day off as one of them had been afflicted with the stomach flu. However, after hearing our horror stories on how crowded the routes were, Chris suggested that we climb the Vajolet Towers the next day.

After coffee, I went to the Internet cafe (where I could not do much as they only have DSL connectivity in Canazei) and François went gear shopping. Back in camp, we went to dinner at a local restaurant with the other members of the CAF IdF and then I took some time off to shower and call Rebecca prior to going to bed.