The Forbes Arete on the Aiguille du Chardonnet. I Couldn’t have a better route, a better day, better conditions nor a better comrade for my first Alpine peak. Imprinted on my memory for ever was the Frenchies charging up the hill, bawling for “Silence!” in the certain hope that this would avert avalanches. Fortunately the mountain was cowed into surrender, and obeyed, so we emerged from the glacier unscathed. The summit was toasted in sardines and orange juice. The Oxford contingent clapped our first ascent in mitten muffled applause. an uexpected treat was superb views of the Walker Spur. I didn’t realise I would get better acquainted twenty years later.