from stonefall at the back of the basin. The fact that the existence of such an area cannot be suspected when looking from the nearby ridge, gives some idea of the huge scale of the precipice. From the bivouac we could gaze upwards at one of the most sensational pitches I have ever seen: a steep slab of rock curved away to lose itself in the wall above. Above and below it were huge overhangs of rock. Along this route lay our only means of escape. We knew that if we were unable to pierce this barrier we would be faced with a long retreat. Our fourth day on the face started at 6 o?clock as Tony led off to a minute one-foot stance below the overhangs. Leading through across the slab, which rose in an immense sweep of verticality above my bead, I reached a point about fifteen feet from the end. The only hope here was to tension across those few feet of blank rock. But how? Above was a small overhang. By reaching out over this it was possible to hammer in a piton above and then to swing across the void. Another short groove and it was possible to move right across a short vertical wall sandwiched between the roofs, to a sensational ledge right on the very edge of the top overhangs. While I set about the task of hauling up the sacks, I accidentally dislodged a stone which fell in one immense sweep of