Surprisingly I sleep well and feel good when my alarm goes off. I get up and put my stuff on, take a few photos and head to breakfast. I have the usual coco pops and bread as I haven't got to the bit in the guide book that tells me what to eat. Marco arrives early and has brought me a rucksack and head lamp. We load up and head off.

We get to the ski lift and I buy the tickets to head up. In front of me in the queue are two English fellas Ralph who lives over in France and Ed who'd come over to see him-we get chatting and I realise that I am way out of my depth. They've both climbed Kilimanjaro and Ed's done marathon de sables. This does nothing to comfort me. We head up in the cable car and then across to the train to the Nid D'Aigle. From here we set off on a slow slog up to Baraque des Rogne at 2768m a gain of 396m-I feel good and Marco sets a good pace. He's as competitive as me and when we reach a bottle neck behind people we head off up the steep side slopes scramble over boulders. From the Baraque des Rognes we head on straight up to Tete Rousse hut, Marco asks if I want a break but I've always found that having breaks only makes it harder to get going and more difficult in the long run. I've forgotten to bring any water anyway so we scramble up the 399 vertical metres to the Tete Rousse hut for lunch. We get there first but get served our food last. We have some potato and cheese type dish and I buy an extortionate bottle of water. I met Ed and Ralph's guide, Sam, he's a classic mountain guide, long dyed blonde hair with the routes all grown out and a 10day beard. We all sit next to a Spanish and a Swizz guy with their guide Fredo-he's young but looks like he's was born on the mountains. My guide seems to be a tough cookie and I trust him 90% of the time. He seems to like to test me and take me up harder routes than other people. We walked up the glacier without crampons while the others either cramponed up or headed further up for a flatter part. We also seem to be the only two without helmets on. Still we're moving fast, the altitude isn't affecting me and we head on out for the 650 vertical metres up to the Gouter Hut.

This is where the day gets tricky. It's climbing up near vertical rock faces, I'm roped to Maroc but don't fancy his chances or holding me in a fall. I'm not great with heights and find my self concentrating 100% on Marco's boots, trying to put mine exactly where he put his so much so that when we round a sharp corner I bash my head into a big and perfectly obvious rock. This doesn't help my confidence. The rocks are shiny from all the previous people this year. Rocks come away in my hands and I find myself not trusting my feet at all. There's a light covering of snow and this adds to the mix of people squeezing past on the way down and the wind gusting into me. Marco stands tall above me comfortable in the surroundings sturdy like a mountain goat, I quiver and slide around below him braced against the rocks like a baby elephant. Still my competitive side takes control, I don't look down and I heave my malcoordinated carcass up the face. We arrive at Gouter Hut early and Marco goes to find out what's going on before I put my stuff by my bunk and swap my boots for the huts slippers (much too small) and I slip around to the tables in the dining area. I feel some pressure in my sinuses and decide to get some water on board. Ralph and Ed turn up and we share a huge pot of tea. We talk about the concerns we've had for the day and it puts me at ease that they're struggling a bit too. We try and get a definite answer about the weather and our chances tomorrow but none of the guides are prepared to give a definite answer.

My head still aches so I head to the bunks for a siesta before tea at 6. I don't sleep but get some good rest and have a pee in the toilets-literally a seat overhanging the edge and they wreak worse than I do! I check on the board where I'm supposed to sit and get some more water on board. I'm on a table with Marco, some Germans and three Americans (two clients, one guide), the clients are typical Americans and I can't get much conversation out of them, but the guide is a top bloke called Tim. I have a right laugh with him, both he and Marco have guided on Denali and share a few stories about it. He puts my mind at ease about the route tomorrow and is genuinely nice-turns out he was born in England which explains it so I offer him a hob nob before heading off to bed.

We're due to get up and go at 3 but I don't have a watch so have to guess the time-I don't sleep anyway as I hear the winds shake the annexe I'm in and I can smell the stench from the toilets below. There's two people snoring in the room of forty and they are both lying next to me. The format for sleeping is two long bunks on either wall each with room for ten people to sleep with blankets and a pillow provided not exactly five star accommodation that you'd expect for E50 a night! Then again I am 3817m up on the edge of a cliff and it's blowing a gale outside so I shouldn't moan too much about being inside in the warm! I know I need to sleep but all I can hear is the synchronised snoring of the two Germans either side of me playing with the Foehn Wind rocking the hut in time. I can feel my ice axe with my toes but I think hacking someone to death for a bit of heavy breathing is a bit extreme.