A couple hours later, we burst back into the tunnel system blasted out of the summit block of the Midi. We were knackered from the return hike at 13,000 feet (one thing Chamonix does not do is provide easy acclimatization). Although the lift was closed, we stumbled onto two caretakers enjoying a bottle of wine in a cozy apartment suite. “Follow me,” one of them said. My spirits rose — surely there was some extra bunk space for the two of us.  We were led through more darkened tunnels, until at last we reached a door. “And here you are….”  

I had to laugh: we were going to spend the next 10 hours, until the sun rose and the lift started up again, sleeping in the shitter. Not that we could complain. Only a couple hundred meters away was the Cosmique Hut, offering warm bunks and hot meals, at the prohibitively exorbitant price of 60 euros a night. At least the bathroom was heated. Max and I curled up for an uncomfortable alpine bivy.  Only in Chamonix….