A La Conquete du Mont Blanc
It was 06.00 and I was roped up to my guide Olivier who was maintaining his steady pace across the endless snow fields. We had left most of the other groups behind who'd set out from our Club Alpin Francais hut a little over 3 hours previously. The view was incredible as the sun was coming up and we could see a perfect shadow of Mt Blanc keeping half of the valleys and mountains below us in night. As far as I was concerned this was fine; it was more than I could ever have expected and I would have been happy just to take it all in, stop for a while and then turn back to safety. Olivier had other ideas, and with the sun, the wind was also beginning to get up; he reckoned we had a fifty-fifty chance of reaching the 4808m summit, which was decreasing every minute that we didn't keep moving. There was still a knife-edge ridge up ahead, and any more wind would make it impossible to traverse.
The whole Mont Blanc nonsense had begun back in May when my outdoor guide of a brother Jim and I had been talking about plans for summer. Jim would be free from commitments in Africa and Nepal and I was planning a couple of weeks back in Europe to get away from the typhoons and heat of another Japanese summer. Corsica and the GR20 was the answer and we got as far as buying the guidebooks before we found it would be impossible to coordinate timing.
Feeling pretty down on the situation as the plans fell through I wanted to come up with something equally challenging that would take me away from life as a Japanese salaryman spending 3 hours a day in packed commuter trains. Jim mentioned that he fancied Mt Blanc and the idea stuck. I checked out some stuff online and after a couple of e-mails and calls to France found a Bureau des Guides that could offer 3-day tours (weather of course permitting). Thus decided I settled back into work for a month and didn't really think too much of it until I was packing my winter gear the night before flying back to England.
Jim was unable to make it but he managed to lend me most of his extreme weather stuff when we hooked up back in Chesterfield. I needn't have worried about packing much as he had everything I could need and anything else could be rented in Chamonix.
We (Yumi, my folks and I) drove down to the Channel Tunnel early Sunday morning and lunched in Chalons en Champagne before we arrived at Givry in the vineyards of Bourgogne where we spent the night. Beautiful weather and with still nothing more than rolling green hills and the vines of the Bourgonnais in sight, it was difficult to imagine what lay ahead. We visited a cave in the morning and drove up towards the mountains in
the afternoon. It was lunch when we read about Tragedie sur Mont Blanc in the local paper at Cluses and driving up the last stretch of L'Autoroute Blanche the scale of the whole task began to sink home. Mt Blanc towered above us; it's glaciers, snow, ice, crevasses, and rocks in a totally different world to the tranquil beauty of the valley below.
Nevertheless, I'd made a plan and, with the surprising consent of my mum, decided to let my guide make the call. We checked in at the Bureau des Guides to investigate and found that I hadn't yet a guide. Florence, running the whole show alone hadn't registered me properly but "there was no need to worry as (she'd) find me a guide by nightfall." We all drove back 40 minutes up to our base in Samoens and I waited for the call.
Olivier eventually called before dinner and we arranged to meet at the Aiguille du Midi cable car the next morning for a day of "acclimatisation" - really to allow Olivier to size me up. I rented some hard boots for the necessary crampons at the ubiquitous village Intersport La Hutte and returned to the Hotel for pastis before our meal.
Only having one day to check me out, Olivier decided to take me up high to see if I could cope with the snow, altitude and crampons. I had told him that I'd used crampons before (on Fuji) but I was really expecting some kind of instruction with the ice axe, crampons and rope before stepping out into the wild. Luckily a football mate Joe Frederick, had lent me his mountain bible so I had a few ideas of what I should do but I was still nervous as hell. My nerves increased when we got to the top cable car station at 3842m and came out through the maze of tunnels to the part where the signs say "do not enter beyond this point" and the rocks disappear beneath the snow.
Nevertheless we were running late and we had to go if we were to attempt Mt Blanc the next day. Olivier helped me into my (his spare) crampons and fastened the rope to my harness and told me that because the first part was downhill I had to go first. He also told me that it was a knife-edge ridge with sheer drops either side and that I should be careful. The clouds were thick enough to disguise the enormity of the drops but I was so petrified that I didn't even look to either side and concentrated only on the 30 cm wide path in the snow in front of me. I don't even think that if the sun had been shining I would have noticed the drops as I was much to busy putting every effort into not missing a step. Olivier saw this and warned me to lift my feet higher so that the crampons didn't catch and make me trip. I remember passing two returning climbers coming up and trying
stay as much to the centre of the track as possible. And then finally we were on a wider path. I can't remember much more as my mind was too busy concentrating on the trail below my feet.
Down on of the Col du Midi flats we passed several snow holes that climbers had dug to protect their tents from the elements. The traverse across the open snowfield to Mt Blanc du Tacul (the first of the 3 Mt Blancs) was a stroll in comparison but I was now deeply aware of the power of these mountains.
We'd now dropped down to 3532m but Olivier wanted to take me up to 4100m to see how my lungs and stamina would cope. Again the climb was made easier by not being able to fully see all the crevasses we'd have to cross. On the way up Olivier led and I was beginning to pick up some of his energy saving techniques. He urged me not to exert myself with large steps and to keep plodding with my feet facing across, rather than up, the slope. There'd been recent snow and Olivier wasn't impressed with the new tracks that others had made which led directly up the slope. He decided that this side wouldn't provide the best route up if we were to try the next day.
Almost at the l'Epaule du Mont Blanc du Tacul (shoulder of the first of the three Mt Blanc's) Olivier seemed satisfied that I'd put in the effort and asked if I wanted to stop. (I think we must have been at 4000m on his Suunto (climbing watch - Ed)). Looking down at the almost vertical drop below I decided that I didn't fancy stopping there and agreed to plod up the last 100 metres or so to the ridge.
The wind was stronger up top but this brought some cloud breaks and we could see across to the second "Mt Blanc" (le Mont Maudit) where the ascent looked even steeper and crevasse ridden. My head was feeling the altitude and despite the effort I didn't really want to eat anything. I had a couple of cookies and some gums that Olivier had brought but most of my packed lunch stayed in the sack. Olivier wanted to move on while the weather still wasn't too bad so we didn't waste much time.
The descent was perhaps more disturbing than the ascent as I had to go first and the tracks weren't too clear. I tried to remember where we'd crossed gaps in the snow and proceeded with caution learning how to use the ice axe along the way.
Once down the first slopes we had to traverse the large snow-field at the top of the Vallee Blanche once more. This time visibility was much better and Olivier pointed out the new Refuge des Cosmiques where climbers attempting Mt Blanc from this side would stay. Being close to the Aiguille the refuge was, so Olivier told me, spacious and well equipped. After seeing the quality of the existing tracks however, Olivier had already decided that an attempt on Mt Blanc from les Cosmiques would be very difficult.
The final climb up to L'Aiguille du Midi took the last energy from my legs so that by the time we reached the knife-edge ridge up to the viewing platform I was almost bent double - trying to keep as close to the little ground available as possible! Nevertheless we made it up and Olivier decided that I would be ok to try Mt Blanc the next day.
Everything would depend on the weather forecast, which Oilvier would check in the evening before calling me to confirm. It would be touch and go as bad weather was coming but it wasn't clear when it would hit. Feeling exhilarated after the one day alone I tried to explain to Olivier that whatever happened I'd already had a great experience. I was trying to tell him that if it was fifty-fifty for the attempt I was fine with him calling it off, but he seemed to have the impression that even with only a fifty-fifty chance, I wanted to go. (His enthusiasm thankfully rubbed off and I didn't correct him).
I'd wait for his call.
Olivier rang at 18.00 with the news. The weather forecast was for rain on Wednesday afternoon and winds getting stronger late on Thursday with storms approaching and expected from Friday to Tuesday. I thought that this was conclusive enough but Olivier seemed encouraged by the window that we had and by the fact that any attempt would either have to be now or not until late the next week. It was definitely fifty-fifty but we were going to give it a shot.
We agreed that we'd meet at Le Fayet tramway station in the morning and I hurried to pack. The evening was to be a fondue party and Alex, a French friend from university was driving up from Geneva. Again I had little time to worry about what I was letting myself in for.
My folks gave me a lift up the valley to Le Fayet in the morning where we met Olivier at 08:30 besides the wooden ticket hut at the base station of the Tramway du Mont Blanc (TMB). It was cloudy with signs of drizzle although we had seen the tops way above us through cloud breaks on our drive down. Olivier was optimistic and asked me which way I fancied descending. He clearly preferred a full traverse (climbing from the St Gervais side and coming down via L'Aiguille du Midi) and despite the ordeal of the previous day and the image of the crevasse filled face of Mt Maudit I said ok. Olivier promptly switched his rope to a 50m one for the steep descent. Whatever - it was nice to have a guide that I felt happy I could trust so I let him make the arrangements.
We arranged to meet my folks back at the base of L'Aiguille du Midi cable car at 13.00 the following day. Less than 36 hours until I'd be safe drinking a pression and eating steak-frites.
The tram left at 09.30 and took 1 hours 20 to climb 1600 metres up past St Gervais-les-Bains and the Col de Voza. Amazingly the top station (La Gare du Nid d'Aigle) was above the first layer of cloud and we had an incredible view of the Glacier de Bionnassay below le Dome du Gouter. There were a few tourists around but no one else attempting Mt Blanc. Olivier thought they'd all have been on the first train and we decided to set out quickly and hopefully avoid any of the rain that had been forecast for the afternoon.
Setting out at 2600 metres across the rocks of le Desert de Pierre-Ronde, it was just like a regular high alpine hike; the air wasn't thin and I didn't yet need the helmet, crampons, axe, and harness that I was carrying. Our destination was clearly visible perched on the edge of a rock face way up above us. The first hour or two wasn't too steep but after that it was clear we'd be climbing more than hiking.
There was snow around but it was soft enough for us to avoid using the crampons. We passed a "group" of mountain goats along the way and stopped for our baguettes jambon-fromage on what must have been a 60 degree slope above the Glacier de la Griaz (near the Refuge de Tete Rousse where you could also stock up and buy lunch if needed). We were now at about 3100m. Olivier chose the spot as it was on the leeward side of a rock face but that was the only attraction it held. It was a good feed but I didn't get too comfortable for fear of dropping something or even slipping myself.
With the weather remaining dry and wind getting stronger all the time Olivier wanted to press on to our hut. From our lunch spot we climbed back on to the ice field behind the Refuge. We roped and helmeted up in case of falling rocks and proceeded across quickly. Arriving at the steep rock face of le Grand Couloir for our last climb up to the refuge we clipped onto a rope in order to traverse a steep gully where there was plenty of evidence of rock and icefall. Apparently Olivier and some other Saint Gervais based guides had been up to check and reinstall it earlier in the spring. Olivier wouldn't let me rest until we were safely across this and on the rock face itself.
Our goal, the Refuge de l'Aiguille du Gouter, was now visible reflecting the sun off it's metallic shell almost 600m directly above us. It was easy to make out as it had been built on the edge of the rocks at 3817m as there was a glacier pushing down immediately behind it. The rain had so far held off but as it had been forecast for the afternoon, and not wishing to spend the night and early morning climb in wet clothes, we pushed on relentlessly.
By this time we were beginning to pass a few groups descending and even caught up with a couple on their way up. The track zigzagged carefully up the rock face with ropes and chains installed at the steepest points. The air was beginning to get thinner now, so in-spite of the steep gradient I concentrated on the smaller steps Olivier had told me to take the day before.
It was just after 15.00 when we finally reached our hut. There was a kitchen, dining room, three or four large bedrooms with mattresses laid out on two levels and an outdoor toilet block. The hut itself was run by the Club Alpin Francais and permanently staffed. Olivier said that in the summer it would fill past capacity (up to 150) sleeping 3 to 2
mattresses and causing pushing and squabbling at meal times (especially in the morning with the rush to be first up, out, and up). We were lucky however, probably because of the uncertain weather, and there can't have been more than 30 or 40 staying the night.
Olivier showed me my berth and advised that I try to get a few hours sleep before dinner at 18.30. This I easily managed despite a group of Spanish climbers chattering away.
There were a few others at the hut with guides and a couple of larger groups of Italians and Spanish. There was also an old Japanese guy up there on his-own. The talk over supper was of the weather forecast and how it would read. We knew that this would be the deciding factor as to whether we would even try to make a summit attempt in the morning.
Despite feeling the altitude a little, I ate and drank as much as I could. We bought a bottle of water (although I'd have preferred a beer or wine (also on sale)), as after the effort I knew that I'd have to be in top condition to stand a chance of making the summit. We had some dry bread and rice with gruel and a piece of cheese followed by a chocolate mousse and coffee. The remote location meant that the food wasn't as good as at the other refuge on the Aiguille du Midi side, but it was ok.
Whilst savouring the mousse au chocolat dessert the news everyone was waiting for was pinned to the wall. The wind would continue throughout a clear night getting stronger in the morning. Cloud build up was forecast around the summit from dawn and rain/snow set to arrive in the afternoon. This was likely to last 5 days until the following Tuesday. I translated this for an American and the lone Japanese guy and waited for Olivier's verdict. To my mind it was now more touch and go than ever.
Olivier, along with almost everyone else in the hut, decided there was still a chance and that we should go for it in the early hours. In order to reach the top and get down safely we would have to avoid as much of the cloud build up and increasing wind as possible. This settled I turned in by 20.00 and with my Virgin Atlantic earplugs and eye mask I managed to sleep right through until breakfast at 02.00.
Everyone was at the table with all their gear ready for the off. We had marmalade, toast and a bowl of coffee and then packed up. We were the only ones planning the full traverse instead of returning via the hut so I settled our bill (a reasonable 300 francs) and got ready with my harness, torch, balaclava, gloves, axe and crampons.
The way led right up onto the glacier behind the hut and then a long fairly gentle climb up to the Dome du Gouter at 4305m. It was a beautiful night and not as cold as I had expected. The head-torch lights of several other groups up ahead leading the way up the dark silhouette of Mt Blanc were and incredible sight. We proceeded at the same steady pace plodding our way upwards and onwards.
Olivier wouldn't let me rest longer than 10 seconds and kept encouraging me to keep going with a gentle tug on the rope. We weren't going fast but it wasn't long before we'd passed the 4 other groups who'd set off before us. Olivier remained convinced that any delays and the clouds and wind would make reaching the summit impossible. I wasn't too confident about us leading the way as I'd surmised that one of the other groups would be first into a crevasse but managed to keep going. Fortunately (?) my right crampon came loose and we had to pause which was enough to let one other guide and his two Yorkshire clients past.
As it slowly became lighter the mountain seemed to grow more and more impressive. As well as the amazing shadow cast by Mt Blanc as the sun rose we could now see glaciers stretching out below us and all of a sudden seemed much more exposed to everything.
Up ahead a few clouds began to develop around the summit as the wind slowly grew in strength. Still, things were going well.
It must have been about 06:30 when Olivier paused near the unmanned Refuge Bivouac le Vallot (4362m) and spoke to the other guide. They were discussing whether we could make the summit as we'd now reached the last steep and knife edged ridge up via Les Bosses to La Tournette (4677m). This would be the last major challenge before the summit dome. The wind was the main issue and although stronger than we would have liked both guides decided that we had a maximum of an hour (to get up and down) before the wind would make things too risky. We were to make an attempt for the top.
With Olivier's caution and the ever-thinning air, I moved very very slowly and with extreme care. Again, like the previous day's ridge I can't remember too much as I blocked everything out and concentrated on the next step forward. Nevertheless we weren't too long getting off the ridge and onto the dome which seemed pretty wide and flat. Indeed there was no visible summit marker, cairn or flag and we hardly stopped.
We got up there with the other three, congratulated each other, looked around for no more than a few minutes, and then set off down the other side. The other group were returning by the same way and with the cloud cover at the top it was only a matter of seconds before we were the only people around. I was relieved and surprised to get to the top - I hadn't really thought about how difficult it would be and didn't really expect to make it - but I was still worried about getting down and back to L'Aiguille du Midi.
My worries increased as the visibility got worse. Olivier gave the impression he wasn't too sure where we were heading and there were no tracks to follow. Furthermore I was now leading. Olivier pointed to the right and I moved on but after a few hundred metres the wind was so strong that we had to crouch down and dig our crampons and axes in.
As ever, Olivier didn't want to waste any time and at the first signs of a small break in the wind we set off again towards a cerraque and the ridge. We crossed the cerraque one-by-one on a snow bridge and a break in the clouds indicated the way ahead. We would descend 500m via the Petits Mulets and the Mur de la Cote to the Col de la Brenva, which lay between Mt Maudit and Mt Blanc itself. Again we couldn't hang around for fear of opening holes and falling rocks.
As we descended we had to be careful as we were traversing above the huge Glacier des Bossons to our left. To the right we had the cliffs of Mont Maudit and we couldn't risk hanging around because of snow and rock fall. It was at this point that we met a couple of mountain skiers descending down from the Col du Mont Maudit and heading over to Mt Blanc. It looked easier on skis coming down but I didn't envy their journey up to the now wind and cloud swept summit.
Having rounded Mt Maudit we came to the bit I had been worried about since the previous day. Before we could cross to the Mt Blanc du Tacul we had to get down the steep and cerraque filled face from the col. Olivier removed his sack at the top and for the first time got out the whole 50m length of rope. Securing one end via himself to his axe, which he locked into the snow; he told me to lower myself down using the rope, my crampons, and my own axe. This I managed, Olivier encouraging me to go faster all the time. The rope however ran out just above a crevasse and there I was digging in so as not to slip. I tried to shout up to Olivier to ask for an extra metre or two, which would have allowed me to get below the gap and pass the immediate danger but I couldn't make myself clear enough. Olivier was by now coming down himself without the support of the rope above so I dug in further and waited. When Olivier was half down he saw my predicament and waved me to move down to a safer spot. This I gratefully did with the aid of a couple of Eastern Europeans who were by now waiting below to climb up.
By the time Olivier joined us at the base of the steep incline, the Eastern Euros had the cheek to ask to borrow our rope. They didn't have much equipment with them and I didn't rate their chances but they decided to move on anyway. As they climbed up with their axes Olivier wisely pointed out that coming down would be a different story. Again I was thankful that we had managed to summit before the wind really got up.
Feeling a little more relaxed, but still just as out of breath as before, I carried on down on a shorter tether. We came to another gap and Olivier pointed me on. I think that I was now beginning to think we'd make it so I rushed across the crevasse, slipping on the other side. I must have slipped 5-10m I guess before I stopped. I remember thinking that I would stop myself, but Olivier had jumped the hole and dug himself in to stop my slide before I could react. Impressive stuff, as I could have pulled Olivier into the hole or further down but we were both safe. We didn't hang about too much here but Olivier pointed across to a "safe" point where we could rest a little. I thus got up and plodded on a little more carefully than before.
It wasn't long before we had made it back to the shoulder of the Mt Blanc du Tacul that we had climbed to the previous day. There were now quite a few groups climbing up - mainly to the summit of the Tacul - and the view of the Vallee Blanche and Italy and Switzerland behind was truly amazing. The few clouds to have developed were up around the summit and to all other intents and purposes it was an incredible day.
Back at 4,000m we even began to feel the warmth of the sun and the snow itself was also softening compared with the previous day. We proceeded down past the groups coming up. When there were few below us, Olivier stopped and told me to remove my crampons. I wasn't too sure of this but he pointed out that there was no where to fall and also that the crampons were slowing the descent. Without the metal to grip into the snow it was like a scree run down and we made much quicker progress. Olivier didn't use his crampons again but I couldn't help but think that we still had to climb the final knife-edge ridge back to l'Aiguille.
Down to 3600m my head felt better and we continued at a slower pace taking in all the outdoor activities going on around us. One group were performing a crevasse rescue drill over at the top of the Vallee Blanche and there were also plenty of climbers around - either on the Mt Blanc du Tacul or on the rocks up to L'Aiguille du Midi. I asked Oliver if he'd climbed these areas before thinking how tough it looked. He told me yes, but that he preferred longer climbs although it was difficult to imagine much bigger rock faces than those towering around us.
We made it back up to the ridge for the final 300m climb. In spite of the distance we'd covered and the loads in our sacks the proximity of our goal was enough of an energy/adrenalin boost to keep me going. Even climbing up without crampons wasn't too difficult in the softer snow, but I'd already made up my mind that I was better wearing them than not for the final ridge.
Olivier let me strap in and take a final breather before the last plod. I noted that Olivier wasn't going to wear his and remember thinking about how he'd be able to dig himself in to break my fall if I slipped. I guess that he either thought that I wouldn't fall, or he knew that if I did slip, the only way to stop me would be to launch himself off the other side of the ridge.
We stopped once or twice along the ridge track to allow other's coming down to pass, but once again I concentrated so hard on the narrow path in the snow in front of me that I can remember little else. Eventually, I looked up and the safety rails of the viewing platform and the mini-swing gate through which we had first left for training two days previously was just ahead. Ten more steps to safety!
There were plenty of people milling around the viewing platform and taking snaps of the snowy mountains with the backdrop of the pure blue sky. There were also, of course other mountaineers all decked out in the gear. The summit that we'd reached just five hours previously now seemed light years away again as we entered back into the normal world. It was a great feeling to step through the gate and finally relax knowing where we'd been. I was also pretty happy just to be alive and felt a great sense of achievement at what we'd managed. Looking back towards the summit, it was evident that I had been somewhere unlike any other place I'd ever visited. This was made even better by the fact that we'd got to the top on an uncertain day and totally under our own steam. It had truly been a trip into another world.
Despite the uncertainties of the weather and the route, Olivier had suggested to my folks that we meet back at the Aiguille du Midi base station (1000m) at 13.00. It was just 12.00 so even after 28 hours in the mountains we were in perfect time.
When we arrived at the bottom, my folks were waiting with Yumi - fresh from their own adventures in Geneva and Sixt-Fer-a-Cheval. We grabbed an extra delicious tasting buffet feast of hache-frites and salads with Orangina to wash it all down at the open terasse cafe and relived the trip together.
Many thanks to Yumi Kishi and my folks for allowing me to pursue this crazy idea on our short trip around France, to Olivier for never failing to encourage me to keep on going, and to my mountain guide of a brother Jim Eite for the loan of his excellent outdoor gear and providing much of the inspiration for the trip. |
