For the past three years, the Bozeman Ice Festival has marked the beginning of my winter season. I say goodbye to warm sun and rock, climbing slippers and tank tops and trade it all in for big boots, crampons, axes and of course, snow and ice. My husband, Adam, and I arrived a little early to to reconnect with the feeling of standing on front points and swing tools into frozen waterfalls. Although the idea of standing in the cold all day is never that appealing at the start of the season, the magic of reconnecting with the ice instantaneously makes me forget about the pain of screaming barfies and a shivering body. This year though, the transition wasn’t as brutal as previous years when I would partake in the Icebreaker –  a competition where we would run at least as much as we would ice climb, trying to hit three areas in the canyon, having lots of fun in the process, crossing paths with fellow competitors and trying to earn the most points by the end of the day.

The Icebreaker competition was cancelled because of a fatality that occurred in the canyon during the Icebreaker last year, when world renown ice climber Guy Lacelle was taken by a small avalanche and fell 500ft to his death. This was such a big loss for the community: we was not only an amazing climber, but one of a few people who really stuck to their life values. This event really scarred me because it was then that for the first time I came across a dead body in the mountains and with that, I wasn’t sure that I would return to the event. I didn’t really care to revisit the canyon, relive those moments, and was afraid of how it would affect me. But I am glad I came back.

The athletes gathered wednesday night at the Northern Lights Store to talk about the event, talk about what each had done throughout the year, how conditions were in the canyon, etc. It was so nice to see many familiar and friendly faces. I am always comforted by the sense of belonging to this amazing community of people who live for this mutual passion. Joe Josephson – the organizer – was as enthusiastic as ever, making us all feel welcome. JoJo has traveled the world in search of new ice climbs his whole life, wrote guidebooks to the Canadian Rockies and to Montana, and his unconditional love for this activity combined with his permanent smile are contagious.

The official start to the event was Thursday. Local climber taught clinics while I went climbing with Adam above Genesis 2, an area located straight above the parking lot. We had heard of a new bolted route being put up, so we headed that way. As often during busy events, the route was taken so we decided to explore a little and Adam found a fun looking line: it started up a chossy crack of bad conglomerate, reached a smear of ice, continued further up the crack to 40 ft of vertical and very brittle ice. Finding a First Ascent in such a well travelled area always feels like you found that precious hidden gem. Climbing it involved eating a lot of dirt and breaking a lot of ice but it was steep enough that we were pretty pumped from climbing it. A perfect mix. We then went back down to the line that was previously busy and got to climb it in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. We ended the day with a nice warm meal in town to refuel for the following day’s clinics.

The Bozeman Ice Festival is the only event to host a full day of all women’s clinics, taught by women guides. I was working with Mattie Sheafor from Jackson Hole whom I’d worked with at Chicks with Picks this year. We arrived early in the morning to a parking lot full of very motivated and excited women, standing in the falling snow with their packs on and ready to go before we had even left the warmth of our car. This surge of energy is better than any double shot of coffee in the morning. Our clinic was introduction to leading and multipitch efficiency on ice. To make sure that everyone’s expectations are meant, I always ask what those are. Mostly, our ladies wanted to be more self reliant, more efficient on ice, be able to place screws and take them out properly and build anchors. So that’s what we worked on all day. While some were climbing and working on their “triangle” – aka, swinging one tool up and two feet below in line with the ice axe to form a triangle, which is the most efficient way to climb ice -, others were learning how to place a screw, build an anchor, make V-threads and multipitch efficiency. Despite strong winds blowing the snow in all direction, the psych was high and time flew by. I get so much out of days like these: seeing people learn, improve and wanting to get the most out of the day makes my job so rewarding. We wrapped up the day with a hot mint liquored coco at the parking lot and huge platter of cheese. Yum! The little details, the little treats is what makes this event so special.

Clinics went on through the rest of the week-end. With a busy schedule ahead, I wanted to take advantage of my time in Hyalite canyon to climb for myself and to spend some time with friends that I don’t get to see very often. Audrey Gariepy is one of them. She lives in Quebec and travels the world climbing and plants trees in the summer. Our paths only cross at ice climbing events it seems. We did a trip together to Canadian Rockies’s Icefall Brooke a few years back and I hope we will get to do another trip someday. She is one of those happy people that I really enjoy spending time with. On saturday, we hiked deep into Hyalite Canyon to climb Cleopatra’s Needle, a WI5/120m route which was in easier condition this year. The 1.5hour hike in went by fast because we chatted so much. Luckily, no one was on the climb when we arrived so we had it all to ourselves. Great climbing! As we rappelled another party was starting up. We thought we would climb some more, somewhere else, but instead we decided to watch these guy try to climb a nearby route called Airborn Ranger – a long pilar which was barely  touching down. The guy made two moves and went airborn on Airborn Ranger! Ouch!

The following day was really warm. Majka Burhardt, Pete Doucette and I tried to go ice climbing, but traveling on snow had become heinous  so we bailed and went jeans shopping instead! Love it!

Each night, we regrouped at the Emerson Center to watch slideshows by Will Gadd, Emily Stifler, Jason Thompson, Jim Shimberg and a beautiful heartfelt movie by Chris Alstrin who did an amazing job capturing who Guy Lacelle really was. It was inspiring to watch and so humbling to revisit with this amazing man. It felt like coming full circle with last year’s event. He is gone, but thanks to this beautiful tribute, he is immortalized in all of our hearts.

The 15th edition of the Bozeman Ice Festival was the best I have attended yet. The atmosphere was a lot more relaxed without the competition and we were all there to share in a passion and remember a man who’d inspired us all in one way or another. I left with a smile on my face and full of gratitude to reconnect with friends and meet new ones from all horizons. Thanks to all the people who made it happen. Will be back!
View photos here: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bozeman-Ice-Climbing-Festival/182780536740#!/pages/Bozeman-Ice-Climbing-Festival/182780536740?v=photos

Thanks to First Ascent and Petzl for sending me there!

Frendo Spur… check it out! http://blog.firstascent.com/2010/10/22/first-ascent-guide-caroline-george-navigates-the-frendo-spur-in-france/

Les Drus, The Drus. A beautiful granite monolith that stands proud above the Chamonix valley, burning like a flame as the sun sets down on it.

There is no easy way up the Drus. There is no easy approach to it either. It’s a mountain that you have to earn. I first climbed it back in 2001, upon graduating from law school. I was with my brother and we had wanted to climb the American Direct, a stunning line up the center of the west face. We had little experience and carried way too much with us – we had over 5liters of water for our bivouac half way up the face! – and we didn’t make it to the summit. The route doesn’t end at the summit, but with a mountain like the Drus, the top matters. I had always wanted to get back on the Drus. In 2003, I climbed the north faces of the Eiger, the Matterhorn and the Grandes Jorasses, all in just over three months. A week later, I was climbing the north face of the Piz Badile, another one of the six great north faces. I was hoping to climb all six in six months, but that summer had been very dry and the Drus was falling apart. An ascent of its north face would have been suicidal. I tried the north face of the Cima Grande too. We left after work on a Friday evening, drove 8hours to Cortina d’Ampezzo and tried to climb the route the following day. It was already late in the fall and very cold, but moreover, the local rescue team was conducting a training, rapping 300m down the face. Their ropes were hitting the face, triggering lots of rock falls. We had to bail and drive back to be on time for work the next day. I hadn’t given that project much thought until this summer.

With a very wet August in the Alps, I figured conditions were going to be amazing for early season ice climbing in the mountains. I didn’t have a precise idea as to what I wanted to climb. Adam was desperately looking for a partner to climb the north face of the Eiger but I had no real interest in climbing it again, I had been working non stop, guiding pretty long routes back to back and felt that I needed to rest more than go climb a big face. But since he couldn’t find anyone, I motivated to go with him and started to look forward to a bivouac on the face. Yet at the last minute, he found a partner. The next day, I woke up to intense FOMO desperately longing to do something big too. The weather was perfect, conditions were perfect and I was dealing with shuttling cars and house work instead of being in the mountains. During a failed attempt on the Lessueur route, I saw that the approach couloir to the Dru looked like it was in condition and I was excited to give it a go.

I first went with a girlfriend, Ildi Kiss, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time: we had first met competing in ice climbing world cups back in the early 2000. She hadn’t been in the mountains in a while but was motivated and it was really fun to reconnect with her and try this route with her. We left early in the morning and simul-climbed some of the approach couloir. Things spieced up after that. I led the first mixed section and she led the second one but ended up way left of where the route was.

So, we had to lower off and climb back up to the base of the Nominee crack – a 30m long overhanging crack filled with fixed pitons. We climbed it but when we got to the top, we realized it was a little late and that we would most likely get benighted on the route if we kept going. Night falls at 6.30pm at this time of year, so we only had a few hours of daylight left and I wasn’t keen to search for rappels in the dark (the rappel route doesn’t go down the climbing route). So we rapped but I knew I would be back before I flew back to the US, providing I found a motivated partner. I couldn’t pass up the perfect conditions on the route and the beautiful Indian Summer.

The crux indeed proved to be the lack of partners: people were either down south rock climbing, or working, or on expeditions and no one was really motivated to hike up there when you can access it more easily on skis in the winter. I guided the Midi-Plan traverse on the day following our return from the Drus. On the way back, I got a message from my friend Ueli Steck saying that he was really motivated to climb this route with me. I was bursting at the seams with excitement: not only I had a solid partner, but I also knew we would for sure make it to the top! My only worry was that I was worked from too many big days in the mountains and from lack of sleep, but motivation was all I really needed to get me up the climb. The body would follow.

We met the following afternoon at the Montenvers train station to sort out gear. We hadn’t seen each other in a few years and it was fun to catch up as we hiked back up to the bivouac. We made good time hiking through the heinous talus field and reached the rocky knob at the base of the Drus in 2h30. We weren’t alone. Another party was going to climb the Lessueur route and two others were going for the same route as us. Since it’s an ice climb, we didn’t want to have anyone ahead of us, so we got up at 1am to start up the route.

There was no moon, so it was pitch black out, but I knew the way and thought I could figure it out in the dark. Ueli led out and went off route pretty much right away, but it enabled us to climb a pretty fun pitch, so that was all good. We rapped down it and I led to the start of the difficulties. It was still dark when we got to the Nominee crack.

Ueli led it in style, freeing this very steep/slightly overhanging crack. I so wished I would have had monopoints to free it too, but with dual points, I couldn’t reach inside the crack and my feet would skit, so I resorted to stepping on some of the pins. Two more sustained traversing rock pitches with rotten ice and lots of wideness took us to the base of the ice couloir.

From there, we found perfect ice to the top. We simul-climbed it in two sections and made it to the Breche des Drus, embracing the sunshine. We kept going to the “antecime” of the Petit Dru, sorted out the gear and started back down to the Breche des Drus.

We had to build V-Threads (ice anchors) on the way down as there weren’t any, which made us think that we might have been the first to top out the route this season.

I lost count of the number of rappels we did down the 800m long face, but we were back at the bivouac by 3.15pm. After a little

soup, we packed our stuff and made our way back down to Chamonix. The train had closed for the season, so we were forced to hike all the way down to the valley floor. We were down when the bells rung 7pm.

The north couloir of the Drus is the best climb I have done in a long time. It was sustained and varied, with lots of ice and mixed terrain. It’s one of those routes I could do over and over again! Of all the peaks in Chamonix,  the Drus is the most striking and proud one. It’s every alpinist’s dream to tick this one off and I was all the more happy to reach the top by climbing this stunning line!  It felt good to want a climb this badly again. I have spent the past couple of years focused on getting my IFMGA certification, almost forgetting about the lines that had haunted my dreams. Climbing the Drus has enabled me to reconnect to who I was before I decided to become a guide: an extremely motivated alpinist, climber and ice climber. I am already looking forward to the next big climb!

The Kuffner Ridge is border to Italy and France, separating two spectacular cirques: the Maudit Cirque and that of the Brenva (south side of Mont Blanc). The ridge was first climbed in the late 18s, by Mr.Kuffner who had to chop steps the whole way for his clients. Luckily for me, times – and gear – have changed!

The ridge is very long and offers spectacular knife-edge-snow ridge climbing and lots of  mixed terrain. It tops out on Mont Maudit -Mont Blanc’s little brother – at 4465m in elevation. It’s one of my favorite climbs. I had climbed it a few years back with a friend and was excited when Flo asked me to guide her up it. I was looking forward to revisiting this noteworthy climb.

It took us two tries to get it. The first time, we left from the Aiguille du Midi et hiked past the majestic Grand Capucin to reach the bottom of the couloir leading to the Fourche Hut. This little bivouac is perched on the ridge, in a totally impossible location. It’s hard to understand how it can stand there on its own. It can only sleeps 12 people and there were way more people than that in the hut that night. Was it the nasty-ness of the hut, the crowd, the lack of sleep, the altitude? I don’t know. But 30mins into the climb, Flo got really super sick. She started throwing up and feeling very dizzy. So, we went back to the hut, napped for an hour and started the long descent down the couloir we had climbed. That took a while since we only had one 40m rope and the couloir is 200m long. When we got down, she felt better and we saved the day by climbing the beautiful Aiguille d’Entreves Traverse.

She went home that night. I called her again the following day and said that we should give it another go. She drove back from Switzerland and we rode the Helbronner lift across the Vallee Blanche and this time slept at the Torino Hut. This adds a few hours to the climb but offers way better sleep and food. We left in the pitch black night and headed to a couloir right of the regular couloir to meet the ridge a little higher up. We reached the ridge by dawn. It was a beautiful day, until I hear a huge serac fall on the south face of Mont Blanc, where Adam was climbing. The serac kept falling and falling. And then the heli came, in, and out, and in, and out. I thought for sure that Adam was dead. So the whole time, I was super freaked out, wondering how my life was going to be from now on. Eventually, I saw him way high up on the climb and was relieved! Horrible feeling though.

The climb was in great condition and we moved fast up the beautiful ridge that went on for ever. Gradually, the climb disappeared in the clouds. It had just snowed two nights before and the track down from the top of the Maudit had disappeared under lots of fresh snow and accumulations. We topped out in a full on white out and super strong northerly winds. I felt quite alone, having to navigate down the Maudit, breaking trail in sometimes thigh high snow. Yikes! Eventually, we found the three Mont Blanc track and made it back in time to catch the last cable car back down to Chamonix!

Thanks to Flo for wanting to do this climb and doing such a great job on it!

I love all aspects of guiding. Alpine, ski, ice, etc. In the midst of a long season of guiding in the mountains however, rock guiding is a welcome breath of fresh air: light packs, approach shoes, climbing with a light rack, no crampons needed, often climbing in a tank top basking the sunshine… it really doesn’t get much better than this.

I was blessed with nearly two weeks of just that at a time when my body was screaming for a break from long alpine routes. Lucky me. On days when the weather is too bad to climb in Chamonix, I took my clients to sunny Italy to climb on the beautiful red dome of Machaby, where we climbed Bucce D’Arancia, a beautiful 10 pitch route with just enough breeze to make the sun enjoyable.

On warmer days, there are many options to climb around Chamonix, from cragging to long alpine rock climbing routes, either on red gneiss in the Aiguilles Rouges to beautiful orange granit. I guided a lot in the Aiguilles Rouges, which offers one of the most beautiful views on the Mont Blanc range.

I got to guide great routes right off of the Flegere:

The famous Index, Mani Puliti and Gaspard Ier with Tamsin:

Manhattan-Kaboul on Floria and La Ravanel on the Aiguille Crochues with Sophie and Denis:

There is amazing climbing right across the border too and we got to climb amazing featured limestone both on the Dent de Morcles and on the Sanetch with Evelyne and my friend Fiona.

Another climb in the Switzerland: The Pilier de la Pissechevre (the peeing goat!!)

I really enjoyed all my days rock guiding and was refreshed and ready to get back to the Alpine world after these two weeks on the rock. Next up was the Kuffner ridge… coming up in the next blog! Stay tuned!

Eiger Nordwand from caroline george on Vimeo.

While growing up, I had heard of the infamous Eiger North Face, but I’ll confess, it was mostly just some mythical mountain that I knew nothing about.  While in college I remember a friend telling me they had visited Switzerland and looked “down” on this face (presumably from the tunnel window).  Being a climber I casually mentioned how I wanted to go climb that one day – still knowing nothing of what my statement entailed.  I was quickly told it was impossible and I would never be able to do it… “You don’t understand”, exclaimed my friend there is rock, snow, ice, even waterfalls on this face it is just unclimbable.  That was all I needed, while I nodded in agreement this was a challenge I couldn’t ignore and in my mind it was settled –  I would go climb the Eiger North Face someday.

The famous Eiger tunnel and the start of our approach (the descent comes down the West Flank just behind/above the tunnel)

Three and a half years ago a friend and I flew to Switzerland to attempt the Eiger.  We had heard the conditions were great, so we bought last minute plane tickets and set off.  As it turned out, the conditions “were” great , but it had been snowing non-stop for nearly three weeks now and conditions were no longer good. While we did start  the climb, our attempt was short lived.  We were turned around only an hour into our climb by deep unconsolidated snow, but nonetheless, the hook had been set and for the past three  and a half years this face has always occupied a place somewhere in the back of my mind.

Since my first attempt, I have read a lot of the classic litterature written about the face, seen the recent movies produced about the mountain and to top it off, even kept a link on my favorites page to the North Face webcam.  I guess to some degree I was getting a little obsessive about this climb.  I had spent plenty of time in Europe over the past few years, but this climb seemed to always elude me – good conditions, but no time to climb (or vise versa), bad weather, or no partner.   I had even guided the Eiger on a couple of occasions via different ridges, but there was always something keeping me from a second try at the North Face.

Last week however, I got my chance.  I had time off, was well acclimatized and fit after a summer of guiding, the weather looked perfect, and a call to Grindelwald revealed the conditions looked great – although nobody had been up there to confirm.  I was able to convince a fellow American guide and friend of mine, Tim Connelly, to head over and have a go.  I’ll admit, I wasn’t entirely optimistic and even brought an extra bag along with some sport climbing gear just in case we got shut down.

We left Chamonix at 4am with plans to catch the first train and exit  just before the train enters the famous Eiger tunnel.  From this position it is an easy 30 minute approach and your standing at the base of  perhaps the largest face in Europe.  We planned on the climbing the  1938 first ascent route in two days spending a night at the infamous “Death Bivouac”.  Despite some wrong turns on our drive to Grindelwald, we managed to catch the first train at around 7:30 and we were on our way.

If  I could describe the route in one word I would have to call it an Odyssey.  Upon hiking to the base you are greeted with a couple of memorial plaques – not the most comforting of omens – and thus the journey begins.  The route finding initially is very tricky and you meander through lines of weakness up some improbable looking terrain.  Initially the rock was dry but quickly snow and ice appeared on ledges and we were forced to wear crampons.  The first landmark on the route is the “Difficult Crack,” but arriving here wasn’t as straight forward as we had hoped.  In fact, we did quite a bit of climbing just to arrive at this feature and some of it seemed even “more difficult”…?

From here the route finding becomes more straight forward – even more so considering there were teams in front of us putting a track in the snow – and we progressed upwards almost as if climbing back through history.  We passed many of the  famous pitches and landmarks including: the Hinterstoisser Traverse, First snow field,the Swallows Nest, the Ice Hose, second snow field and then finally arriving at the Death Bivouac.  We enjoyed excellent conditions on the face and the climbing was never too difficult and we covered a lot of ground.

The night we spent on the face was very special for me and something I will remember for a long time.  Spending a night on one of the most historic faces in the world complete with all the triumph and tragedy associated with it, was a very touching experience.  The weather was perfect and we watched a great sunset, ate some soup and slept at one of the best bivy spots I have ever enjoyed.

The second day began with a traverse into the Ramp where the real climbing began.  We did several pitches up this feature  involving a lot of  mixed climbing, awkward squeezes and some pretty scrappy ice climbing.  This section of the climb reminded me of Colorado’s well known ice climb “Bird Brain Boulevard,” except this was really just the start of our day.  Next we climbed up through the Brittle Ledges and Brittle crack to the notorious “Traverse of the Gods.”  I had heard a lot about this section of the route and I’ll be honest I was a bit nervous about this part of the climb -a 150m snow and rock traverse which is offers tons of exposure and very little in the way of protection.

Luckily this section, while exciting, was never very difficult and allowed us relatively quick passage to the famous “white spider” and finally the exit cracks.  Again, the upper part of the route has a reputation for some difficult climbing and we were not let down.  The “Quartz crack,” while short, proved to be quite a challenge – rock climbing, ice climbing, dry-tooling even a little aid all used in about 20 feet – you gotta love alpine climbing.

Upon exiting the “Exit cracks” you are soon on the upper snowfields, which take you to the Mitteleggi ridge and then to the summit.  The final summit ridge is quite spectacular and certainly one of the most beautiful sections of ridge found anywhere in the Alps.  We spent some time on the summit taking in the view and taking in the route we had just done.  The Eiger is home to so much history and after climbing the face, following in the footsteps of so many legends,  it’s hard not to feel in some small way like part of the history yourself.  While I will never know what it was like to climb this route in 1938, I’ll be forever humbled by the courage, determination and talent displayed by its first ascent team.  This is a roue that has stood the test of time and a climb that I will never forget!

In the guiding business, summer is a busy time.  The old adage “make hay while the sun shines,” is a motto that most guides I know live by.  It is not uncommon to work 20-30 days straight or even more.  Nonetheless, no matter what the profession, we all need a break and some time off.  Some people like sandy beaches and umbrellas in their drinks, others prefer cozy cabins and reading by a fireplace.  Ironically, my “get away” from guiding in the mountains usually involves going back into them…

Our trip began at the Torino Hut on the Italian side of Mont Blanc.  Located at around 3,600m this hut allows quick access to the Grand Capucin one of the most acclaimed formations for rock climbing in the Massive.  After a good Italian meal and restful night of sleep, we set out at sunrise intent on climbing “Voyage Selon Gulliver”, a 400m route up the heart of the formation.  This route was a break through when first established in 1982 and is still said to be one of the most classic lines in the range.  Thanks to the lift systems in the Alps, the approach to our route was a mere one hour stroll across the glacier.  We left the hut right at dawn despite high winds and cold temps.  Upon arriving at the south facing wall however, the wind had died and it sun was already warming up the orange granite. 

Indeed this route was a classic.  A mix of face climbing connecting brilliant crack systems takes you more or less right up the center of this magnificent feature.  This “mostly free” style is something I’ve grown increasingly fond of especially during the summer when my legs seem to grow and my arms shrink.  In the end, who cares, as long as you’re enjoying yourself?  In the end, that is exactly what we did.  We moved quickly up our route and made it back well before the last lift.  Yet, had I known this route was merely a warm up for what was to come I probably would have tried to slow the day down and miss the last lift.

After our climb we enjoyed a cold beer and discussed the following day’s options.  Bertrand had heard of a route on the Italian side of the range, “Etoiles Filantes” on the Tour des Jorasses.  This route, located  on the southern shoulder of the famous Grandes Jorasses,  was likened to the Grand Capucin but much more remote and “sauvage” (wild).  He figured that since I am American, the long approach and likely no crowds would be right up my alley.  Maybe I’m getting soft, I’m not sure, but there is a reason why I spend so much time in the Alps.  I really like to spend my time climbing rather than approaching and the lift infrastructure in the Alps makes this very easy to do.  Nonetheless, after another cold adult beverage I was easy to convince and, sometimes,  it is good to approach the old fashioned, by foot.

Day two didn’t begin quite as leisurely as our fist day had: our predawn start was followed by a 1700 vertical meters gain to reach the base of the route .  The approach is steep and involves some interesting glacier navigation and, to top it off, one of the biggest seracs in the entire massif looms above the valley you ascend.  Three and a half hours later we were at the base of the route and the real fun was only just beginning:  450 meters of granite awaited us.

The route we chose for the day was indeed a classic, but also quite sustained.  This route, established by Michel Piola, perhaps one of the most prolific route setters of all time, takes a brilliant line up this majestic feature connecting crack systems via some very improbable slabs. Piola is known for his mastery of slab climbing and it seemed that he was in his prime when he created this gem.  Bolts that were placed were done so quite conservatively, especially for Alps standards, that the climbing was quite engaged and committing. 

Sometimes while rock climbing things just work out, the last piece of gear left on your rack is precisely the size you need, you find that key hold right in the nick of time, or in this case, I ended up with the pitches that suited me best with no premeditation (read: more gear, less scary).  As it turned out on this route, Bertrand ended up with the hard slab pitches while I managed to get the hard crack pitches.  Fortunately for me, I enjoy crack climbing and probably have the most experience with that, but on the other hand, nobody likes hard slab climbing.  Bertrand, however, pulled off the difficult slab pitches flawlessly and our day went very smooth.  We managed to get up and down the route and back down to Courmeyer in time to enjoy another nice Italian meal.   After our 14 hr day and after logging nearly 900m of granite in the past two, it was time for Bertrand to go back to work, myself however, I still had two more days before I started working and the weather was still beautiful.

After a rest day, my wife joined me for one final mission.  We chose a 300m route “La Reprise” on a formation known as the Flamme de Pierre noted as being a stunning crack climb.  Our day began with a train ride and then required about an hour and half approach complete with descending a long series of ladders, crossing a glacier, ascending a long series of ladders, some steep hiking, an alpine meadow and a partridge in a pear tree.   Once again, the granite in the Massif did not disappoint.  The climbing was continuously steep and sustained up beautiful corner and crack systems with a backdrop that could not be beat.  And, to top it off, there were no arguments ending in shouting or crying during our climb (okay, only someone who has climbed with their spouse will find this amusing). 

We intentionally only bought one way train tickets as we were sure we wouldn’t make the last ride down.  Not a big deal really, but it does add another hour and half to the descent.  However, when we rappelled down to our packs, we had exactly one hour to catch the train so decided to give it a try.  With a combination of running and speed descending/ascending ladders we arrived sweaty, tired but relieved to just catch the last train.  A fitting end to a brilliant week of exploring some of the best granite in the range, physically exhausted but mentally refreshed to start work the following day.

Once upon a time, the Bietschhorn was a 4000m peak. This mountain reigns proudly on the northern slopes of the Valais and is the only snowcapped mountain visible from anywhere in the Rhone Valley. Its the pride of the locals. So much so that on old maps, the Bietschhorn reached 4003m. This was thanks to a local Lotschental girl who seduced the geographer who had first measured this mountain into adjusting the elevation to a number greated than 4000m. When the correct altitude – 3934m – was finally put on the maps, the local wrote a threatening letter to the President of the Swiss Confederation, vouching that “The Bietschhorn was and would remain a 4000m peak!”

I first climbed this peak in 2005 during a Swiss Alpine Club training during which we climbed most of the routes one can access from the remote Baltschiederklause hut: The north ridge of the Bietschhorn, the south ridge of the Jaggihorn and the Arete Blanchet on the Lotschentaler Breithorn. I remember being blown away by this pristing remote valley, by the Chamonix like rock quality and last but not least, by the hut keeper’s yummy butter ladden cakes. I knew I would be back.

After the Meije traverse, I had hoped to take Flo on the Obergabelhorn-Zinalrothhorn traverse. Yet, recent storms had brought too much fresh snow at higher elevations. I suggested going into the Baltschieder Valley, which is at a lower elevation and south facing. She was excited to discover a new valley in her own backyard.

The hike to the hut first follows the Bisse de Undra. The southern slopes of the Bernese Alps drop so steeply into the V-shaped Rhone valley that they hardly ever see rain. The fields are therefore deprived of any humidity. As a result, the locals built and dug water runnels to get the water flowing from the glaciers all the way to the fields.

With 1850m of elevation gain, the hike to the Baltschiederklause hut is one of the longest hikes in the Bernese Alps. After the Bisse, the trail climbs to a little ghost village where we had a nice lunch before climbing steeply through fields and moraines to the hut. We arrived just in time to see the sun setting behing the following day’s climb -The Bietschhorn – and on the Mischabel range across the valley.

We woke up the following day to stars in the pitch dark sky. Following little dotted reflectors along the trail (Yup, that is Switzerland for ya!), we walked in the stilness of the night, with no one but us on the way. We reached the glacier by day break. We put crampons on and traversed the 2km long stretch of the Ausser Baltschieder glacier to the base of the North Ridge. After climbing up really poor rock and a 300m long snow/ice face, we reached the ridge proper: a snow and ice knife-edge ridge which leads to a more rocky ridge to the summit.

The view from the summit extends southward from the Monte Rosa to the Mont Blanc range and to the north to the Bernese Oberland (Eiger, Monch, Jungfrau). We climbed back down the way we came up and were back at the hut in the early afternoon, in time for a slice of straight-out-of-the-oven cake.

We woke up the following day to gray skies. We headed anyway, hoping that clouds would burn off as forecasted. The ascent starts litteraly five minutes from the hut and climbs up perfect granite. Half way up, we were caught by a snow storm and strong winds. By then, it would have been longer to go down than to keep going to the summit. The storm died a little and we reached the summit. A quick note in the summit book and we headed down, following cairns to the start of the 6x20m rappels back to the trail.

Again, we were back at the hut in the early afternoon, but we still had a long day ahead of us, having to hike back down to the car, 1850m below. We had a bite to eat and made our way down, marvelling at the surrounding summits and already dreaming of other climbs to guide in the area: The Arete Blanchet on the Lotschentaler Breithorn and the south ridge of the Stockhorn.

I like to think that climbing is in my genes because my parents were climbers. We travelled the world to climb. And it’s still with great pleasure that I go climbing with them. My mother, Martine, is always excited to go on an adventure. At 65 though, her knees are giving her much trouble. So, I try to pick climbs which don’t involve much approach or descent.

This year, we headed to the Cosmiques Ridge on the Aiguille du Midi in Chamonix, France. After a frothy capuccino and still warm croissant in town, we rode the cable car nearly 10’000ft up to the top of the Aiguille du Midi. There, the view stretches out to Mont Blanc and onward to Italy. The Aiguille du Midi is also the gateway to the Vallee Blanche, a classic ski run in the winter, which ends 10’000ft later back in Chamonix.

Hiking out of an ice cave, we made our way down the knife edge snow ridge which drops steeply down 3500ft to the north, and down to the col du midi on the other side. You don’t want to fall down on either side there. The terrain eases up passed the ridge. We contoured the base of the striking south face of Aiguille du Midi, which rises like a bright orange flame out of the glacier below and kept heading west to the start of the ridge proper.

Although I had already done this climb with my mom, she was thrilled and excited, blown away by the beauty of the scenery around, as though she was there for the first time. It felt so special to be here with her. We climbed up mixed terrain, some time on snow, some time on the reputable Chamonix granite. This ridge is climbed and guided so often that locals have drilled holes in the rock to make it easier to climb with crampons. Only in the Alps could you see that! We traversed a snow couloir, contoured gendarmes – one of them has the highest 5.13 crack in the world: Digital Crack – and made it to the crux of the route, a diagonal slanting crack up a used-to-be blank-now-drilled-all-over-wall. This section is always a bottleneck, with people struggling up the 10m high crux. We killed time rehydrating, soaking in the view and enjoying each other’s company until it was our time to climb. My mom made quick work of the section and we climbed on, traversing into the north side of the ridge before reaching the summit, where a crowd of people coming out of the cable car was snapping picture after picture of us.

My parents opened my eyes to climbing and taking my mom on climbs now is not only a way for me to give back, it’s also very rewarding to take such an accomplished climber with me. My mom has pushed the boundaries of woman climbing in her own way when she was younger. She climbed great classic such as the Gervasutti Pillar, the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey, did the first female ascent of the Naranjo de Bulnes in Spain, climbed in Peru, came first in many ski mountaineering competition. She is a true model for me and I am greatful to be able to share time with her in the mountains.

The Matterhorn is certainly the most  iconic mountain in the world. No less. It’s no surprise that everyone wants to stand on its summit. Yet climbing the Matterhorn is no walk in the park. It requires fast climbing and a great sense for route finding.

When Whymper first climbed it in 1864, they started from Zermatt and made it 3/4 of the way up in a day, which is mindblowing considering the times, the gear they had and the very poor rock quality on the climb. When I first attempted the Matterhorn, Iwas 17. My brother had decided to climb it in pure style, starting from Zermatt instead of taking the lift to Schwarzsee. I had no experience back then and it was late in the Fall. We made slow progress and turned around. The next time I visited the Matterhorn was in the winter of 2003 to climb its  great north face – one of the three great north faces in the Alps. We left the hut at noon because of poor weather. We had a twelve hour window of better weather and decided to go for it. We bivouacked below the summit, sitting on a ledge so tiny that each time I fell asleep, I also fell off my ledge. We also lost our lighter and couldn’t make any water or warm food. It was a little epic. Since then, I have stood on the mighty Matterhorn many times. On this guided trip, I was working with a local Swiss guide, Jean Pavillard and American Steve Banks. Our clients were a brother and sister, Alicia and Peter,  from Australia and their friend, Patrick. They had been climbing around Zermatt for a few days, training to get ready for the D-Day. The whole Matterhorn experience is pretty particular.

The local Zermatt guides own the show. On the walls in the hut is written: breakfast 4am, departure 4.20 (underlined indeed). There are so many stories around the Zermatt guides. They have been known to: lock the hut door so that no one would leave before them, send a guide ahead in the wrong direction with a headlamp on while the rest of them went on without lights, just as to lead the other parties astray, be really hard on their clients, etc. Granted, they know the route by heart and are super fast and efficient at climbing it. Yet, there is no need for such attitude. Clients are tied into the rope while still chewing on their morning breakfast slice of bread, with their helmets and harnesses already on. People are all racing for the door, hoping to be the first ones (after the Zermatt guides) to be out the door and race to the start of the climb, 5 mins out the door. There, you wait for your turn to climb up the fixed ropes initiating the climb. It’s not exactly your best wilderness experience, but it’s pretty unique in its own way.

It’s a long ways to the summit: 1200m long to be precise. You need to keep a pretty steady pace the whole way, as it gets harder the higher you go. After the Solvay Hut, the terrain is more exposed, harder to protect in places, and then you get to climb up fixed ropes and neve all the way to the summit.

Although we didn’t summit this time, it was great to be back on that mountain! Looking forward to next time.

The Papillons Rige is a great climb on beautful rock on the Aiguille du Peigne in Chamonix. You reach the base within a 30-45min hike from the Plan de l’Aiguille – the Aiguille du Midi mid station.

Sophie is a doctor in Geneva and the mother of two little children, so she was excited to do a day climb. Last year, we did the Cosmiques Ridge together and the Papillons Ridge seemed like the natural progression. We were in the shade the whole time, which was perfect given that it’s in the 30’s in Chamonix (90F). This ridge offers just the right amount of technical climbing and an amazing view on the north face of the Aiguille du Midi and the Aiguilles Rouges across the valley.

A great day climbing in Chamonix! Merci Sophie!

Ah, La Meije!
La Meije was one of the last great peaks of the Alps to be climbed and the first to be climbed only by French people. Prior to that, English men would hire guides to take them up peaks like the Matterhorn, the Aiguille Verte, etc. So it was with great pride that 19 year old Emmanuel Boileau de Castelnau summitted with Pierre Gaspard and son on August 16, 1877. Before then, many had tried and believed it would centuaries before the peak would be climbed. Each section of the climb has a name, often related to how far the previous climber had climbed. The Pyramide Duhamel was a kairn built by Mr. Duhamel himself, to show how far he had gone. During the first ascent, the crux sections were climbing in….. SOCKS! It was many years before the peak saw a second ascent. The Meije – which in local slang means “the south” because the sun goes over it at noon” – is still to day one of the most beautiful ascents in the Alps!

The weather wasn’t looking good in Chamonix or in Switzerland, so I suggested to my friend/client Floriane to drive south where the sun is (almost) always shining. I had done the climb in 2002, but hadn’t been back to this area since, and I was as excited to guide it as I had been when I first did it. We left from the ski mecca La Grave and climbed the Enfetchores to the Breche de la Meije and down to the Promontoire Hut. The climb follows a 900m long spur/arete to the top of the Grand Pic (3983m… the highest of the Meije traverse peaks), followed by 3x50m rappels into the Breche Zigmondy. It then contours the Dent Zigmondy by traversing into the north face and climbing up cables to a notch, and continues up and down the 2, 3, 4th tooth all the way to the Doigt de Dieu – aka God’s finger. How I love the names in the Oisans – Southern Alps region! Three rappels takes you down on the glacier. From there, the tiny, tiny, tiny but ever so welcoming Aigle Hut is only 30mins away. Day three, we climbed the last summit of the Meije – The Meije Orientale – and then hiked down (loooooong ways down) to Villard d’Arene, and hitched hiked down to La Grave. It snowed overnight and we climbed the Rateau the last day in full on wintery conditions. Here is a photo album to illustrate Flo and I’s four days in the Ecrins Range.

I am taking Floriane into another amazing place this coming WE. Check back for more adventures to come!