There are few things that Brad loves more than
- climbing classic and obscure routes in the Ecrins
- creating fancy visuals
- reading obscure mountain related texts and finding quotations that speak to him
- publishing blog posts
...which is why he labored for hours trying to set me up for success on this blog post.
Three consecutive weekends of climbing long alpine routes established before 1935? Check! Eye-catching visuals that geographically situate our latest adventures? Check! Obscure quotation from old-school French alpinist that only a few French people and Alex MacPhail know of? Check! An artfully written blog post? Get with it, Hillary!
So, here I am to recount the context of some of our latest adventures in the realm moderately radical climbing. I cannot emphasize enough how much we love the eastern side of the Ecrins and the world's most beautiful parking lot (see climbs on Barre des Ecrins, Pelvoux, Barre Noir, etc). However, our growing acceptance of 'weekend warrior' status has led to exploration of some slightly closer adventure terrain, and thus, we've found ourselves three times this fall in the Vallée du Vénéon--on the western side of the the Ecrins. We've been to the Vénéon before--we visited with Gus, Eileen and Kyle and Caryn-- but as we delve deeper into what the valley has to offer, our appreciation of it grows and grows--especially as we begin to understand the valley's history.
What's funny about the Vallée du Vénéon is that while it is over an hour closer to Grenoble by car than Ailefroide, geographically speaking, it is right next door--with only a 4,000m peak separating one valley from the other. Leaving Bourg d'Oisans, the road cuts up the valley into the Ecrins following the glacial blue Vénéon river, climbing precipitous switchbacks between steep and dramatic valley walls before opening back up onto an alluvial plain near its terminus at La Bérarde. The road through the Vénéon was constructed in sections between 1881 and 1921 not so much to serve the communities along the way, but rather as a means to access La Bérarde. Because the valley is so narrow and so inhospitable in winter (the road remains closed after Saint-Christophe-en-Oisans in the winter), agriculture has never been especially successful, and year-round residency has been limited. Neither the local population nor the automobile tourist were the target audiences for the road, rather, a very specific population served to gain from it's construction: the very first weekend warriors.
In his article on La route de La Bérarde in the 1922 Revue de géographie alpine, André Allix points out that from the perspective of the automobile tourist, the road to La Bérarde is 'mediocre'. From the road, "the tourist barely has the opportunity to admire the sheer cliffs, hanging valleys and scree fields. The glaciers are rarely visible, and the summits even less so..." precisely because they are too close. "The abrupt difference in altitude that defines the majesty of these peaks also condemns the automobile to drive around in the bottom of a hole." Long before construction of the road was completed, the Vallée du Vénéon was appreciated for it's unparalleled access to the surrounding mountains. In 1913, Parc de La Bérarde was named France's first national park (though that qualification was later removed), and local alpine clubs had already set up hostels and huts to accommodate climbers. The eventual construction of the road to La Bérarde "had no other role than to save the alpinist six useless hours of walking on a herd-path to arrive at the foot of the mountains. From Grenoble, now in a half-day--everything is right there--allowing the people of the Dauphiné to access, with dignity, the high mountains, rivaling Savoie and Switzerland."**
Today, we are thankful for this history which allows us, like Jacques Boell and the alpinists of the early 20th century, to access the Vénéon and its too-proximate-to-see-from-the-road mountains from Grenoble. We are also thankful that La Bérarde did not, as originally intended by the local Bridge and Road Authority, turn into a tourist mecca on the scale of "Zermatt et Saint-Moritz".
**I hope that Monsieur Allix, were he still alive, would forgive my unauthorized translations from his article which was originally published in French
I. Pointe d'Amont (3338m) - Arête nord - III, D, 5.8
first climbed 1932
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| Ambiance nordwand above the Glacier Est du Diable. |
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| In the sun at last after a long and snowy ascent up the north ridge. |
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| Descending the regular route of the Aiguille Centrale du Soreiller (3338m). |
II. Mont Gioberney (3352m) - Arête nord est - PD, II, 45°
first climbed 1873
| Sunset from the hut on the Tours de Bonnepierre, the Dôme de Neige des Ecrins, and just barely the Barre (left to right). |
| With Thibaut strolling up the northeast arête with les Bans (3669m) across the way. |
III. Tête des Fétoules (3458m) - Arête ouest - III, D, 5.8
first climbed 1934
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| Our bivy site at the Lac des Fétoules. |
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| "Du rocher qui fait moyennement rêver" - traversing the Carquois gendarme. |
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| Hillary on the home stretch of the Tête des Fétoules, after 1500' of climbing with the Vénéon below. |










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