La Montagne des
Agneaux (3664m) with Ian Hough – Ecrins Range
This past weekend Ian Hough and
I headed to the Ecrins for his first high-mountain trip since arriving in
Grenoble seven months ago. The Ecrins get me fired up, and I was nervous about
biting off too much too soon for our first outing together. We did our best to
begin at the beginning by spending an afternoon on the Meije glacier working on
avalanche and crevasse rescue skills, and also on skiing through heavy snow
with a heavy pack. Ian’s quick mind sorted out snow anchor construction and 5
to 1 hauling systems in no time, and I soon felt comfortable with the idea of
tying in on a glacier together.
Plan A
involved heading out from the mythical Ailefroide trailhead and skiing up the
Glacier Noir to the Pic Coolidge. We figured that if the access road was closed
there would be snow for us to ski on, and if there was no snow then the road
would be open. As we found out post 5am wakeup, the asphalt on the access road was
bone dry and the gate securely locked. Just as we were deciding what to do, a
local drove up, coolly unlocked the padlock and drove on through. For a second
we thought we had hit the jackpot, only to see him stop the car and stroll back
to lock the gate – sorry boys, locals only.
Rather than
trudge up 10km of pavement, we decided to reroute our plan for the weekend –
“if you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough” is a phrase I tend to live by,
but in this case forcing it just seemed too stupid. So we laid out the map on
the hood of the Chipie and weighed our options.
I noticed a
valley called the Vallon du Grand Tabuc, running from a village named
Monetier-les-Bains and providing what looked like relatively rapid access to the
Montagne des Agneaux. In 2006, Christophe and I got turned around on les
Agneaux while trying to ski it from the NW side, and the idea of another
attempt six years later appealed to me. In the trusty, sandbagged “Easy
Alpinism in les Ecrins” guidebook, Ian and I found that we could access the
regular route of les Agneaux by way of this Vallon du Grand Tabuc. Following
the ski approach, the route description mentioned some steep snow early on
followed by 2c rock (you know, your standard pitch of 5.3d), all wrapped up in
the modest grade of Peu Difficile (truc de PD bien évidemment…). This plan
would enable most of our initial objectives, minus the 20km round trip on
pavement: snow camping in a spectacular setting, skiing up a glacier, and
getting on top of big summit in les Ecrins. Despite the extra driving and
delayed start, we were both psyched and committed to the new plan.
After
navigating the complex array of ski lifts, chalet complexes and faux parking
lots, we found what had to be the trailhead and began suiting up. Ian was
struck by the bizarreness of putting on goretex pants, harnesses, heavy packs
and ski boots in a sunny field surrounded by families going about their weekend
stroll through the village. And he’s right, it’s a weird sport. The contrast
between the demands of the high mountain world a few kilometers away and the
serenity of the valley floor below is difficult to overstate, and the low
trailheads and general lack of tram access in les Ecrins force you to travel
from one world to the next by putting one foot in front of the other.
The skin up
to our bivy site was just right. Sunny but not too hot, efficient but not too
steep, and above all not so far that we felt we had to rush. Arriving in the
middle of the afternoon left us with plenty of time to play sandbox and build a
righteous tent platform, not to mention eat dinner and crawl into sleeping bags
at the rowdy hour of 7pm. After much discussion of time estimates we could only
guess at, we decided to set the alarm for 2:45am.
Alpine
starts are a trial even when you know more or less what’s coming. Ian was
remarkably patient with the tedious process of melting snow for breakfast,
reluctantly leaving and then packing your sleeping bag and the tent, and then
figuring out which trinkets you need for the day ahead and which you don’t, all
by the harsh light of a headlamp. I find that the stress and discomfort of an
alpine start make the actual motion of forward progress up the mountain seem
all the more simple and peaceful.
Finally, you’ve got just what’s in your pack, the logistics are over,
and it’s time to play ball.
The first
few hundred meters of moving up the glacier went quickly and easily. Just as
dawn began to emerge on the horizon, we began skiing up the 40-45° headwall
that I’m sure both of us were thinking about the night before in the tent.
Thankfully, the snow stayed soft and allowed for a secure skin track that took
the path of least resistance between bits of exposed rock and serac. When we
reached the glacial plateau at 3000m, the early morning sun brilliantly lit up
our surroundings and reminded us that we were now in the inner sanctum of les
Ecrins.
I
thoroughly enjoyed track-setting across a fresh canvas of such beautiful slopes,
and for both us I think those couple hours of winding up the glacier were among
the most beautiful of the trip. Just before 9am we found ourselves at the base
of the Col Tuckett and the start of the summit ridge. We had decided on an 11am
turnaround time, so it seemed like the right move to carry on.
The first pitch involved
surprisingly steep snow and a scrappy cornice exit in order to then straddle
the col. As I belayed Ian up, I was fully ready (although of course I would
have been bummed) for him to say, “you know what, I don’t need to do this” and
to lower him right back down to our skis. He moved with style and ease though
and even seemed to be enjoying himself, and so we played on. The 2c slab in ski
boots and crampons was a good dose of hero climbing, which was then followed by
an airy but straightforward ridge romp to the summit. 11:02am, and we were hanging
out on the summit, slurping GU and oggling the glaciated burl around us. Both
of us felt a little light headed from thirst and altitude, but overall we were
in pretty good shape. I was amazed that Ian had the strength and calm to get up
there on his first climb up high.
Down-climbing mixed rock and snow
with big fall consequences is a particular medium that recreaters in the
Northeast rarely encounter. Cragging back home, one generally climbs up and then
rappels or walks down through the woods, and the practice of spidering down the
same way one went up is rarely part of the program (then again, the climbing is
usually wicked hard). I was a bit
worried about how this part of the game might go. I had left gear and anchors
for the last stretch of the ridge, and so Ian was able to clip the rope through
these points as I did my best to provide a minimum of assurance from a slip or
misstep from above. Once again, and to his credit, Ian was solid and took the
time he needed to be secure on his feet. Once we arrived safely at the top of
ye olde 5.3d crux, we decided to sling a prominent horn and descend from there.
I lowered Ian a full rope length and was able to beam him to the security of
the snow slopes below. I then rapped half of that distance and did a bit of
extra down-climbing to join him and our skis.
I love skiing!!! It is the
coolest and the most efficient. In just a couple hours, we schussed our way
down about 7,000 feet of mountain, stopping midway to recover our bivy gear
before gliding all the way to the car and the world we had left only the day
before. Olivier would be pleased to know that our first move upon returning to
the Chipie was to start pounding Coca Cola – beer would have been delicious but
also completely incapacitating.
I’m curious
to see how this adventure sits with Ian. It was a big first dose, and a pretty
impressive achievement for somebody’s first rodeo. I was hesitant to pose the
question in the dehydrated and bonked aftermath of our day – “so, do you want
to do more of this?” I hope he does, because I thoroughly enjoyed his company
up there and am psyched by the prospect of future adventures together.
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| Ian on the home stretch of the summit ridge with the Glacier des Violettes of the Mont Pelvoux in the background. |
I were both very excited to show her a window into our lives here (though I think my excitement trumped Brads...). During her all too brief visit, we enjoyed foliage which reportedly rivaled Vermont's this year, finally checked out the Musée de Grenoble for a casual viewing of
