Kyle Sharfe & Caryn Rouse establish the Missoula-Grenoble connection

Kyle is not one for idle small talk. Not having seen one another since a winter trip to Katahdin five years prior, we got to talking about the possibility of a trip in the Alps together at Goudi and Lindsey's wedding last summer. Casual banter turned into booked airfare for both Kyle and his girlfriend Caryn pretty quickly, and on July 3, I found myself flying low in the Chipie across the Swiss border to the Geneva airport, doing my best to avoid speed radar, customs and expensive Swiss highway permits. The two of them were incredibly psyched and upbeat on the tail end of their marathon journey from Montana. With only one "pull over I might puke" stop, we made it to the comfortable chaos of downtown Chamonix and kicked off what turned out to be an amazing 12 days together.

During the first three days of the trip, Caryn bravely tackled the Chamonix-Courmayeur stretch of the Tour du Mont Blanc solo. Meanwhile, unstable weather and sloppy high mountain conditions prompted Kyle and I to re-route from lofty snow/ice/mixed objectives to lower, safer rock climbing at the Envers des Aiguilles hut (dedicated readers will note that the exact same thing happened last year with Olivier). As the weather and our climbing groove improved day by day, we implemented a steady crescendo that began with 3-4 pitch cragging and culminated with an 18-hour epic on the once classic, uber-sandbagged Ryan Arête on the east face of the Aiguille du Plan.

I've been mostly avoiding or loosely translating climbing grades up to now, but am finding the subject hard to avoid. Here is a rough conversion chart for Frenchie-YDS grades from the Alpinist website. Note that grades from a route done in 1908 (Ryan Arête) and a 2004 Michel Piola route (les Fleurs du Mal) are on completely different scales.

F    -  "easy"
PD -  a bit difficult
AD - pretty difficult
D    - difficult
TD  - very difficult
ED  - extremely difficult
ABO - abominable!


Dalles Inférieures de l'Envers des Aiguilles  -  20,000 lieux sous la neige  -  200m, TD, 6b

Day 1 splitter crack climbing (with a comfortably bolted approach, Chamonix style). 

Kyle busting sweet moves, and getting sun burned, right off the plane.
The Mer de Glace and the Dent du Géant are in the background. 

Pointe des Nantillons (3000m)  -  Les Fleurs du Mal  -  450m, ED-, 6b+

We climbed 14 pitches through mist and cloud, getting rinsed just as we topped out. The rappels
happened fast in cold pouring rain and rumbling thunder, fortunately without any stuck ropes. 

Aiguille du Plan (3673m)  -  Ryan Arête  -  550m, D+, 5b (sandbagged!!)

Navigating the 'schrund at dawn. Access to this route is becoming increasingly
complex due to the thinning of the Blaitière Glacier. 

Having fun around hour ten. During the morning hours we got lost in a loose, snowy gully, nearly
retreated, and ended up rallying to enjoy classic pitches such as this steep grovel chimney.

Kyle leads the last pitch, wicked hard and almost certainly off-route, close to sunset.  Thanks to Kyle for doing the lion's share of the leading for the latter part of the route when we were in overtime. Note the alpen glow underway on the Mont Blanc du Tacul  (4248m).

Kyle and I ended up "exploding the schedule" due to tough conditions and our route finding errors down low, and also what ended up being much harder climbing than anticipated. We decided to pitch it out down low in our sopping wet rock shoes, and in retrospect I think we would have been better off simul-climbing in mountain boots and just getting the heck out of there. Finding the balance between the risk that accompanies prolonged exposure and the higher immediate consequences of simul-climbing, especially when conditions aren't ideal, is not easy.

 Faced with the choice of doing an AD ridge traverse to get to the safety of the heated bathrooms at the Aiguille du Midi or descending to the Requin hut, we opted for the latter. Thankfully there was a well-established track on the crevassed Envers du Plan Glacier, and just after midnight we dropped into a packed, humid bunkroom and called it a night. Waking up to fresh bread and a bowl of Nutella, I definitely found myself appreciating the wonders of alpine civilization. 

Junk show on the ladders, which have been installed to access the Mer de Glace post glacial retreat. 

Hillary! She finished up the school year that Friday and rallied up to Cham to squeeze in an epic trail run and greet us.

Pic Coolidge (3775m)  - South Ridge (voie normale)  -  450m, F

As a happy unit of four, we embarked to la Bérarde and hiked up to the Temple des Ecrins hut for a couple-night stay. Climbing Pic Coolidge as a two teams of two was an ideal objective for the four of us -- Caryn rocked it and summited her first peak in the Alps with style and ease. 

Up and at it pre-dawn. 

Kyle and Caryn moving up the glacier below. 

Coup de Sabre and the Pic Sans Nom looming large as Hill leads the descent. 

Sicktory! Back at the hut in time for lunch.

Hill and Caryn hiked up to the Refuge de la Pilatte below les Bans (3669m), which look Burly. 

Crazy little dude who lives at the Temple des Ecrins. 

 Barre des Ecrins (4102m)  -  S => N Traverse  -  620m, AD

The grand finale for Kyle and me took the form of traversing the Barre des Ecrins, the highest peak in the range and the only 4000m peak in the Ecrins. Little did we know that three other rope teams also decided to climb the route that day, including 4 "alpine hunters" (chasseurs alpins) from the French military. In the post-2am wakeup rat race, Kyle and I ended up  last in line at the base of the route watching as falling rocks funneled constantly down the beginning of the climb. The mountain troops appeared to treat this situation as a standard combat setting and pressed on at great risk, but Kyle and I opted to spend an hour waiting it out and getting cold in the name of staying whole. After the rockfall abated, we kicked off the climb at 7:30 am and everything flowed smoothly from there. The first 200m involve pitches of straightforward rock, followed by 400m of steep snow. On top by noon, it was definitely one of the most beautiful and spectacular climbs I've done. 

The Col des Avalanches (3500m) at dawn. Caryn and Hill got up with us at 2 and accompanied
us for most of the approach up the Glacier du Vallon de Pilatte. 

Is it good?

It's good. 

Topping out the summit ridge. 

Looking down the final snow slopes of the south face. Ailefroide and Pic Coolidge "mettent l'ambiance."

It definitely helped that Hill and I had been up here a year ago -- I knew the ridge would go fast!

Descent tracks down the north-face regular route. 

Happily descending the Vallon de Bonnepierre with the Dôme des Ecrins capping the skyline.
We descended through the gunsight notch on the left (Col de Ecrins, 3367m).

Eperon Nord de la Grande Glière (3393m) with Tof - Vanoise

Content with progress over the past three months, my advisor at the Laboratoire d'Ecologie Alpine (LECA) let me take a couple days off to play hooky with Tof in the Vanoise mountains. I think we can all agree that it's important to step out of the office and experience the altitudinal gradient from time to time...  

The éperon nord (northern spur) follows the sun/shadow line for about 2000 vertical feet up to the perched snow field.

What's left of the Glacier Nord de la Glière still offers up some heady ambiance.  The route was never too hard (4c max), but definitely "grandiose" while offering a healthy dose of loose rock and routefinding challenges. 

A rare midweek summit grin!

The south side: we descended the ridge on the right (airy downclimbing, no rappels) and then walked out the valley. Tof was tagged by a falling rock early on in the day and the bruise began to really bother him on the descent...  for the record he did manage to guide three clients the following day hiking in the Chartreuse!

***Friends Kyle Scharfe and Caryn Rouse arrive from Montana this Tuesday -- the plan is to get it in Chamonix for 4-5 days and then transition south for an extended session in les Ecrins. Super psyched!!

Retour de la cordée Brad & Hillary: Roche de la Muzelle (3464m), les Ecrins

Regular readers of this blog I'm sure have noticed by now a consistent trend over the past several months: obscure, glaciated 3000m peaks in les Ecrins. Sure bets include long approaches,  rock that is difficult to protect and often loose, loss of pitons and slings on descents, "locals only" route-finding, and long days out far from the alpin' crowds swarming elsewhere. This latest chapter recounts Hillary and my first climb together since the dark days of mid-winter. 

Hill and I scrambled out of Grenoble at 4:30 on Friday afternoon and found ourselves an hour later in Bourg d'Arud at the beginning of the Véneon valley. Residents peered out their windows with skepticism as we began the 4-hour (book time), +1200m hike up to the Lac de la Muzelle at the tardy hour of 6:30pm. Hill set a relentless pace as usual, and I soon found myself redlined trying to keep up, charging up switchbacks in just boxers and mountain boots. 

One upside to beginning at 900m is the opportunity to see all stages (or "floors") of the mountain environment. We began in the "étage montagnard" which features old stone foundations and mixed beech and fir forest, followed by the "étage subalpin," a mosaic of pine, alder, juniper and grasses frequently ravaged by landslides and avalanches, and finally emerged at the beginning of the "étage alpin" at around the 2000m mark. Here the tree line is suppressed by grazing in the summer, making for   a smooth carpet of alpine sedge that eventually transitions to talus and névé around 2400m. Our destination was the Refuge de la Muzelle, perched on a lake at 2115m.

Our stay at the hut was cut short by the alarm sounding at 3:30 am. I think this moment - rallying for an alpine start after a long week - is the consistent crux of weekend warriordom. There is just no way your body is going to support the decision to get up and go at this juncture. Things started to make sense at sunrise, when the snow and clouds became lit with soft light. The clear night had made for a solid refreeze, which allowed us to march across the hanging glacier leaving only the faint tracks of our crampons. I love the feeling up there of being at the right place at the right time, even if the early-morning rendez vous is not easy to make. Especially during the summer season and without skis, it is essential to play by the rules and be on the glacier when the snow bridges are "locked up" and the mountain is at its safest. 

Hill deserves huge credit for rallying for a day that ended up being a lot harder than planned. After climbing a couloir up the north face, we embarked on a descent down the regular route of the northeast ridge. The combination of down-climbing, improvised anchors and exploratory rappels made for a heady brew of adventure and uncertainty. We both felt the stress and I was ready for Hillary to throw a well-justified tantrum, but instead she stayed positive and patiently kept piecing it together. Four hours after leaving the summit, it felt really good to touch down on the glacier and be back in "one foot in front of the other" terrain. Most of all it was awesome to be back in the mountains with Hill, and I'm so grateful that we're able to keep sharing time up there. 

Hillary taking her single mountain axe higher and steeper than called for in the catalog. 

Sporting our faux Mammut puffies that Jean Mi acquired during his most recent trip to Nepal.

We are ready to accept sponsorship.

Note the choice slung horn lower left.

MADE IN CHARTREUSE: Arch hunting with Christophe

            As part of the “prealps,” summits in the Chartreuse are far from the highest or the most prestigious relative to the Grenoble area offerings. The succeed and leave approach has little merit here, where skiing and climbing objectives are quickly eclipsed by the higher peaks of les Ecrins or the Mont Blanc range. On several occasions I’ve shown up for a casual outing in the Chartreuse, feeling like the real deal after a recent trip to this or that peak, only to become completely lost in the Chartreusien maze of forest and crag. The endless limestone cliff bands offer up a lifetime’s worth of poorly protected choss climbing, and opportunities for never-to-be repeated first ascents abound. At best the skiing is high-quality minigolf, while at worst it can rival the suffering and frustration of a misadventure backcountry skiing in the Adirondacks. My friend Darin and I still haven’t forgiven Christophe for insisting that we head to the Chartreuse on a stable, bluebird powder day this past March, a decision that lead to our getting cliffed out and turned around in a thick forest at 1600m (many trailheads in the region start at 2000!).

            I nonetheless look forward to visits to the Chartreuse in all seasons, and with Christophe in particular, perhaps because the pursuit of adventure in a backwater massif makes me feel at home.  And in addition to being a world class hiking venue, the wild limestone topography of the Chartreuse offers up an activity that can’t be found in the higher ranges:  arch hunting.  This past Saturday, Christophe motivated me for a nine-hour circuit roaming airy chamois trails in search of the perfect frame looking north across the Grésivaudan valley to Mont Blanc. 

Looking northwest toward the Lances de Malissard and the plateau that is the crown jewel of the park. 

Ham, Anyone???

Northern Chartreuse--May 2011

Recently, loads of work and English lessons on Saturdays has yielded little time for me in the high mountains.   While Grenoble's proximity to big glaciated peaks is probably unrivaled by any other comparable city, a single day (without a fat wallet) doesn't allow for too much exploration on high.

And though I do find myself looking at photos of Brad and Ian's most recent outing with pangs of envy, my new, stricter schedule has allowed me just enough time to begin to pursue a new activity: trail running.

To be fair, trail running isn't completely new to me: I had a short burst of interest and success two years ago in Keene Valley.  But until recently, it had been some time since I'd quickened the pace from a heavily burdened slog to a jog.

A few weeks ago, I convinced Brad to agree to sign up with me for a big race in the Chartreuse on June 24.  And since then, we've begun a casual training schedule involving short runs up the Bastille and occasional long circuits slightly further afield.  For Brad, this activity is primarily viewed as a great way to get in/stay in shape for this summer's alpine climbing.   It would be hard to pin down the primary motivation for me (an uncertainty which is likely the cause of my undisciplined training) but I'm currently content to explore some new turf and maintain fitness in a relatively low-risk environment.

Last weekend, while Brad and Ian struck off into the wilds of the Glacier Noir, I kept things closer to home, putting in a full work day on Saturday and intending to exercise on Sunday.  Because I already had a long run on the docket for Sunday, it didn't take much convincing for our friend Gaspard (who is a serious and accomplished runner) to persuade me to enter a race with him.   After a big pasta (and beer and tiramisu) dinner on Saturday, we agreed to meet at 7am Sunday to pick up another friend, and head up to Quaix-en-Chartreuse for the race.

Map of the race course with
 Chez Nous added for reference

This year was the second annual Trail des Balcons du Sud de Chartreuse with several circuits of differing lengths and climbs.  Gaspard and I signed up for the 25km/1400m vertical gain race, and found places among the 200+ other runners at the starting line.   Intimidated by a well equipped and very serious looking crowd that took of like rockets at the beginning of the race, I decided not to get too competitive, and just to look at it as a training run in which just finishing would count as a victory.

Chugging along with no watch to monitor my time or my rate, I ran at my own rhythm, picking up time on the steep uphills and getting smoked on the downhills and flats.  However, after being congratulated several times along the way as "la première femme!" I began to realize that my plodding along was a more competitive pace than I had anticipated.  I ran the rest of the race without trying to push too hard, but keeping in mind that there might be a band of tough chicks chomping at my heels at any minute.   I played leap frog with groups of men--passing them while climbing and being passed by them while descending--from whom I received enthusiastic encouragement.

On the podium buckling under the weight of my leg of ham

Gaspard (who finished 12 minutes before me) met me around the cornerfrom the end and escorted me as I mustered what was left of my energy for an all out sprint to the finish line.  Race volunteers thrust a congratulatory sausage into my hand for finishing and ushered me past the festive brass band, directing me toward the giant spread of post-race snacks.

I spent the next hour enthusiastically trying to eat and drink back the calories I burned running while waiting for the awards ceremony.

Please note 'Excaliber', the 12" chef's knife Julian
gave me for graduation--it gives a good sense of scale 

At that point I  knew that I had pulled off a total coup in sneaking ahead of the other female competitors, but for lack of a timepiece, I didn't know how long the course had taken me, nor how far ahead I was.   When I climbed up on the make-shift podium I learned that I'd finished in 2 hours and 43 minutes, with a significant margin.  I also learned that the prize for winning (along with a somewhat silly trophy) was an impressive 13 pound jamon serrano, or Spanish cured ham, a relative to Italy's prosciutto.

All told, the race experience was a very positive one, and I'm thankful that Gaspard convinced me to come out.  And if if the fun of running wasn't enough to encourage me to keep at it, the possibility of winning enough ham for a few months certainly upped my interest level.

In the mean time, I'd like to extend a formal invitation to our pork-eating blog readers to come on over and help us to eat our ham!

Until the next time, we'll be here, fat and happy.

Couloir Dérobé (the undressed couloir?)  with Ian Hough - Pic Coolidge, les Ecrins

The money shot traversing out to Peak 3343 on the NE shoulder of Pic Coolidge. The Mont Pelvoux is the
big daddy across the way. 

As the name might suggest, it's hard to get a good look at the line from top to bottom. We summited the smaller peak on the left. Pic Coolidge (3775m) is up and right, and would have involved at least another four hours of ridge climbing. 

 Ian, gettin' it in the
 cooler! Definitely
 sustained 50° with
 a couple of cruxes
thrown in here and there.

Dwarfed would be an understatement... our little tent dominated by the south face of the Barre des Ecrins (4101m) --
potentially a project for this summer?? 

Roche Faurio (3730m): Versant Sud Direct

Getting Back on the Horse: Anniversary on the Glacier Blanc

Traversing at the base of Roche Faurio, with the Barre in the background

After a month-and-a-half-long hiatus from the mountains(for me), Brad and I decided to take advantage of a layer of new snow, a sunny weekend, and the opening of the Ailefroide trailhead  to venture back into the "inner sanctum" of the Glacier Blanc.  I kicked off my "spring break" and Brad took advantage of the three-day weekend to celebrate our 4-year anniversary on high. 

The last time we traveled up the Ailefroide valley was in July, and I remember gushing about it. Looking back at my blog post, I declared it "the most beautiful parking lot in the world!"  And, as it turns out, even in the brown shoulder season of March, Ailefroide is still pretty darn beautiful.

Evening view of Mont Pelvoux from
Refuge du Glacier Blanc....someday.... 

Sunday afternoon, we began our approach to the hut on skis, traversing the big glacial flood plane and then strapping the skis to our packs while we mounted the steep switchbacking trail out of the valley.  As the gnarled toe of the glacier came into view, so too did the Refuge du Glacier Blanc--looking dwarfed by the toothy seracs off to its left.

We'd had our suspicions since searching for a space in a packed parking lot, but arriving at the hut confirmed that we were not the only folks who decided to take the three day Easter weekend (the French take 'Easter Monday' as a holiday) to venture into the hills. A warm and loud refuge filled with some 75 enthusiasts bustled through the evening hours, but quieted down quickly as everyone remembered the business-as-usual wake-up times of 4 and 5am.

Descent on the Glacier Blanc

Your average couple probably wouldn't find sleeping in a crowded sweaty snore-filled bunkroom and a 5am wake-up to begin a challenging ski in the dark to be a romantic way to celebrate their anniversary, but I guess you could say that Brad and I are not your average couple...(though we are probably in better company than you would think up here in the Alps...).

Brad stands proudly in front of Les Agneaux (see last post)

The initial climb was a little icy but we soon found ourselves on the big open Glacier Blanc looking up at the Barre.  Our objective, Roche Faurio, was just to the south, facing Les Ecrins' biggest peaks.   Several other teams were heading in the same direction, but we were able to make good time and get out of the rat race.  From the base of the climb, we continued to work our way quickly up the hill, thanks to the skin tracks of those that came before us.  We joined two guided parties on the ante-cime just after 11 o'clock.   Making our way up as high as the snow would allow, we looked at the final rocky scramble to the true summit before deeming it too exposed for the gear we brought. Despite the sunny weather, the wind was strong, so we shared a quick happy anniversary kiss and we began our transition to descent mode.

Serac-side skiing on the way back to the refuge. 

Our ski back down to the refuge had a little of everything--starting on firm snow and transitioning into a few glorious powder turns; then hitting the big flats across the glacier before picking up some great spring-skiing corn snow conditions to round things out.  The last hundred meters or so included some incredible turns on low-angle terrain with the most ridiculous setting--sneaking down next to giant seracs and shredding above the jumbled toe of the glacier. 

Happy to be back on skis

Returning to the refuge, we stretched out in the sun, nearly 1200m lower than where we had just been.  We ate the obligatory sausage, cheese and bread lunch (not that I'm complaining!) and then struggled to motivate ourselves to leave such a beautiful place.

When the snow runs out 

We arrived back at the car barely 24 hours after we'd left it and packed ourselves back in for the beautiful trip back to Grenoble.  I fought back my body's urges to sleep (defense mechanism against the winding roads) and enjoyed the ride back with Brad, discussing our safe and successful trip.  Before heading up the mountain, there had been some discussion and anxiety over how easily I'd be able to get back into the high mountains, and whether or not previous experiences would dampen my enthusiasm.  This tour was the perfect way for me to "get back on the horse" by testing just one thing at a time.  We skied terrain that wasn't too physically challenging, but that brought me back into the ambiance of the big mountains, tested my mental readiness and saw where my limits are.  While I wasn't chomping at the bit to try an exposed ridge scramble, I was thrilled to ski in a serious alpine setting, and re-ignite my love of the mountains.  And, I am pleased to report that the passion is still there, and I'm scheming and feeling excited about the all of the adventures that are sure to come.

"Si la montagne te laisse passer comme ça, c'est qu'elle a envie de te revoir"   --Thibaut Capblancq