Sending Heavy in Chamonix with Olivier: Grandes Jorasses Traverse

Olivier and I have been scheming about a week of climbing together for about a year, and stoke levels were very high going into our trip. We kicked things off with the Arête Forbes on the Aiguille du Chardonnet, and managed to smoke the book time with a 6-hour round trip. After a rainy day of reading topos and drinking espresso, we decided that it would be a good idea to embark on an ambitious traverse from the Dent du Géant straight on through to the Grandes Jorasses.

Our plan was to do an open bivy the first night at the beginning of the Arête Rochefort, sleep at the unstaffed hut at the Col des Jorasses the second, sleep on the summit of the Walker our third night, and then bang out the long descent first thing in the morning on the fourth day. All of this we did, but not without major struggle. In part due to lots of lingering snow, Day 2 was longer and more stressful than we anticipated, and Day 3 was probably the most demanding day I've ever spent in the mountains. As the sun set and the route was far from over, we both acknowledged that perhaps this time we'd bitten off a bit too much. Even if we were slow, I will say that we succeeded in taking the time to make things as a safe as possible and also in keeping spirits high. We were all positive energy, swopping leads and sharing the difficulties 100%, and I couldn't have asked for a more solid climbing partner up there.

Day 1: sunset cruise up the Dent du Géant (4013m).

The massive fixed rope draped over perfect, protectable rock was a bit weird -- given that we started
climbing at 5pm I didn't hesitate at times to haul away in the name of making quick headway. 

The latest in a growing collection of religious undertone mountain shots on our blog... the Virgin Mary presides from the summit of the Dent du Géant over the ridge that would occupy us for the next two days: Arête de Rochefort in the foreground, followed by the Grandes Jorasses and Point Walker at the far end.  

Olivier psyched on the last rays of sunshine at our first bivy. 

Day 2: Starting a long day of standing on big cornices and hoping for the best... beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

Steep snow on the way to the summit of the Dome de Rochefort (4015m).  

 First guests of the season at the mythical Canzio Bivouac at the Col des Jorasses (3825m).

On the way to the summit of Point Young, the first of seven 4000m peaks on the Jorasses ridge.  Later on
we missed a right-hand turn off the ridge and ended up embarking on a 4-hour detour... fait chier!!

Lots of lingering snow explained why we were alone on route, and also slowed everything way down. 

Endless tricky arête wrangling...

Soup break at 10pm, after 14 hours of non-stop climbing. We kept at it until 2am, when finally we arrived at the end of the difficulties at the col between Points Whymper and Walker. I will never forget the surreal feeling of being gripped on a knife edge snow ridge at 1am and hearing the sound of base and partying wafting up from Courmayeur...

After three hours of rest, dawn at the bivy looking southeast into Italy.

Taking it to the summit of the Walker on the morning of Day 4.

Looking back on our tracks from the night before, with the Aiguille du Midi in the background. 

Seven hours down the regular route of the Grandes Jorasses and back to Courmayeur. 

Just another weekend for Olivier, bien sûr!!

Getting stuffed on the Aiguille Verte – Chamonix

In a rare break in the clouds when I got up to pee, I took this photo of our planned route (the Couturier
Couloir, right down the middle) and got so excited it took me about an hour to fall back asleep.  

Inspired by Hillary's up front account of not winning her race back in May, here is the tale of my failure  in the mountains this past weekend. Still, she made the podium and we didn't even begin our route, so maybe I'm pushing the comparison. The main message is that often for every post about a cool summit there are two or three wiffs that don't get mentioned, and that here in Alps we can't always get what we want...

As is the case for most climbers around here, the Verte has loomed large in my imagination for a couple years now. Every route on this 4000m giant, which presides over the Drus and catches one’s eye as soon as you enter the valley, is both beautiful and difficult. The descent is notoriously tricky: either you are on top at dawn and rally down the south-facing Whymper Couloir before the heat, or you embark on a 6-8 hour mission down the Arête du Moine.  Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved to have succeed on the first try this past weekend, but it was not to be…

Rui hiking past the terminus of the upper tier of the Argentière Glacier. Until 2003
the now exposed rock remained covered in ice. 

Above: A burst of color in an otherw-
ise stark landscape -- Primula hirsuta

Left: Arriving at the refuge d'Argent-
ière with glaciated big daddy's
in every direction. 

Due to the early-summer closure of the Grands Montets tram, on Saturday my friend Rui and I hiked for five and half hours instead of an hour and a half, beginning at the beginning all the way down in the valley floor. Getting to the refuge d’Argentière on foot nonetheless had its own appeal, and was certainly cheaper than a standard Chamonix weekend. We spent the early evening on the porch of the hut watching an alpine strip tease take place as the grand north faces of the Courtes and Droites revealed bits and pieces before receding back into the clouds. These very same clouds had us both worried as we called it a night at the rowdy hour of 8pm, and sure enough when we were up and at it at 1am the following morning the snow was only superficially frozen. Hoping for a better refreeze up higher, we persevered to the bergschrund and the beginning of the route at 3200m, only to find that the snow still wasn’t locked up. We were starting to gear up and weigh our options when a (fortunately) small slough of unconsolidated snow arrived about a meter from where we were standing. The very thought of how hosed we would be if anything bigger came headed our way was enough to spur immediate descent. So there we were, at 3:30am, diligently picking our way back down the crevassed glacier and heading back to the barn.

In the end we were out for just over seven hours, and especially descending the brutally direct ski trails at the end made it feel like we had spent a pretty full day in the mountains. Although it would have been a huge joy to get up the route and summit, at the end of the day (8am) most of what I look for in a weekend in the mountains had been fulfilled: good companionship, getting schooled and humbled by something more than me, a physical spanking, exploration of new and spectacular terrain and, perhaps the combination of these things, adventure. Les beaux jours arrivent and I already can't wait for round 2... 

Failure at Bringing Home the Bacon

Hello All--

Last weekend, in a failed attempt to defend my title as "bringer home of bacon", I placed third in the annual Trail des Balcons Sud de Chartreuse.  It is the same race that I somehow managed to score a first place finish in last year (and, in so doing, winning the infamous 6kg ham--see post from last May), but much to my dismay, the level of competition was a bit higher this year and I was only able to sprint myself into a third-place finish behind two extremely capable and fit women.   

At the same time, my dear franco-american friend Emilie, who I initiated to the world of trail running last fall at a woefully un-documented 10km, ran the 9km version. As you will see in the photo at the bottom, she was certainly the prettiest and happiest looking participant, and reports that despite a lack of training as compared with last year, she found the race to be fun, and not that hard.  Bring on the tougher races! 

The race followed nearly the same course as last year, with only a slight detour caused by several weeks of rain and intense mud.  We ran 24km with 1200m of up, starting and finishing in the town of Quaix en Chartreuse not far from Grenoble.   

Despite being very far behind on my training schedule for the Grand Duc, I managed to finish only 1 minute behind my time from last year, at 2 hours and 44 minutes.  The ladies decked out in "Ski Mountaineering World Cup" gear got in nearly 10 minutes before me, and #4 trailed me by 6 minutes. 

In one month's time, I am hoping to be, once again, super-fit and ready to run 49km with 3500m of vertical as a member of the team "Tough Bunnies".  My new team member (Brad has opted out this year), Marianne, has already logged a marathon this spring, and is training up a storm, so I have to hold up my end of the deal.  Late-season snow makes the training difficult, and motivation lacks, as I know there is no longer a ham in my future, but I'll check back in with the next update on my very unorthodox training milestones.  In the mean time, enjoy these photos of running, which are sure to disappoint as our audience has become far too accustomed to high mountain snow-romping photos....

"j'en chie parceque je veux en chier"

prettiest 9km runner around

me, looking like a goofer, on the right, ham-thieves on the left

Wrapping up the schussin’ season on Neige Cordier & les Dômes de Monetier: Ecrins, as per usual...

Big pretty forecast, stable spring snow, game on! Olivier nearly couldn’t join us after his neighbor locked him out of his apartment and peaced out to Alsace, but fortunately he was able to execute a stealthy break in and swipe his ski gear at the last minute.

Our adventure began on Friday night with a 2-hour hike in ski boots up to the refuge de l’Alpe above Villar d’Arène in the fog (photos not shown). We’ve been wanting to complete a grand loop in the Ecrins all season, and finally were able to make it happen: up the north ridge of Neige Cordier, down the south side to the Refuge du Glacier Blanc, then up to the Dômes de Monetier and back to Monêtier-les-Bains via the Col des Grangettes and some sheisty billy goating through the most extensive avy debris I've ever seen.

Also we got back on steep snow for the first time since Hill’s accident (just over a year ago) and she sent it with style and ease… 

Hillary and Olivier enjoying the magic hour after an early wakeup. 

We went up the couloir on the right and then up the ridge to Neige Cordier (3614m).

Emerging from the E couloir and starting up the ridge.

I wish that arête never ended... definitely the best part of the route. 

For 19 euros, a room with a view. 

Gettin' it on the Couloir du Col Jean Gauthier - AD. 

Despite appearances, sometimes we do partake in downhill skiing. 

On the Dômes de Monêtier summit plateau - pas mal là haut!

Grenoble Proximity Freeriders on the summit, minus Ian this time. 

Early Season Grimpin' at the Gerbier w/ Hillary and Ian - Vercors

Romantic Anniversary Weekend....

Happy Anniversary!!

...For the second year in a row, Brad and I have chosen to spend our anniversary weekend in a sweaty, crowded mountain refuge bunk room in Les Ecrins.  And to make things special this year, as we were celebrating a momentous 5 years of couple-hood, we decided to make things extra-romantic by inviting Olivier and Ian along for the adventure.

We left late morning Saturday to drive part way up the Veneon Valley (one of our favorite places) to park Olivier's Laguna on the sunny side of the valley and take a leisurely afternoon skin up to the Refuge de la Lavey. We all agreed that the refuge would be much better situated about 2 hours further up the valley in order to shorten the Sunday morning slog, but didn't complain when we arrived at the beautifully situated hut and lounged in the sun.

Refuge de la Lavey

Very warm weather and strong sun dictated a very early wake-up, and Brad and Ian regretted not having taken advantage of my roadside earplug distribution (thanks, Nancy!!) as we spent a short night in the crowded dortoir.  The gardienne was not too pleased that we disregarded her 4am wake-up time in favor of a 3am wake up, but we felt confident in our decision to start our day early to avoid too much heat on the one east-facing slope we had to descend.  

morning panorama, les Rouies in the upper left

With skis on our feet and headlamps on our heads, we left the hut (1797m) at a very romantic 4am, and slogged south down the long, flat valley before turning to begin climbing to our first high point of the day: the Col de la Lavey (3309m).  Already starting to feel the altitude and the heat of the sun, we pulled off skins and headlamps, put on our glacier gear, and quickly descended onto safer terrain on the flatter Glacier des Rouies.  

View from on high

Though it was still before 9am, we kept our re-fuel and re-skin break short while observing a steep south-facing slope purge wet, sloppy snow.  Setting a definitive turn-around time at 11, we headed up the long, gradually sloping glacier to the summit cone.  The combination of 2,300m of climbing in one day and an altitude of over 3500m slowed us all down, but especially Ian and me, who had not spent quite as much time schussing at altitude this season.  

With 360° spectacular views, we were all a little sad to call it a day so early (we would have loved to spend the whole afternoon basking), but the hot sun left no us with no choice but to point our skis downhill and slide back down the valley.   Up high, we were still early enough to have great spring corn snow as we followed our own tracks back down the glacier.  

Once down to the flat valley floor and back in the safety zone, we ate lunch and enjoyed the warmth and tried to put off the long double-poling adventure through snow-soup conditions back to the road and back to the city.  

looking up from our lunch spot
 reminds us why we get up early
(don't worry, those aren't our tracks!)

Olivier captures the lovely couple

Each weekend that we spend in the mountains, I am continuously impressed by the incredible terrain and also blown away by the proximity to Grenoble.  This fact was especially driven home last Sunday when, in the space of little more than four hours we went from being at 3500m on skis down to 200m in the sunny city where people in t-shirts and sandals were lounging at sunny cafés.  While there are so many reasons that we love were we live, these days remind us of what is certainly the most important part: 

Location, location, location. 

Part of me hesitates to even include a map-version of our itinerary since
 it will look so silly next to Brad's professional-grade ones, but here it is! 

Ian, star of our blog

Olivier, official holder of candles (i.e. third wheeler)

The 5th time is the charm: on the summit of the Taillefer at last

        Last weekend I finally settled a score that has been a thorn in my side since 2009. The Taillefer, at 9,374' and located within a half hour's drive of Grenoble city limits, is not a coveted test-piece of high technical difficulty. It is a classic, frequented and moderate summit that constitutes a bread and butter outing for Grenoblois skiers. It's a little bit long to get all the way to summit (about 5,500' of vertical and 5-6 miles), and there is a short passage of 45° terrain at the Pas de la Mine (see map), but there is nothing show stopper about the regular route. Olivier would say "ça passe à vélo" and indeed he has mountain biked to summit, although this feat remains somewhat exceptional. 

         Fate, or perhaps I should say the regional bus service, brought the Taillefer and I together during my first stint in Grenoble studying abroad in 2009. Eager for public transport-accessible ski touring, the Taillefer represented one of my only options for a weekend mission. As the suite of successive failures recounted below will show, over the past five years the Taillefer for me has become an haut-lieu of learning, frustration and humility... 

Olivier and I topping out the Petit Taillefer, photo by Hillary.

A SUITE OF FAILURES (see map below)

(1) January 2009. My opening encounter with the Taillefer. Cédric Godefroy (friend of Christophe's) pulled the map out at the bar and naturally I was stoked. The next morning we took the tram, then the bus, stashed our street shoes at the "départ" and we were off. Pea soup fog and having no idea where we were prompted a turn-around somewhere below the Pas de la Mine at around 2500m. 

(2) February 2009. Friends of my brother's, Derek and Lindsey, stopped into my tiny basement studio in Grenoble as part of a 3-month ski trip in the Alps. They came out from Washington state with dreams of heady ski mountaineering but alas equipped with plastic soled alpine boots and no crampons or ice axes. I still feel terrible about swiping Jean Mi's antique wooden ice axe from his storage bin without asking, and then seeing the look on his face when Derek thanked him profusely for lending it the following night. Regardless, after failure #1 I knew that taking the bus from Grenoble and trying the Taillefer as a day trip wasn't going to go, and so we headed up the day before, rented a room in town of la Morte and set alarms for ass early the next morning. We proceeded to get passed by Grenoble retirees (who admittedly are super fit) all morning on the skin track. Derek and I managed to cross the Pas de la Mine before perfect weather and ideal snow conditions forced us to turn back. 

(3) March 2009. Hillary came out to Grenoble during her spring break, which all Taillefer anecdotes aside was the best. The day after her arrival, and for her third or fourth ski tour of all time on borrowed Middlebury Freeheelers gear, with all the Alps at our fingertips I thought it would be good idea to go back to the Taillefer. Fortunately Hillary was easily impressed and she found the bus ride to the trailhead to be spectacular. This time I planned to to assure success by staying at the Cabane de Brouffier hut located almost at the half way point. I told her that in the Alps you don't need to carry a thermarest because of the well-equipped huts. It turns out nobody stays at the Cabane de Brouffier and the place resembled a bombed out cement bunker more than a mountain refuge, and without mattresses we spent the night sleeping on a hard floor with gore tex zippers digging into our sides. Then, still jet lagged, Hillary used ski crampons for the first time before we laid to siege to the Pas de la Mine using a rope and snow pickets. We nonetheless had a beautiful traverse of the Petit Taillefer and sunny picnic at the Col du Grand Van at the foot of the summit cone before bus schedules forced a turn around. 

(4) February 2013. Hillary and I were looking for a long, not-too-steep tour to and from a beautiful summit: why not the south face of the Taillefer? Surely after all our grand adventures this summit would pose no difficulty and would affirm all our progress and growth as backcountry skiers since 2009. What's more, Olivier had done the south face in 3 hours by himself -- how could we miss? As we thrashed through cliff-ridden slide alder at the horribly low altitude of 1400m, knowledge of Olivier's feat only added to an overwhelming sense of frustration and hopelessness. With no way forward apparent and everything in question, Hillary and I exchanged unkind words before turning around and skiing back through the schwack with skins still on (failure 4a). At that point it was 9:30am, and we decided to head further up the valley and try the next drainage over. We did another 900' of vertical of heinous, impenetrable bushwacking before emerging into the alpine basin just as the sun swung behind the Grand Armet across the way and cast the valley into shadow. No sunny picnic for us. We took skins off this time and schussed back to the car with tails decidedly between our legs (failure 4b). Hillary, who had mentioned a sore throat the night before, now felt terrible and opted to sleep in the car for two hours while I went to the nearby ski area and tried to ski out my frustration. 

(5) April 2013. Honestly, I regret not inviting Ian and Hillary to come with Olivier and me on last weekend's outing. Especially after what we did this weekend in les Ecrins (post forthcoming) we clearly could have done the tour as a unit. As it happened Olivier and I left earlier with our sights on the summit and Hill and Ian got a later start with the goal of having a casual day out and skiing the Crête de Brouffier. With Olivier all the failures dissipated and nothing seemed hard -- we avoided the Pas de la Mine by taking a more direct couloir (see photo) and after a bonus pitch of corn from the Petit Taillefer proceeded without difficulty to the summit. Then we added an out and back to the Pyramide (9,314') for good measure. After standing atop the Taillefer for the second time that day (yes!), descent down the north combe made for a spectacular day out with over 15 miles of distance and 7200' of vertical. Rising temps and receding snow might force us to wait until next season, but clearly Hill and I owe ourselves a return visit.

Here is a link to Olivier's account of the day, en français bien sûr