ALPINE GEMS
“ SURPRISINGLY, HOWEVER, WHERE ALPINISTS IN THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY OFTEN UNDERESTIMATED THEIR ACHIEVEMENTS, RIVERO’S DESCRIPTION ACTUALLY EXAGGERATES THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE CLIMB”
Having concentrated on running and skiing, Hillary hadn’t done much
climbing recently, so I figured mellow, short pitches were an appropriate way to start out. Once we transitioned from the shaded southwest face and were climbing up the crest, the climbing became both steeper and warmer. The rock quality was exceptional, with minimal loose debris. Athletic movements carried us up corners, blocks, and cracks on either side of the crest. Tucked into these crevices there was a veritable garden of alpine plants, highly evolved to this harsh environment. Trained as an ecologist, Hillary’s husband, Brad, had awakened her to these marvels of vascular life in the high mountains. With a squeak of delight, Hillary pointed out to me a giant green cushion of Moss Campion (Silene acaulis) that spread over one metre in diameter. This had a colony of Androsace de Saussure (Androsace saussurei) growing on top, the latter being endemic to the Mont Blanc region. Given that Campion grow ~0.5mm per year, it would already have been large when Alfonso Castelli and Michele Rivero first passed there in 1935. We reached the base of the characteristic orange corner capped
with a small roof after a handful of pitches. This is the crux of the route as described by Rivero: “We are below an 18-metre-high step of vertical red rock, cut by a corner, and dominated by an overhanging roof... It is climbed by the force of one’s arms, using a narrow crack for the right hand (6th degree).” This beautiful rock passage remains as he described. Surprisingly, however, where alpinists in the early 20th century often underestimated their achievements, Rivero’s description actually exaggerates the difficulties of the climb. The rock climbing is mostly IV, with a single move of V (~5b). In the 1930s, the 6th class (VI / 6a) was considered to be the limit of human capability in free climbing, and very few climbs of that level existed. Indeed, three weeks earlier, just across the border, Pierre Allain and Raymond Leininger made the first ascent of the north face of the Drus. High on the route, Allain established a rare pitch of VI with his new rubber- soled shoes. That route is of a totally different order to the climb we
26 | CLIMB. WALK. JOIN.
were on, and remains a stern test to this day. A few metres up our orange corner there were two pitons - one came out in my hands, and the other was bent and only half in the crack. Above this, the corner and the roof were very well protected with another two solid pitons, and plenty of space in cracks for small cams. The moves to escape out of the corner were not as strenuous as they looked, and were awkward rather than difficult. The foot placements were delicate in boots and the roof pushed me off balance, catching my ice axe as I pulled round the lip. The ridge continued with steep grooves, cracks, and flakes. At
times, I veered left and right of the crest to find better alternatives, occasionally opting for steeper, blockier sections to avoid relying on thin footholds in boots. Four more pitches brought us to the top of the rock ridge. Donning crampons, we trotted up the snow ridge towards the final rocks, gasping for air. A short scramble, albeit loose, led to the summit. After capturing a few photographs, it was time to descend before the snow conditions worsened. Hillary had mentioned her anxiety when it came to descents, especially on steep, rapidly melting snow. With this in mind, we proceeded cautiously. Roped up, we tackled the steeper snow above the first rock band, facing into the slope and managing the final meters of rotten 55-degree snow above the rock ledge with utmost care. We didn’t spot the rappel anchor described in the topo, but zigzagged down the slabby rocks and delicately onto the rotten snow slope below. The angle soon eased and we reached the rocky promontory that separated us from the glacier lower. Locating the anchor, we rappelled down onto the glacier, just above a confluence of colossal crevasses. Strung out with a tight rope between us, we took a long arc around
to the left and then managed to descend directly onto the rock buttress above the bivouac, rather relieved to have avoided all the crevasses. The bivouac, now empty, was once again tidy and inviting, a stark contrast to the previous night's chaos of sweaty mountaineers. We brewed a cup of tea and savoured the view for half an hour
before a new wave of climbers – another team from ENSA – appeared on the snow slopes below. It was time for us to vacate the bivouac and return to the sweltering heat of the valley. With the snow nicely cooked we glissaded most of the way down the first few hundred metres, and then after the fixed ropes at 2,300m we glissaded another slope below, reaching the scorching asphalt road in just 55 minutes!
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