Mont Blanc. The Bossons Glacier Route.

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After our two weeks in the Vanoise region of France, which we enjoyed but experienced mainly poor conditions for high level exploration four of us, John, Brian, another John and myself decided to take the train round to the town of  Chamonix, under Mont Blanc, to see if this would change our luck.
 ( we had five Johns in the club at one time and several other shared names, something I decided to change in my book Autohighography, as telling a story with five Johns in it was always going to be a big ask for any reader to follow)
 A view of the Mont Blanc area here viewed from the Aiguilles Rouges, a lower mountain range on the other side of the valley. Unlike the higher Mont Blanc group, permanently plastered in serious ice and snow the Aiguilles Rouges range, in mid July, presented a different outlook, resembling the high desert states of the USA in some ways, similar to parts of Monument Valley Utah or Arizona.

Less snow, most of it melting fast, to be replaced by an arid high plateau ringed by a long line of red vertical cliffs. Once you get up to this height, via a cable car, it's mostly flat walking with several potential backpacking or day hike trails and well worth a visit. Spectacular in itself this area also has jaw dropping views of the main Alpine chain running along the French Italian border.

This was not our first view of Mont Blanc however. Years earlier we had visited it from the Italian side but a lack of ropes, experience, and severe winds whipping spin-drift off the summit meant we were under no illusion it was possible to climb it that time.

Instead we messed around on the lower slopes in sub zero temperatures and savage winds and even that was testing. What makes Mont Blanc so dangerous, killing over 100 climbers per season, (11 dead in 3 days one week), is its accessibility. The Aiguille du Midi telepheirique  lifts you up the mountain effortlessly then dumps you within striking distance of the summit. In most other large serious  mountains worldwide it takes planning, ability, experience, and total commitment to reach them. Here, the largest mountain in western Europe, is a cable car ride away, meaning anyone can do it, without much planning, thought, or research of the dangers involved.

Yet the Mont Blanc Range is a serious undertaking, transporting you immediately into a hostile, arctic environment. Even moving 20 paces from the Aiguille du Midi cable car station places you in real danger as we went through a short tunnel to confront a knife edged ice ridge dropping thousands of feet as soon as we emerged. One step onto it without ice axe or crampons might well be your last step.

Observation deck on the Italian side.

Even if you make the summit all it takes is a sudden change in the weather, poor visibility, altitude sickness, or bad judgement and you may well become a statistic yourself. It's fair to say, like a lot of innocent trusting people lured up by the ease of access, we did not really appreciate just how dangerous a mountain it could be when we made our own summit bid.

The next day promised good weather so we decided to go for it. Now or never. After reading the guide book we decided that the Bossons Glacier route looked the most interesting and might avoid the crowds slogging up the main ridge. The Bossons, seen here lower down with an ice climbing school on it, is one of the fastest glaciers in the Alps due to its steep nature, heavily fractured terrain, and location. In bad French we booked four places in the Grands Mulets Hut (large mules, for hauling up hut supplies in the early days of the hut) which is located on a steep spur of rock at 10,000 feet, surrounded by the wonderland jumble of the Bossons Glacier at its finest. It's sad to read here that this hut may well be closed now as due to climate change and increasing dangers from stonefall, collapsing seracs etc this route up Mont Blanc is no longer viable. So this account is for historical interest only. ( Shit! I am already a relic of the past- Mr Living Fossil me!)  This short link is well worth reading. The end of an era.
https://www.chamonix.net/english/news/grands-mulets-refuge-closes-end-july-2019

We took the cable car up to the lower station of the plan then set off to reach the hut over the fractured, surreal landscape of the Bossons Glacier. I loved every minute of it. One of the best, most unusual days of my life, probably for my companions as well. I could never afford the fat wallet tours to Greenland, The Arctic, The Himalayas, or any climbing area outside cheap package trips but I didn't need to. On the slopes of Mont Blanc I found my own icy Eden to play on

There is a faint path through the Bossons Glacier, or was then, but it weaves continuously through dips and cracks in the ice, which collapse or change every season presumably.

It's a great adventure.... if you survive it.

For a photographer I was in my element and I've certainly never taken similar photographs on any other alpine trip.

Quite steep in places but we had ropes, ice axes, crampons, and full climbing gear with us. On these icy slopes it was possible to get badly sunburnt yet have frozen fingers and toes at the same time.

After four hours of crossing, weaving, and ascending the glacier by late afternoon the Grands Mulets hut loomed into view looking like an alpine version of the Potala Palace in Tibet. We had already experienced a fantastic climbing day yet we were only halfway up the route. That night in the hut, where you used the toilet by hanging off a short rope over a hole, any waste matter dropping down into a large crevasse, straight into the glacier below I seem to recall. 1960s version of eco friendly recycling- ie none.
Elated with our journey so far we splashed out on drink at the hut and were the last to go to bed. People at the hut bar left remarkably early by Scottish drinking standards. Even in bed I couldn't sleep- alpine huts are always stuffy, warm, crowded places with at least one snorer- usually a competing duo and I had a bad cold, sore throat, and chest infection- which I happily managed to give to my companions as well within the confinement of the hut sleeping quarters. I'd had it for a while, convinced I'd caught it on the plane journey over, always a potential hazard on any holiday, even before covid 19, but it was getting worse each day. Come to think of it I've rarely been on any European trip without getting some minor ailment yet I,m usually healthy here. Either through eating different foods, drinking the summer water in streams, (always mixed with purification tablets) or catching a virus on public transport. If I get through a holiday without any added issues, like the runs, it's a bonus. I,m always a moderate drinker by the way in case you assume that's the cause. It's not and with half pints of beer/lager served routinely in most huts you would need to spend a lot of cash to get really inebriated.
I eventually dropped off to sleep around midnight .... only to be jolted awake one or two hours later by what sounded like a large school bell going off. At first in my semi drunken state, ( three pints have that effect at 10,000 feet) I thought it was a fire alarm but none of the hut residents jumped up quickly. Instead a few soft groans and shuffling movements in the dark, the clicking open of rucksacks, and the slow dressing of tired bodies around me hinted at the awful truth. After two hours fitful sleep and still half drunk it was time to get up and climb our mountain. Damn! Still 5,774 feet of ascent left to go.

The first hour or so saw us get up, rope up, then carefully work our way down steep ledges in the dark from the hut, using head torches to see where we were going. This hut sits on a near vertical rock wall for some reason so even getting up to it is a mild scramble- descending it in pitch darkness, half pissed and ill, requires care. A weird and incredibly surreal feeling hit us at that moment as we could look down, almost vertically down, a long,long way in the dark, and see tiny ant sized humans coming out of night clubs in the town of Chamonix or some other alpine community far below, held like amber in a tiny illuminated bubble of neon and heat while we froze on the shadowed slopes above. The town of Chamonix sits at an elevation of around 3,500feet while Mont Blanc summit is 4,808 metres or 15,774 feet- a 12,000 foot overnight or day climb difference that few other mountain ranges worldwide can match even in the Himalayas where you acclimatize slowly trekking into a base camp then climb to that level gradually in set stages each day. The night before this ascent we had sat in a Chamonix bar in the dark with streetlights on everywhere yet could still look up and see the sun setting on the Mont Blanc summit for what seemed to be an hour later before it finally disappeared.

Luckily, the cold temperatures softened our hangovers and we made good time up the rest of the mountain. Lucky again that the landscape underfoot was white as we did most of this ascent in the dark with head torches so you could at least make out each crevasse and avoid it. Most of the photographs here happened during our descent when it was light enough to use a camera.

Still a wonderland of ice awaited us with the deeper crevasses bridged in ad hoc fashion with a plank of wood thrown across them. As some of these were really deep and crampons bite into wood as well as ice it was always an adventure stepping across them, like walking across a tar smeared bouncing floor and wondering halfway across if you'll make it to the other end. Disconcertingly sticky at times. Some of these photos might be mixed up, taken before or after the hut and out of sequence, as all these years later it's not so clear where on the Bossons it is. You can see a wooden plank here across a hole.

Brian and John in the middle of a serac field. When the morning sun hits these towers of ice and they start to melt it's not unknown for them to fall over without warning and several climbers have been killed that way, probably every year. One potential reason, along with glacial shrinkage, and increased stone fall off the surrounding cliffs that can flatten people like bugs under an unconcerned foot why this route is so little used nowadays and not recommended. Given the numbers going up Mont Blanc and the pressure on huts there must be a very good reason why it's so underused these days and might be shut.

One final photo in warm shelter before we hit the ridge line. After this point it turned serious. Despite a clear blue dawn day, a high wind on this final ridge push dropped us into sub zero temperatures - it was miserable and a real slog. Altitude hit us hard as well and we could only manage 10 paces before we needed to stop and rest. Then it went down to five above 15,000 feet. Technically it was very easy and not exposed at all but with my chest infection I was finding it hard to get enough air into my lungs and not that enjoyable. We reached the broad summit but only stayed five minutes with pounding headaches before heading back down. I did take a few photos up there but they were rubbish. Being the highest peak in Europe everything else looks flat below you, even the Matterhorn. Same with any highest summit in any country. The lower peaks often have the best views.
Anyway it was a memorable trip and we did it. Highest summit in Western Europe. Yippie. It certainly put me off anything higher as I felt like I'd eaten several dodgy sausages most of the way down. Unlike seasickness this queasy feeling soon vanished however 5000 foot lower.  Bossons Glacier route ten out of ten for enjoyment and sheer adventure. Mont Blanc summit ridge three out of ten. You can easily see how it would be desperate in bad weather. We were very lucky to get it under near perfect conditions. The End.

Not a climbing video. Not scary at all. Everyone should love this three minute wonder. From France with love. Please watch it...full screen.... as it's a gem.
https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x5gl9te







.

Two Weeks in The Vanoise National Park.

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Another trip from way back 30 years ago. Not a backpacking tour this time but mountains climbed from a static base in Pralognan, a small alpine town with a campsite in the French Alps. You can do a five day hiking trip through the Vanoise region, which has spectacular scenery and  large impressive mountains but on this occasion we decided not to do that. The park was created in part to protect and save the Alpine Ibex, seen here in this statue- an impressive mountain goat as large as an antelope with huge curved horns. Luckily, they seem well used to people and have a calm demeanor as they are powerful animals and could do you a lot of damage if they wished.

Pralognan sits in a deep valley surrounded by peaks that resemble shark's fins. Like these two here- Grande Gliere, 3392 metres, and Petite Gliere, 3322metres... or around 11,500 feet.  Which looked promising....

And this one, photographed during a summer thunder and lightening storm.. which looked scary. It was such a thin, fragile looking arete you could almost see though it in the right light. No one in our group suggested climbing it. Once again this was a July fair trip but this time we got two full weeks of unsettled weather, A lot of daily rain, some big thunderstorms- hot sultry days then colder almost Scottish weather with cloud and drizzle that turned freezing at height.

For this reason we did not do much at high levels. We did a fair amount of day walks into neighbouring valleys, mostly low level, then explored some balcony trails- waiting for the weather to improve. I didn't mind doing low level walks as it was still rural France, a new beautiful area to explore, and the alpine flower meadows and butterflies were incredible. On one of the few days we did get good settled conditions we managed to climb the Aiguille de la Vanoise, a 2796 metre, 9,100 foot shark's fin ( in English 'The needle of the Vanoise'). This is it on the right.

Another view of 'the needle' from the 11,000 foot Vanoise Snowfield, a vast icy dome of permanent snow and the 2nd largest example of this type of feature in the entire alps. We did manage a wander across this vast snow dome but it turned windy and cold halfway across it with mist and drizzle increasing- like a very bad Scottish mountain day in mid-winter so we turned back before frostbite set in. This is a 'Thank God' photo... our first clear view coming out the mist off the snowfield and realizing we were safe again and could relax.

Walking across the reflective shallow lake in the pass above Pralognan.

A Diff rock climb up slabs saw us attain the knife edged arete halfway up the shark's fin of the Aiguille de la Vanoise.

A summit view. With a sheer drop of over 1000 feet on both sides of this mountain the only way to protect this traverse was to loop the rope around any prominent rock blades on the ridge. Climbing in teams of two, in the event of a fall or slip, the second climber should jump off the other side if his partner fell, thus theoretically acting as a counterbalance and brake. Luckily, that was not put to the test.... as I was not very keen to jump into space off this mountain. I'd already decided I'd rather be dragged down the easy Diff side than step off a massive overhang on the opposite side. The 3855 metre, 12,900 foot Grande Casse in the background.

The sofa sized summit of the Aiguille de la Vanoise. Room to swing a marmot.... just about.

A couple of days later we had a go at Grande Casse. Being alpine novices we left our ascent too late in the day as it should have been a pre dawn start but we were still learning. With a five to six thousand foot ascent ideally we should have left in the dark but hindsight is a wonderful thing.

By the time we reached the glacier running up the central couloir of Grande Casse we had a thin layer of soft melted snow, warmed by the sun, sitting on top of hard ice beneath. Our crampons did not bite into the soft snow much yet did not find the lower belt of hard glacier ice either which made upward progress harder than it should have been.

This photo sums that up. An alpine beginners mistake. Scottish climbers not used to hot early morning sun and summer starts in darkness to beat the glaciers melting by lunchtime. Stonefall was also an issue here with ice and rocks occasionally bouncing past us as we ascended.

We had a decent go at it but lack of alpine experience at that time, coupled with poor weather coming in again meant we turned back before the final summit ridge. I'd seen photos of this snow arete in the guide book we had and did not fancy traversing such exposed and steep upper slopes in bad weather so we turned back.

A wise move as visibility decreased under darkening skies and colder temperatures. You really need experience under your belt in bad weather conditions to take on the snow covered alpine peaks and at that time we didn't have much.... or any idea of what the landscape was like above us. A lucky escape.

John in the beautiful French town of Annecy. Plane to Geneva, local bus to Annecy where we stayed one night then on to Pralognon the next morning. Annecy with its river and canals resembled a mini Venice and a cracking place to visit. The nearby Lac d' Annecy has tourist boats, surrounding mountains, and a vivid glacial colour tint. Much more spectacular than the Lac at Geneva, even with its high water fountain at one end.

The weather in the Vanoise had been fairly unsettled but four of us still had one week of our trip left.
We decided to take a train a couple of hours east and north to Mont Blanc, at 4,808, 15,775 feet, the highest mountain in western Europe. A view of the Mont Blanc Range here and the Mer de Glace glacier with its distinctive banding. Would the weather improve and would we be able to climb it?

Would our luck hold out? Around 100 folk a year die on the Mont Blanc range even today. ....It's frequently labelled one of the world's most dangerous mountains due to the range of hazards and the sheer numbers climbing it... many not fully experienced or expecting the potential conditions possible on a high exposed summit.  Would we succeed?            To be continued.

Alta Via 1. Monte Pelmo Ascent. A Bambino Could Do It. Via Ferrata. Part Two.

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A day later in our walk across the Italian Dolomites on the Alta Via 1 we reached a hut directly under the base of Monte Pelmo, one of the giant mountains of this region. We spent the evening in the hut trying to find out any information we could about the climb but apart from one line 'Monte Pelmo: A long and tiring ascent, if an easy one.'  in our guidebook and a post card of Monte Pelmo with a dotted line snaking up it, available for sale in the hut, we gleaned nothing else. We could order beers in Italian, ask about campsites, but that was about it and no one at this hut understood much English on that particular day.

The post card view. This side of Monte Pelmo, the one directly above the hut, at least looked not entirely impossible, if still steep. Other than that we didn't have a clue what was ahead of us. Being a backpacking tour we didn't have ropes, ice axes or crampons but the summit slopes looked to be clear of snow.

The next morning we set off... and the scrambling started almost immediately ... a zig zag line up a steep mountain wall. Attacco was our only clue to the start of the route, no one else around as it was an early start. Fortunately Brian, who rock climbed several grades higher than us, up to E1 level, took the lead, which gave us confidence.

Technically, the scrambling was easy... mostly walking along a narrow ledge system... but as the exposure grew.... and the ledge climbed higher then ran straight across the vertical walls of Monte Pelmo... it took on an entirely serious aspect.

One misplaced step or stumble here and you would be falling a very long way to the green meadows below. It was still easy scrambling but being a first ascent for us, with no clue as to how hard it was round each corner it was a memorable one.

In places it was so exposed you could skydive off this narrow ledge, filled with loose stones underfoot, and soar into mid air, taking minutes  to contemplate your own death on the way down before you landed. And amazingly.... not a sign of any via ferrata, confidence boosting fixed ropes, or anything else to hang onto other than bare limestone and a few scattered pitons where you could put a rope hand line if you had one. No other hillwalkers either. We had the mountain to ourselves mostly. I wonder why?!!!

And then... on one of the crux sections on this long exposed traverse... with overhanging cliffs above and screaming exposure below... we spotted the bambino... a little toddler... about three years old... happily walking along this ledge system with his unconcerned parents.....

or at least that's what it looked like when I got the photos back....our friendly base-jumper was correct... a bambino could do it...
I compared Monte Pelmo to a giant, heavily eroded, white dice in the last post, which is true viewed from some angles with its steep vertical edges falling thousands of feet but here, on this side, the only 'easy' way up this amazing mountain, think of it as a high backed school chair. We had just traversed across the vertical legs and now we found ourselves in a dazzling white limestone scoop of the seat section. It's not called God's Throne for nothing.... and looks like it from afar.

Thankfully this was easier, just a faint but well defined path up scree and a few small ramps to negotiate cliffs. But this was not a mountain to relax on. It's still the scariest hill I've ever climbed in my life. Even these photos give me the creeps all over again. This is the ascent/descent route right behind me... and the thought of going back down to that vertical drop of thousands of feet to find a narrow ledge leading back across the cliffs filled me with dread. It still gives me the creeps thinking about it to this day.

Brian or John here, as close to the edge as he's willing to go. Unbelievably, the drop on the other side was even higher. I can't imagine anyone coming up here in winter, covered in snow, but apparently a few brave or crazy alpine mountaineers do. If you bag peaks in the Dolomites you need seriously big balls. I suppose you get used to this level of exposure but for me, even after 100 mountain rock climbs and dozens of Scottish scrambles it was intense and right at my limit. Yet I would not be surprised to find someone has carried skis up here to ski down the upper bowl, given how extreme the limits are for the best in that field. Climbing/ski mountaineering that is. One ascent was enough for me.

There was also a hell of a lot of loose rock around, dust and scree on every ledge... just what you want near a vertical/overhanging drop of 5000 feet.

The summit ridge. I can see why Italian's are religious....climbing mountains like this every weekend or holiday.... as I started speaking to God as well for one of the very few times in my life... promising inwardly that if he saved me from falling off this unbelievable lump of ancient sea bed I'd be a good little boy in future.

and thankfully we did survive. After Monte Pelmo we split up. Brian wanted to finish the Alta Via 1, clocking up 9 to 10 hour walking days in the process, whereas myself and John fancied a gentler pace once we got to Cortina d Ampezzo, a small mountain town and a hub for via ferrata enthusiasts. After Monte Pelmo we wanted to relax. So we went our separate ways but agreed to meet back in town on our campsite once Brian had finished. Market on a high road pass above.

John on a protected wartime path. During World War One there was intense fighting in these mountains between German and Italian troops and you can still see numerous remains of tunnels, carved ledges, and trenches dug out of these limestone coral walls. Hard to believe they were under the ocean at one point.

Although the next set of photos might look scary or exposed it was nothing compared to the levels of fear I experienced on Monte Pelmo. This was a breeze by comparison as we had wires, ropes, and ladders for safety in the event of a slip or fall. Just an enjoyable romp over several via ferrata routes above Cortina. A fantastic base for hill-walkers. World War One tunnels here.
  

An alpine hut with a huge cross above it. John on a via ferrata. We did the Paternkofel protected wartime path. De Luca- Innerkofler and the Paternkofel Wind Gap Path for anyone interested. Plus the Ivan Dibona High Level path... and Brian was back in time to join us for that one.

Snakes and ladders on a via ferrata.

Another vertical wall climb but easy and enjoyable rather than terrifying. Amazing the difference a wire makes to confidence.

Even the free solo stuff, see the small figure out on a ledge here, was not as frightening as Monte Pelmo's stark and threatening verticality- more friendly feeling somehow.

John happy on an easy via ferrata to a summit. Averau and Nuvolao. (German guidebook spelling)

These colourful swinging one person capsules instantly reminded me of the film Barbarella for some reason... and also the Alisha's Attic song of the same name- one of my favourite 1990s groups. It was a quick way up to a via ferrata route rather than slog up the scree slopes of what looks like a downhill winter ski run. The Dolomites being a popular and spectacular winter ski resort often featured on Ski Sunday TV shows.

Crossing the highest bridge in the Dolomites here. Dead easy. Via ferrata routes can get you into situations and places you would never dream of going.

Away from the via ferrata routes though, as here, it's still a scary place if you take a wrong turn.

Brian rejoined us for our last couple of days in Cortina and managed to bag a couple of via ferrata with us. The team reunited once more. A hut built into a mountain wall here, protected from snows, lightening strikes, and howling winds. Steep path up to it.

Inside, due to the chairs, it had a fairy tale quality.

Brian on another via ferrata route, this one if I remember correctly containing a long rising tunnel boring up through the mountain in the distance. A wartime tunnel 600m long. (A torch comes in handy.) Paternkofel. Monte Paterno. Sexten Dolomites group. The separate upright pinnacle, clearly seen here, being the 'frankfurter sausage.' This part of the Dolomites is close to the Austrian Tyrol border.
The end. What a great trip. Thanks to Brian and John for the company.

A 5 minute video here of the ascent of Monte Pelmo. These guys are very fast and make it look easy. Probably done it before or used to dolomite levels of exposure. One slip or stumble on that traverse and you are dead though. Probably due to increasing popularity or a higher degree of public safety awareness in modern times several fixed rope sections exist on this ascent by the looks of it. On our climb, over 20 years earlier, it was empty of any confidence booster worth the name but even today it still demands a good head for heights and steady footwork.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVVF5e1eg-c