The Alps in Summer or Winter Are Challenging and Beautiful.
In one of my earlier trips to the Alps during the late Summer months of 2017 I became mesmerised at the idea of taking my sport of climbing to new heights. To test myself in this environment seemed a logical next step that would set me on a path of self exploration I did not expect. The trip to the Furka Pass (Pictured above) with Mammut and one of their experienced guides was so memorable, not just because I went with one of my best friends, Sebastien, but also because of the people I met.
Although I was challenged physically and mentally on this trip into the Swiss Alps, this is not the journey I wish to share today, my dear readers. No, today I want to share a hilarious story of self. A lesson that has stuck with me for the best part of a decade now, one that I have shared with many friends.
I have used this time and again in situations that are totally challenging both mentally, pysically, not just for me in the moment but as a story for others in the moment, joining me on an adventure. I feel this represents and fits nicely into the concept of onemooreday, doing everything you can today to build yourself for your future and your next best onemooreday.
The lesson was to “Show Up and Just get into it”.
The Journey to Chamonix
I was so excited. It was February and Europe was locked into a really cold spell of weather. It was perfect for Ice Climbing. The first challenge was the drive down from the middle of Germany to Chamonix. This was a ten hour journey by car.
The route I had chosen took me out of Germany, through a small section of Luxembourg, into France, back into Germany from where I would cross the border into Switzerland. I already encountered snow storms just after exiting Luxembourg. I must admit I was concerned about driving the distance with so much snow forecast. The usual traffic build up at the Swiss border were as expected. But until this point it went pretty well.
As I drove deeper into Switzerland I was seriously doubting my decision to drive South and then cross over a mountain pass in the middle of Winter, so I could drop down into Chamonix and avoid the long way round on the French toll roads.
I got lucky. The pass was clear of snow on the road and was open. This was an absolutely incredible part of the journey. Switzerland is one of the most majestic countries I have ever visited with the high mountain peaks and crystal clear lakes.
My excitement at being so close to Chamonix versus the unkown accessibility via the mountain pass and the necessary five hour detour if it was closed added to the adrenalin. At the foot of the pass I noted a sign concerning Snow Chains. Ooops, an Englishmen had no reason to even consider this. At least my Winter tyres were good and I just kept my fingers crossed, hoping for the best.
As I climbed the pass the views were spectacular across the Swiss Valley. I lost count of the hairpin turns along this narrow twisty road. It climbed to 3,000 meters and as I climbed the road got narrower and the snow deeper.
The vista changed from valley views to mountain side views and the closeness of those giants began to closet the road. From around 2,00 meters the snow built up to a few feet deep and I was enjoying a most amazing drive. Once at the top however it changed.
By now the snow had reached the height of the car. The road was still clear but the snow was so deep and lined the edges to depths of 15 feet or more as I slowly drove down into the valley. The decent was like being in a never ending snow tunnel. The raods wre slippery, hairpin after hairpin, passing other slow moving traffic and occassionaly a crazy person behind the wheel….that was close!
As I entered back into France in a remote wooded border crossing in a very small village the snow was still deep all the way into Chamix. I noted the petrol station for my return journey, as I had not seen one in a while.
I had never driven in conditions like that or seen snow so deep. I began to consider the return journey, would that even be possible?
Chamonix, The Itinerary. The Plan.
I checked into Hotel Josephine in the center of Chamonix and made my way across to the Chamex Offices at the foot of Aguille de Midi, where you can jump on a cable car that takes you to the top.
To say Chamonix is vibrant and exciting just does not do this bustling town justice. Restaurants are full. Skiers and climbers in all the gear walking down the main street, shopping, in snow boots. It had the feel and excitement of London. The architecture is as you would expect, Alpen style, old, chalets, but with a modern twist here and there. I have never seen so many sports shops in a square mile before!
Chamex are one of the top Mountian Guide Professional outfits in Chamonix. I was there for three days of ice climbing and it was my second tour with them, as the year before I had done a week of Winter mountaineering as an introduction to serious Mountaineering. Chamonix hosts the main training academy for Moutain Guides.
I met Julian, a French mountain guide that evening in the office. We had coffee and got to know each others backgrounds and experience. I had some new equipment and could not wait to test it out. It took me a year deciding which ice axes to purchase and hence I was keen to put some scratches on the cool looking green paintwork just to prove I had some experience and remove that total newbie look.
Julian was a very accomplished Mountaineer and climber as you would expect. Gaining the status of Mountain Guide is very difficult. It turned out that the other member of the group was ill, which meant it was a one to one ratio which was fantastic for me. It would also test me further than I ever had been tested.
The plan was to practice and refresh on day one, all my skills in a location called Le Bier! There is a 20 meter high crag that freezes over to create ice walls over the rocks. The process is helped by piped water to the top of the crags where taps are opened to allow water to flow down and thicken the ice. It’s a pretty safe place as you are able to walk to the top and set up a rope system called top rope.
This secures you at all times, so that if you were to fall, and you will, then you will only fall a few feet. You are attached to a rope fed through an anchor above you, at the top of the climb, which then runs down to your belayer who holds both rope and the responsibility to keep you safe. Julian was my belayer.
The process of top rope climbing is different to lead climbing. The process of climbing on lead which is where the anchor point is the last safety gear, bolt or other anchor set up that is placed directly within the climbing route, meaning the safety is below not above. You would fall the distance to the last anchor, if that holds in place, and then the same distance again plus rope stretch as all ropes are dynamic in their construction. Climbing on lead like this means bigger falls.
Then on day 2 we would head off to Cogne, in Italy. This is a valley of waterfalls and in January through to late April they are frozen, thick and solid. It is one of the Alps top venues for ice climbing and for me the thought of climbing frozen waterfalls was both intimidating and exciting.
Day 3 was open and would depend on how well I performed. So it was on me to do well.
The Training Day and My First Lead Climb on Ice
Not a straightforward training day. This was phsically gruelling and nerve racking. In fact at times almost impossible. I had ice climbed before. Once in London, Covent Garden in an indoor 10 meter tall freezer! The second time was on rented ice axes in my first trip to Chamonix and Le Bier the year before, during the one week introduction to Winter Mountaineering. So I was not exactly expecting the day one I received.
I must have done 10 routes that day. My arms were pumped. At times I could barely hold the ice axes. My heart rates and body did multiple HIIT workouts lasting 30 minutes each time I climbed. Time after time.
Aside from the physical aspects I learned how to create an anchor in the ice, thread a sling through the hole and literally hang with all my weight on that sling. This is a simple safety anchor. An important skill. Difficult to master. One cannot imagine just how strong and solid the ice can be, until you trust to it with this simple technique.
Did you ever try climbing with just one ice axe? Well, neither had I. In fact that sounds crazy right. I mean you have the crampons on with the metal spikes at the front, digging into the ice, and usually two ice axes. One remains in the ice so you have three points of contact at all times. You swing the other axe up and above your head to progress up the climb.
Without the three points of contact you simply fall back and off the wall. I mean its impossible with vertical or greater than vertical angles to not simply fall backwards. So it was crazy. All I could do was laugh at myself for my first steps onto the climb and five attempts to just get off the floor. IMPOSSIBLE!
The hand that usually held the axe was simply gloved. A Leather Glove. Trying to what…hold ice! No way. How was this even possible. I thought maybe there is a way, after all I used to hold a tennis ball in each hand when sport climbing training in a climbing hall, so I could not grip the holds, just press the tennis balls onto the holds…I got up those routes, mostly!
On the 7th attempt to get off the ground to even do the first move, I finally figured it out. I used the empty gloved hand and positioned my arm and hand in a Gaston. This is where you extend the arm out sideways away from the body, twist the palm of the hand to face backwards, putting the shoulder in a weakened position. With two gloved fingers that I put inside an tiny ice hole about 5 cms in diameter, I applied pressure backwards away from the wall. So pressed my fingers backwards.
It worked and with only two fingers and my crampons dug in a centimeter into the ice, I was off the ground and climbing. Repeating the process of finding small holes in which I could Gaston an arm and provide enough balance with 2 fingers to swing an axe, I reached the top of the ten meter wall some fifteen minutes later. Absolutley incredible. I had done this with just one axe and a gloved hand. I was buzzing! So I said today is the day for my first lead on ice. Julian agreed.
OK so that was a massive step to take. Screwing in ice screws whilst on lead requires an enourmous amount of power. My forarms were rock solid from so much blood being pumped into them and were screaming at me to the point the only thing you want to do is to let go. When lead climbing the rule is no falling. The risks are higher than in any other form of climbing. Sharp points on crampons to catch on ice and spin you upside down, for example. So you keep going amd you do not let go.
I do not know which I was more happy with the one axe climb or the lead. The lead climb was short and easy in terms of difficulty ofgrade which to me just felt so tough. But that is always the way when you do something a first time right? It had been an incredible day and I was literally so psyched the tiredness did not bother me. It was back to Chamonix and a large bowl of pasta with Salmon and cup of hot chocolate. No Alcohol! I felt ready now, for the Waterfalls made of ice!
Climbing on Waterfalls of Ice in Cogne, Italian Alps
Beautiful. That is a fact. A valley of frozen waterfalls and I was going to climb some. I had no idea what to expect but day one had been so succesful I was up for it. But I was very nervous, this was to be the real thing.
The day did not go as planned. In fact it started to go wrong the moment I got out of bed!
It was 5am and the kitchen was closed. Getting food or preparing a packed lunch for the day was going to be tricky. I got lucky and found a staff member who was kind enough to provide at least some basics. I ate some cerial, drank milk, some fruit, but given the under recovery from day one, it was not enough. Not really.
Then I made my packed lunch, in such a rush as I was so late. Oh I hate that so much, not being fully prepared. I was not functioning so well. But all the hastle had meant I was really late, not just because it was so early, but also I was up later than planned. My body was still recovering. Oh I was so underprepared.
Julian turned up on time and as I have already said, repeatedly, I was late. Great! The night before I had been totally preoccupied packing my rucksack with everything I thought I needed as I was going to be fully prepared.
I am repeating myself. But this was what it was like in my head, my self talk would not be quiet. I was late, but I got it all done. My bag was packed. Julian was just chilling. Relief as I sat in the car and we departed. My fully packed rucksack in the boot or so I thought. My self talk would not shut up!
We got to the end of the road which signalled the start of the valley in Italy. You could not see any waterfalls from the parking area. Julian commented that my rucksack looked full, but I said it was fine, just the essentials and then the penny dropped. I had left my packed lunch at the hotel, oh, which distracted the conversation away from my very full rucksack.
In the mountains you need to have food with you. It´s dangerous otherwise. We were in the middle of nowhere except for a closed bakery or kind of bar, right at the car park which added salt to the wound to be honest. We would be away for seven or eight hours.
Julian came to the rescue and offered to share his lunch with me. Top Guy.
The walk in was over an hour duration and was just stunning. Frozen waterfalls were just beautiful with magical shapes, glistening and sparkling in the early morning sun. Stalactites layered upon each other, curtains of ice with nothing but air behind them. Creaking and crackling in the quiet valley. All the shades of blue and white you can imagine and some you could not.
There was not so much snow in the valley nor on the mountain slopes. We had discussed this because avalnches were possible in the valley which meant the walk in we were taking has been known to be hazardous. One of the first things to do before any trip is identify threats.
Julian had checked and we discussed the potential risk areas as we walked in, which seemed safe. The pack was heavy and I was slowing down and falling behind the pace. It did not go unnoticed and when Julian lifted the rucksack, whilst it was still on my back…yep you got the picture… it was time for one of many discussions about decisions in the mountains. Oh boy it was not going well.
Oh I was such a newbie! Another mistake. I had overestimated how cold it would be. My clothing systems were just excessive and I was already sweating buckets in the morning sun. I had an extra first aid kit. An avalanche shovel just in case! Extra water. Julian was now quite a ways ahead as he was keen to get to the route and start. I was sweating more buckets, getting slower and using up way too much energy on something that is simple..walking.
When I reached the base of the first climb, some many minutes after Julian, he was already in his climbing harness and tying in, attaching one end of the rope to the harness. I had just slipped and slid on the ice at the base of the fifteen meter waterfall almost propelling myself into an unstoppable, embarrissing and fast slide downhill that would have been painful to pride and butt. Mistakes accumulate fast.
At this point my confidence had taken a beating. Not a sign of the feeling I held the night before after my fleeting success on the training wall. I was beating myself up for all the mistakes and my mindset was taking a hammering. Now as I stood looking at the solid waterfall in its strength and beauty I was nervous for the first time. Really nervous.
Julian was on autopilot. He was ready. He had noticed an older couple approaching and said “come on let´s get going otherwise we will be forced to go slow behind this old couple. They look slow so lets stay ahead of them”. I had just finished putting on my harness and crampons as he set off up the climb.
He was soloing the waterfall. I had not been fast enough to tie into the rope with my belay device. He just wanted to get going and be first on route. The climb was four large waterfalls of moderate grade about 4+ if memory serves, intersperssed with steep snow fields. A good climb would be about three hours.
Julian was on the waterfall climbing and I was fumbling with feeding rope through the belay device, which still was not properly secure, when he moved up in typical ice climbing style, one, two, three. Right, left, axe swing. Staying balamced between both feet, before the swing. Soloing was not a big deal for him. For me I was now mentally in deep trouble as I knew I was failing.
The belay device popped from my hand and was now travelling towards the waterfall, stuck on the rope, in the place where I had threaded the rope into the device so that I cound attach it to my harness. Shit! I watched as it bounced around in the air as julian moved ever upwards. So embarrassing I cannot explain just how much I was now suffering.
Each right, left, move took the belay device closer to the waterfall. Desperate and concerned for his safety, not that he was actually concerned about soloing this height at all, but newbie me had no clue on a Mountain Guides limits, which when I came to really understand their capabilities is truly impressive.
I started to shout warnings.
Julian finished placing the ice screw, tied on securely, and pulled the rope towards him, in a cool slow way, which was not really slow but just not hurried. It was impossible to retrieve the device myself. He should not untie, a rule never to be broken. So he pulled the rope with the belay attached, seperated the device and threw it to me. I caught it but only just. At least I did that one thing ok.
He stopped and waited for me to tie in and and secure him on belay for the remainder of the lead. I watched him effortlessly climb the rest, top out and then secure himself to the two bolts at the top of the waterfall, off to the left on a side of rock that in Summer you could maybe sit on top and look down onto gushing water as it fell over the edge with a loud deafening roar.
He was ready for me to climb so all I had to do was tie in, clip the bely device to my rack (name used for all the gear held in place on a harness) and after the usual communications climbers use for safety, start climbing. I was now held securely from above. What could go wrong?
Could it Get Any Worse? Facing my First Ice Waterfall Climb.
I walked across the ice in my crampons. I felt sturdier and safer now than earlier, trying to walk across the frozen lake area at the base of the waterfall in mountaineering boots. The rocks and ice combining to form an undulating pathway where any slip would result on a dangerous slide down the mountain side—not far but for me it would have been far enough. Strange how perceptions interfere with performance.
I yelled up at Julian “climbing” to let him know I was about to set off up the waterfall. He yelled back “climb when ready” in his French accent. I was face to face with this monster now. I had built this waterfall up in my head to be something more than reality. I looked at the ice. It was solid, wet, slippery. A very different surface than I had faced at the training ice wall in Le Bier the day before. It was less well travelled on by climbers.
The ice was so solid and compact, and I mean like rock. I swung my axe, and it bounced off the ice, throwing my arm backwards, pushing my shoulder into an awkward position. I tried again with the same result. Then again. I put my right foot up and kicked hard into the ice. It barely went into the ice. I tried again and the crampon dug in. The technique was slightly different. Slightly nuanced due to the nature of this ice.
I yelled up to Julian “wow this ice is so hard I can barely get off the ground here”. Julian promptly replied “yes, the ice has fewer holes from axes. You will need a bit more effort to get the axe into the ice securely. More precision with the swing, angles, and crampons.” I took his advice and really concentrated on my technique. The focus was helping calm my nerves.
As I had approached the waterfall a few moments earlier my nerves and heart were racing. I had lost everything I had gained from the day before. Confidence was ebbing at its lowest point. I had made so many basic mistakes. Felt uncomfortable even walking on ice. My stride needed improving on the hike in – yes there is technique for moving in the mountains. At this point I started to ask; I was asking myself why I was even there. My self-talk was sapping energy.
I had swung my axes now so many times. The ice was so hard. I was already tired, and it had been only 10 minutes for the first three meters. I yelled up again” take tight”, I felt the rope tighten and pull on my harness as I fell back off the wall to take a rest. A long 10 minutes.
Dangling in midair three meters above the ground must have looked ridiculous. I rested 5 minutes whilst carrying on a conversation with Julian about how hard this ice was. Technique was the answer. I went back on the wall and yelled “climbing”.
I swung my axe, it rebounded, again and again and again. Then I swung again. It was so difficult. Sweat was dripping off me. My arms were on fire. I swung again. I had progressed perhaps another meter when I just fell off the wall.
I hung there in space, huffing and puffing. Beating myself up for not being fitter. For all the mistakes I had made. For the fear that had built up. For my failure to climb. To be so bad compared to the day before. I looked at my brand-new ice axes in some weird way as if to check if they were marked yet. If they were marked or scratched, I could claim to no longer be a newbie at this new facet of climbing. Seeking a weird kind of solace, I looked at my ice axes.
My heart stopped. How could I be so stupid. To this day the embarrassment of that point in my life has never left me. I had forgotten to remove the hard rubber protective caps on the points of each ice axe. What?! No way. What an absolute idiot. I yelled up to Julian what I had done. Silence. The protective cover of 5 cm by now had ripped and slid down the shafts of the axe points.
I hung there for fifteen minutes with my gloves off trying to peel away the hard rubber protective pieces. They were truly jammed, stretched and wedged there. My hands were freezing by now as they encountered bare metal. It was a slow process, and I could barely rip away the hard rubber and put each tiny piece into a pocket. By the time I had finished Julian had not said a word.
I got back on the wall and climbed the remaining twelve meter or so in just a few minutes. The whole debacle had taken over an hour. I was shaking from nerves, rage at myself and sheer exhaustion. I said to Julian “I am not sure I can do this”. He was patient and we talked through with no pressure if I wanted to continue. “It’s not my day” I said. “I think I can´t do this it´s too hard, let´s go down”.
At that point the older couple Julian had wanted to stay ahead of, topped out with huge smiling faces. Politely said “hello” wished us a good day and passed us at the top of the first ever waterfall I had climbed in my life. A small one at fifteen meters. As I lowered off over the edge to retreat to the ground my last view of that first climb was the onward slow progress of the older couple.
Ironic Justice I suppose, but painful, nonetheless.
We reached the ground, and it was lunchtime. In Part Two I share one of the pivotal discussions I have ever had, and we go onto what happens next and a mega climb on day three of Eliza’s Gulley with stunning views of Mont Blanc. Not without danger!
