Virgin Power Appreciation Society

Mt Blanc, Chamonix, France

Thursday, 24 April 2003

An unique day

Unique is an over used word in the English language. However, for me, this day was unique, as I doubt I will do it again. I may do similar things, but not exactly the same. I guess that pedants would argue that every day is unique. :-)

Route: Cormayuer, Italy - Aiguille de Grise - Dome du Gouter - Vallot Refuge - Classic North-West Ridge - SUMMIT OF MONT BLANC - Back to Refuge - Dome du Gouter - Petite Plateau - Grands Mulets Refuge - La Jonction (Glacier de Bossons) - old lift station - Mt Blanc tunnel

Weather: SUN SUN SUN, incredible visibility, strong winds initially, but soon dropped to reasonable, a mere -15C on the summit

Altitude: Heli drop to 4170m, hike to 4807m, hike down to 4250m, ride down to 2535m, hike up to 2580m, ride to 1685m, walk down to 1260m

Got up again at 5am, and were driving down the road at 6am sharp. Met the guides at the entrance to the Mt Blanc tunnel and drove through the 11km (7 miles) of engineering achievement. On the other side, we stopped for a traditional capuccino at the nearby fuel station. The heli port was next door, and the guides consulted with the pilot for the last time. A quick change in the uplift order, and we were sorted. I was to go in the 3rd drop out of the 4.

One problem about a day like this is not knowing what to expect. Of course, it's the anticipation that's the worst thing... once you get going, you don't think about the other things, you just get on with it.

My partner for the day was Jon. We were put with guide Ralf Tenbrick, a big chap with a great sense of humour. He was also on a board, which was nice. For some reason they split myself and Champ up, and we weren't even misbehaving! He did however have a cold / chest infection. How he'd managed the week so far I had no idea, but it seemed fairly certain he'd be ok for the summit.

The first heli trip left at 07:30, it only took guides, so they would be ready and waiting. After what seemed like ages, the heli returned. It came down the valley out of the West, did a sharp bank and 180^o turn and parked it straight down on the tarmac with a flair for style that only an Italian could achieve.

It loaded people and boards, and was off again with no unnecessary waiting, which isn't suprising given the cost of running. Back he came, and it was my turn.

Camera Simon jumped in the front seat, for prime viewing, so I got in last to make sure I had a window seat. All secured, and we were off, climbing up through the Western part of the valley, we passed the resort of Cormayuer. The other Simon previously did a season there, and started rattling off the names of familiar places.

The ride seemed to go on forever, as we filmed parts of the flight and looked out at the glaciers that make their way downwards. The winds were strong at altitude and they buffeted the helicopter around as we climbed higher and higher. We were heading for a peak and at the last minute climbed over the top where we could see everyone else waiting.

Again, no faffing around, the pilot put the heli down on the same spot as before. The guide came and opened the door and ushered us all out. I still had the camera rolling, as did Simon, when the heli took off, dropped right and down with the sun perfectly behind it. Simon was whooping with delight: "Oh yeah, that's the money shot." Viewing the video now, it was indeed an excellent piece of filming.

The final lift brought the last of the group and the last guides up. Following the noise of the heli as it dropped off the ridge, the silence seemed deafening. No time for pausing though. Crampons out, poles ready, ice axes to hand, and boards on the backpacks. At 08:20 we were off.

The hike up the first section was hard work. We needed to adjust to the altitude, and the wind was harassing us. Walking towards the wind the boards held us back, but as we turned to diagonally make our way up the slope the wind gave us a gentle push in the right direction.

We stopped for a rest on the plateau just below the Vallot Refuge, and unloaded all unnecessary equipment - most obviously the boards and skis, as the route off the summit was solid pack snow and ice, so wouldn't have been any fun to ride down. A quick snack, and we were off again. We took the classic North West ridge route, which was steep in places and shiny solid ice in others, sometimes it was both.

We passed a handful of people on the way up, here and there. Some really seemed to be struggling to get up, and I wondered then if my fitness was helping me out. I looked behind and saw the other teams quite a distance back, but then tried not to think about it. Each foot step was an effort, and this was compounded by being roped up. I would be halfway through a step only to have the rope behind go tight and pull me to a stop. Thankfully it wasn't too long before we got a better rhythm going, and the ropes are obviously necessary for us novices.

Right at the top there's a narrow ridge, and we caught up with a couple of guys who were taking it very slowly. After the nice pace that we had set previously, this was probably the worst bit, and in some ways more tiring than any other section. It was only 5 minutes to the summit.

At 11:30, we made it. The top of Mont Blanc.

Unbelievable. The feeling all round was total euphoria. We joined McNab and Keith, and the 5 of us shook hands and took photos. Keith was ecstatic, and he's been up before! But that doesn't explain why he was putting his clothes back on when we arrived.

There are many words in the English language, some would say too many, but it's difficult to find one that describes the view from the summit, and the general feeling of having made it. Awesome is over used. Incredible doesn't cut it. "Unfreakingbelievable" should be submitted to Oxford.

To be able to look down upon peaks that are over 10,000ft high and still be on land. To be able to see the Matterhorn in Switzerland, Le Grand Motte in Tignes, La Grave, Cormayuer, and countless others that I wouldn't know, all from one spot. It was, simply, stunning.

I didn't feel too bad when I was up there, although I was a little dizzy and light headed. Sometimes I couldn't think of the words that I wanted to say, but I was able to video stuff, take pictures of Jon with his camera, and generally enjoy the whole experience. What I also did though is take off my mittens so that I could video stuff easily. My hands were protected minimally by a thin pair of gloves, something I was to regret later. (Any real climbers reading this will be nodding knowingly).

After a short while on the summit, we walked down the Southern face a few metres to get out of the wind coming from the North, and here we looked around more, and waited for some of the others. As I recall, Champ was next with Alan (a BASI instructor that had joined us for the day). This was closely followed by Neil & Alex and the 2 Simons. Another vigorous round of hand shaking was indulged in.

Shortly afterwards, Ralf was calling us to order, and Jon and I were off. This time Jon was in front, I followed, and Ralf was keeping the rope at the ready on the higher side. It was about 12:15, and by this stage I was fairly cold. However, it didn't take too long to warm up, and after about 200-300m of vertical drop, my right hand (the one holding the ice axe) started to hurt. Now I've had cold parts get warm before (particularly when surfing in the winter), and normally get tingling sensations, but this was pure pain. It didn't take long before the pain became too much and I had to stop. I pulled my fingers out of the finger section of the glove and balled my hand up into a fist. Ralf said this was fairly normal, and yes it hurts, and if I wanted to, it was ok to cry. After a few minutes the pain subsided, and although it was still hurting, it was nothing like it was, and we were able to proceed. I appreciate though, that what I felt was probably nothing in the grand scheme of things.

On the way down, Ralf pointed out some twisted plates of metal with a light brown colour. Apparently it was from an Air India aeroplane that had crashed on Mont Blanc. Upon returning home, a quick google search reveals that there were 2 plane crashes on Mont Blanc, both of which belonged to Air India. One was on 3 November 1950 and the other on 24 January 1966.

Back on the plateau below the refuge again, we sorted out gear had something more to eat, and a lot more to drink. McNab and Keith were shortly behind us and about 10 minutes later came Alex and Neil. It wasn't long before Alex was nauseous and left behind some yellow snow with carrot chunks. I was aware of a splitting headache just as McNab was offering aspirin. Seems like that is yet another common feature of being that high.

Once Alex had finished decorating, we all set off riding together. We traversed the Dome du Gouter and then dropped down it. Two turns in I just fell over for no explicable reason. I had forgotten how to snowboard. A quick slap soon sorted that out, and not much further on we hit powder. Proper powder. Oh yummy.

The headache got a little better as we dropped down, but it never went away completely. I guess dehydration played a part in that, although I was drinking lots of water.

Further down we got to a crevasse section on the Petit Plateau, which couldn't be ridden. We roped up and had to walk across snow bridges and around the various slots. Some bits seemed quite sketchy, like dropping down a short steep section that was very narrow and had a slot either side. Looking down into the chasm, it simply disappeared from sight. Fall down and they may never find you.

On another section, we sort of abseiled although it was only 4-5m high. Keith was the last one to come down it and behind him he heard a tearing noise, as he looked around a huge serac dropped off and landed in a burst of powder. Ralf saw the powder, but hadn't seen the serac. Another reminder that we had chosen the right route up.

It has to be said that some of the seracs that were above our route were huge. Bigger than double decker buses. The size of office blocks. Big. And there they were held up by little, ready to fall at any moment, without notice. It was bad enough having to ride underneath them for 10 minutes or so. We weren't allowed to stop, not that any of us wanted to. I definitely would not want to hike up underneath them for hours in the dark. Sod that.

More riding down and we came past the Grands Mulets Refuge hut. It was fully booked with people attempting Mont Blanc the following day. People were out on the terrace getting some rest from the trek to get there, and the trek they faced in the morning. Just getting into the hut itself requires a climb! At this point it was hot, and getting late in the day, and there were still people skinning up to the hut.

Onwards we progressed, and there were still more crevasses to avoid on the glacier, which thankfully was uneventful. At La Jonction we had a choice of routes oddly enough. Given the time of day though, the safest option was to make our way across to the old Aiguille du Midi lift station. This involved hiking a traverse whilst climbing in altitude a little, and we needed to do it quickly. The snow was getting very slushy and many foot steps involved sinking down to our thighs.

It wasn't long though before we could strap back in to the boards and ride down. This whole section was excellent. The snow had a melted top layer with loose crystals on it. This is corn snow baby, and it was fantastic fun.

Too soon though, the vegetation started blocking our path, and we had to thread our way through the patches. By this time there was so much corn snow, it was hard to get going again once you stopped. Finally, at the bottom old lift station at 1685m, the snow ran out. Boards were put onto our packs, and we hiked down a trail through the wooded area which brought us out to the Mt Blanc tunnel.

Back at the chalet, all the McNab clan were waiting to welcome us back from a successful trip. We chilled out with long hot showers, a soak in the hot tub, and bandied about superlatives to describe the day.

Dinner that evening involved champagne, both for us and for the McNab operation, who had run this trip for 3 years now, and, 3rd time lucky, we were the first to have attempted the summit. Previous years were hampered by weather. Success all round.

After too much wine at dinner, we naturally progressed to a local establishment that sold more alcohol, and finally at about 3am the following morning I made it back to bed.

What a day!

[Intro] | [Training] | [Build Up] | [Ascent] [Epilogue]