An unrelenting trudge. Dozens of people in front and behind. Crunching through frozen snow in the dark. Your head-torch lights up patches of yellow wee staining the snow. You think of the threat of rockfall or a bank of snow tumbling down on you. Who would volunteer for this? At times on the scramble up Mont Blanc by one of the "normal" routes you might find yourself asking that familiar question: "When will it end?"
I shall describe our effort in a moment. But first consider that, despite the trudgery, the pinnacle of the Alps has an allure which is hard to resist. And here is why.
It places you high up, like an eagle. At 4,800m you are higher than anything around you: peaks, valleys, clouds, glaciers, towns. Topping any hill or mountain gives you a little thrill but usually there is still something more above you, or the starting point and even the car remain in sight, or there is a sheep beside you munching grass and making your achievement seem less impressive. Mont Blanc is huge. It sprawls on top of a range which stretches for hundreds of miles. Once you were a creature who had to look up all the time; on the summit, for a while, you can look down on everything and everyone else.
You can, of course, stay in the foothills and valleys and still have a rewarding time enjoying the remoteness and the wildlife. But if you choose to climb and reach a vantage point like this, the prize is a rare, upside-down view of the world.
View from the summit across the Chamonix valley
If you are lucky, in the final section, you will emerge from the clouds as the early sun is brightening. The clouds will stretch into a uniform smudge of white, meeting the dark sky in the distance, a few other peaks poking through like islands. Then the mists will start to dissipate. You will see lesser humps of ice and snow come into view, along with your route up along a well-trodden ridge, the glaciers with their frozen wrinkles and, finally, the deep, brown and green cleft of the Chamonix valley. You will be breathless from the altitude, but overcome by the scene around you.
The summit is the dome slightly to the right, Aiguille du Midi left of centre
It proves to you what your puny body can do. Admittedly, the first ascent by Balmat and Paccard more than two centuries ago was harder and riskier. They carried wooden batons and wore standard coats and boots. Paccard's hat blew off early on; he was snow-blind on the way down; his hands were frozen in wet gloves. In fact, between them, they had a pair of leather gloves and a pair of fur-lined gloves so shared them, each having a good glove and a bad glove. As the cold set in, one climber held up a hand that had turned white, the other a hand that looked black. Paccard's fingertips were numb for weeks after.
Even now, though, the ascent is a long ordeal for anyone who is not used to climbing high up or is only half-fit. By the way, if you want to find out how serious the conditions can become on Mont Blanc, I would recommend reading Simon McCartney's book, The Bond, which has a heart-stopping account of a rescue near the summit in the middle of a blizzard.
Near the top
Another reason why the mountain attracts so many is that it is an entry point to hundreds of other possibilities in the mountains, like a tollbooth. You feel you have paid your fee to go in and are ready to explore further. You might never go up Mont Blanc again but it is the start of something. Others don't think that way about the easier routes. They dismiss them as crowded motorways to the top. There is an element of that, yet what it means for you depends where you are in your mountaineering life. If you are already a grizzled mountaineer you will find other ways or other climbs. Also, it is worth remembering that even the straightforward approaches are subject to random dangers, such as falling rocks, crevasses and avalanches, and they become extremely hazardous in bad weather. Beginners need to take a guide.
We went up the Goûter Route, first catching the Tramway du Mont Blanc from St Gervais, hopping off at Nid d'Aigle. It is a pleasant ride with plenty of mountain views from the carriage window to keep the anticipation building for the two day trip. From the train stop you follow a winding path along a rocky ridge which takes you to the Tête Rousse hut and from there to the first challenge of the climb, the Grand Couloir.
Near the Grand Couloir
The Couloir has a reputation for flinging stones down in an unpredictable way and often at head height. You have to cross it and the best tactic is to cross quickly, clipping into a line which stretches across the gap, to save fallers, and hoping for the best. This time people were bunching at either side, so we had to wait, and the scramble across was too slow. There was a bit of slippage on my part, but we were on our way in a few minutes.
James at the Goûter hut
The objective for the first day was the Goûter hut, which looks like a space station glued onto the side of the mountain. There was a steep scramble up a lumpy backbone of rock, then we were at the snow line with a pleasant, level stroll over to the hut at 3,800m. The Refuge du Goûter sleeps and feeds 120 climbers, which gives you an idea of the popularity of the route. It is a very comfortable and friendly place but keep an eye on your stuff, because there can be mix-ups and the last thing you want is to be without a boot, a crampon or a glove up here.
As we unpacked, the crisp packets had puffed right out like balloons. It is high, the air is much thinner and people can start to notice the strain on their lungs. Headaches, faster breathing and brain-numbing fatigue are all likely for anyone who is not well acclimatised.
View from the Refuge
Early bed, a bleary-eyed breakfast at 1.30am, a scrabble to find all the gear in the boot room, then a 2am start for the top.
The trudge begins, legs a bit stiff from yesterday. There is a thrill, though, as crampons clink on the ice and hard-frozen snow, and the rope swings between us. Setting out in the cold of the night brings a moment of anticipation. This will be summit day, with any luck.
We are not the first out, so there is a path of boot-holes to follow and we can see two or three ropes on the route ahead, the climbers' head-torches making bright circles in the snow as they swing from side to side. Some of the way is quite steep and in places I need to tap the ice axe against the slope for balance, but mainly this is a stiff hike.
We skirt round the top of the Dome du Goûter, a large bump above the refuge, and after about two and a half hours duck in for a breather at the Bivouac Vallot at 4,300m, which is little more than a metal box on a rock, intended to be an emergency shelter. However, there must be a couple of dozen climbers in what is quite a limited space. Many have spent the night, avoiding the cost of staying at the Goûter. There is rubbish strewn around and some pretty disgusting human leavings. But it is a bit warmer.
Bosses Ridge
Leaving the Vallot behind, we head up a steep slope of snow. I am weary already. Maybe I am labouring a bit because of the thin air. I sing Molly Malone to myself several times to keep up a rhythm. But soon we are on the spectacular Bosses Ridge, the upturned bowl of the summit coming into view, the sky lightening. It is a lovely, sharp snow ridge. Our spirits rise. It's a clear day. We are nearly there.
James on the summit
We reach the top of Mont Blanc at around 7am. All the valleys around are filled with puffy clouds, some still in the shade, while an early, sideways sun lights up the surrounding peaks in brilliant white. We kept our attention frontwards on the last stages of the climb, intent on arriving without any mishaps. But now we can look around and take in the magnificent view of white-studded Alps as far as the eye can see.
Chamonix is under the cloud to the right
Some people carry on from this point to descend along the Trois Monts Route, which is the other straightforward way up the mountain. They can take the cable car down from the Aiguille du Midi and spare their knees from the rock-strewn paths beyond the Goûter. However, we turned around and went back the same way. By the time we reached Nid d'Aigle again our legs were turning to jelly. Not long after, though, we were downing a beer in the August heat outside the Bar Le Chamonix, with a clear line of sight back to the summit we had reached only hours before.
Of course all this happened a few years ago. I'm only recalling it for fun and for a bit of a diversion during our London lockdown. Also, nice to remember that we were able to send a healthy donation to SOS Children's Villages, thanks to generous support from friends.
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