So having spent a year trying to forget my depressing incident on the Grands Montet, the second attempt on the Chamonix Zermatt Haute Route finally came round on March 22nd 2009. I had booked the trip with Icicle, and it was scheduled for a five day ski leaving Chamonix Monday and returning on Friday. I didn't know who was going to be on the trip, so I figured it would be a chance to make new skiing friends. I arrived in Chamonix from Geneva on Sunday 22nd, intact and fully equipped (I hoped). I met the group, James and Emily, a couple from Leominster (Lemster I now know its pronounce d), Mark, a trainee GP and ex surgeon from London, and  Ben, who works for Google but was an ex barman from DickÕs T-Bar in Val D'Isere , and so could ski well. We had a bit of an introductory talk from Kingsley, Icicle's rep in Chamonix, and after a quick beer an early night in preparation for the attempt on the Col de Chardonnet the following day. Monday morning we met up with our guide Stefano, from the Grand Paradiso area in Italy. After a hearty breakfast and a fair bit of faffing around at the base making sure everyone's harness was on (in case of crevasses on the glaciers) we headed up the Grands Montet in beautiful sunshine around 10:00 with a mixed weather report that looked like we'd be fine for the first two days, but Wednesday and Thursday could be a bit dodgy. When we got to the top we shouldered our packs and for most of the group headed for the first time downhill fully loaded in touring boots, which was a bit of a shock to all the group, but particularly Mark and Emily. Mark hadn't done much skiing at all since switching to a snowboard in 1994 and Emily was on week seven of her skiing life, but young and fit she was game for a long slog but neither had ever toured before that weekend. We took a series of long slow turns down the Grand Montet, ducked under the rope and headed down onto the Argentiere Glacier in a line behind Stefano. After a short ski across, we removed skis and put on the skins and ski-crampons (harscheisen), had a quick drink and some chocolate and started the long haul up the Col de Chardonnet. The col is approached up the Chardonnet glacier which flows into the Argentiere Glacier at 2580m. There's 800m vertical of ascent with the first 200m being the steepest bit. It hadn't snowed for well over ten days, and the glacier had seen a lot of sun, and a lot of freezing afterwards, so it was icy in places and patchy in others. The first 100m was a tough climb, with maybe 5 or 6 steep kick turns to get up it. At one point Mark, James and Emily had to take skis off to cross a bare rock/earth patch, while I booted up the steep ice. I wasn't looking down, and it was only when I went to put my skis back on I realised we'd just booted up a 30ft cliff face. The first 100-150m took us nearly an hour and a half, my harscheisen catching the skis with every third step (turns out I had them on the wrong skis) and with the sun on our backs we were sweating when we had our first drink stop. Once the initial climb was over the glacier eases off a bit, and this was where Mark, James, Ben and Emily's fitness (and youth?) really started to help them. Stefano upped the pace a bit, and I was definitely bringing up the rear at this point. After another hour of skinning up we had two skiers coming down the glacier from the top to contend with. They looked like they were having fun, whereas we looked like overdressed tourists. I was counting off each 50m in vertical out loud, and it was clear we were increasing speed when we got to 500m. Another brief break for a kit-kat and a drink, and we started off for the top. By this time it was noon, and the sun was beating down. I was stripped to a base layer with my jacket and fleece in my bag, light gloves on and a baseball cap, having been persuaded by previous guides to leave my helmet at home for lightness. At this point I was thanking them for that advice, although that would change later.

For the last 100m I was counting out 10m increments under my breath, but well before I got to 800m according to my altimeter, Stefano stopped and called down to get skis and skins off and on our packs. While I was stopped and trying to attach my skis to my pack I suddenly realised I was no longer hot but getting very cold very quickly. At 3320m up, the weather can change like lightning, and that was clearly what was happening. The wind started coming in, and while the sun was still out, I was in the shade, and I wasn't working hard to keep warm. I suddenly realised I needed to stop messing about with my skis and get some more clothes and a hat on. I got my jacket and a hat on but already I was feeling the cold. Having finally got my pack on and caught up with the others, I could see Stefano attaching ropes to a rock at the top of the cliff. The other end of the rope dangled off into what looked to me like nothing, just thin air.  At this point I heard the immortal words from Stefano to Ben "there's no snow on the descent so we'll be abseiling down. Have you ever abseiled before?'. Ben, to be fair, didn't seem to flinch at this question, but just said "no, what do I do?' As on of the only two non climbers in the group I could empathise, but at that point was too cold, and in too fierce a wind to care. I just wanted to get down and out of the wind. Ben got connected up and walked backwards over the edge with Stefano shouting "just lean backwards'. It took him what seemed like a good ten minutes before the rope started to come back up, and Mark could rope up and go down. As he moved towards Stefano, James edged round the corner to get out of the wind and take Mark's waiting place and he dislodged a rock that fell over the edge down the couloir Ben had just descended. Oh, where's my helmet I suddenly started thinking. I'm now huddled down under the rock shivering, and while I'm out of the wind, I'm very cold, and wanting to get down and get some food. The sandwich in my pack is calling to me, but I have to wait for Mark, James and then Emily to go down. As Emily gets towards the bottom all I can hear is Stefano saying "lean back more' and Emily calling back "I've fallen down a hole'. Stefano's response "well climb back out again' didn't encourage me. At this point another group from behind appear, with an Aussie woman crying out, "I love it when the weather comes in'. Clearly not entirely sane, she's standing at the top in the teeth of the wind with her arms outstretched enjoying both the view and the thrill. Her guide (Thierry) and Stefano are in a fluent French conversation which is too quick or me to catch, and the next thing I know, Thierry is going down in front of me. Stefano tells me when I get to the bottom, follow Thierry, and he'll catch us up a we head for the Fenetre de Seleina, the 150m vertical boot up we have to do to get over to the Plateau du Trient where the hut is. It's now 3pm and the wind is howling. We can see dark snow clouds scudding along towards us from the west, but I'm just happy to get out of there.  I clip in and Stefano says, just lean back and walk down backwards. I'm too tired and cold to think about what I'm doing, so I just do what he tells me and he belays me down. I'm concentrating on where to put my boots as I go down and don't look either up or down until I get about 30m in from the top. At this point I realise that there's a lot more rope below me than above me and I decide not to look down. I keep on edging backwards, wondering when it's going to end, and trying to concentrate because although I'm OK with heights, I'm not very good with depths, and this has a feeling of depth to it. Eventually I look up and realise I can't see the top, so figure I can look down. Mistake. I'm about half way, and the rest of the group are looking at me grinning. The couloir is long, with patches of snow on it but mainly loose rock which gives way most of the time so swinging on the rope is common, and the guys below have got well out of the way. As I get close to them I hear them shouting at me to move away from the couloir towards them, which is what I do and almost immediately work out why. The bottom of the couloir is also the head of the glacier and there is a Bergschrund , a gap between the glacier and the cliff, which is about 1mt wide, and probably about 20m deep. This was the hole that Emily had descended into on the rope, but fortunately only a metre or so and could climb back out again. As I moved down I released the rope, and stood for about a minute shaking. For my first abseil it wasn't bad, but it felt scary as hell. The couloir is 100m high, about 2-3m wide and about 50 degrees, making it definitely an extreme but doable ski if it had good snow on it, but impossible without. I'd just got my skis off my pack, and on my feet and was about to get some food when Thierry says "lets go, its late" and we head off for the Fenetre. He sets off with a short ski to the corner of the next cliff and then everyone puts skins on. When you're ready he says and heads off towards an ascent that is no more than 500-600m away. That looks doable I think, but he sets off at a hell of a lick. However with the adrenaline going I'm feeling good, so I keep up with him and we get to the base of the climb in about 10 minutes. The snow on the ground is nasty though, icy and windblown but the wind is behind helping us along and although we're in the shade the visibility is fine. I get my skis off, and my skins off, although they're now pretty much frozen. They're inside my jacket to keep warm, and we head off up the fenetre , when we hear Stefano shouting from behind. Emily, thinking she's holding people up and seeing Stefano running towards us, speeds up and gets to us in time to get her skis off. Just then Stefano catches us up, and shouts "No, no, skis on, skis on' We're a bit confused until he says "wrong Fenetre, this is the Fenetre de la Tour, the way back to Chamonix'. Cursing Thierry, and devastated that this is the wrong way, we turn around and start to slip, slide and skid our way over a icy, wind-blown, packed down, bumpy glass field that we'd just skinned up. After maybe five minutes we get down to the bottom of the glacier we'd just skinned up, and onto a traverse, when my ski pops off. In the rush I hadn't clipped in properly and the first jar as I dropped into the traverse threw me out of my binding and onto the glacier below. I could hear Mark laughing as I was desperately trying to get my boots jammed in below me because I had no idea what was underneath the traverse. Glaciers in this region are heavily crevassed and sliding down one out of control is madness. I stop myself just twenty feet below the traverse, and start the horrible climb back up, but fortunately my ski has stayed where it was and I didn't have to go looking for it. With skis back on we go along the icy, nasty traverse, which would be fun on another day, and with food inside me. We go round the next mountain spur, and then I see the Fenetre de Saleina. It looks at least twice as big and more than twice as far as the Fenetre de la Tour. Moreover, now the clouds are coming in, its started snowing and its got really cold. I manage to get my skins on but they are not sticking well now they're cold and I have to work hard to get them to stay on. We now face a 30 minute skin up, which I feel is too much. I'm very tired, and very hungry. I haven't eaten more than two kit kats since breakfast and it's now 4pm. I've slogged up the Col, frozen my butt off at the top, fretted on the way down and now I've got to make it up this long slow slog. It's actually not that far and after 20 mins I reckon I'm only 100m away, but it doesn't get any closer. If anything it looks like I'm going backwards. The closer I get the worse the visibility gets so it looks too far. Eventually I stop and James behind me say's "You OK Dave?' I mumble "I need food. Gotta stop to eat' James passes me a snickers bar, while I get my water out. It's frozen. James' camelback is also frozen. Eventually he finds a bottle in his pack and I take a swig. With that I start again, knowing that it'll help but waiting for the sugar to kick in. In another couple of minutes we're at the bottom and I can take my skis and skins off, but I'm, thinking how the hell am I going to get up that. I attach my skis to my pack and look up. Emily is half way up with Mark just behind her. Ben is up there too, and James is already 10m ahead of me. I wearily shoulder my pack, put my head into the wind and start climbing, using my poles to help me. Within a few minutes however, I'm bumping into James in front of me, and feeling pretty good. The chocolate is kicking in and I begin to feel like I can do this OK again.

The climb is actually not too bad, about 30-40m vertical, but when we get to the top, it's howling with wind and snow, and the visibility outside the little dip under the rock we're hiding in is about ten feet. Stefano heads off into the mist saying "stick close together' and it's not until I get to the hut that Emily tells us that he was using the GPS system to find it because the visibility is so poor.  After about fifteen minutes slow skiing across the flats of the Plateau de Trient, the visibility lifts for a second or so and we can see the hut, and it looks abut half a mile away across the plateau – a short and quick ski I thought. Wrong. The visibility closed in again and we continued to ski along what I swear was a flat plateau for about 10 minutes.   Unfortunately the next time the weather cleared we were standing 60m below the hut at the bottom of a steep ski up, the wind was howling, the light failing and its snowing really hard. We need to get our skins on and get up to the hut. Unfortunately my skins by this stage were frozen. Covered in snow and extremely cold, they had absolutely no stickiness left in the glue. After two or three minutes the skins come off and I kept having to put them back on. After about fifteen minutes, and with help from James, I was still struggling, when Stefano showed up in front of me, and suggested that I give him my skis and walk the last 30m or so.  I handed them over and trudged through the snow, trying to keep to the path of the previous skiers, which was already being wiped out up to the hut.  I got  in, last, and pretty exhausted just before 6pm. After getting my boots off, I sat down at the table, and for the first time in 20 years of skiing thought about a different sort of drink at the  end of the day – tea. Hot sweet tea went round the whole group for about half an hour before we had the energy to get up, go and get our skins to dry, get out of wet clothes, and suck down a very welcome beer. Dinner that night, spag bol, was basic, but welcome hearty meal accompanied by a rustic (to be generous) Swiss pinot noir, followed by an early night.

Stefano warned us that we wouldn't be able to get an early start cos of the weather, so to sleep in. Unfortunately not all the guides told their groups the same thing, and at 5:00 in a room with 24 people sleeping noisily, one group gets up puts headtorches on, gets packed and dressed and heads downstairs. We're all awake from 5:30 at the earliest, but there's no point getting up. I gave up at 6:30 and went downstairs for an early breakfast. As I went downstairs I passed the other group going back to bed. Thanks guys. As Stefano had predicted there was no early start. By 8pm the guides were huddled together tryng to decide what to do. The weather was still howling, the wind was 120kph, there'd been about 70cm of snow overnight and the forecast was more snow for 2-3 days solid.  Eventually Stefano came over and told us that all the guides were agreed to leave together and get down to Champex while there was still time, and we were leaving at 9. We got our stuff together and headed out. Stefano took the lead with Emily and Mark behind him. It was clear straightaway that this was not the sort of skiing they were used to, and Stefano took them down turn by turn onto the glacier. I was asked to bring up the rear again, and behind me came the next guide. As we got down onto the glacier it was clear that there had been a shed load of snow. Some of the crevasses we'd seen the previous day were partially covered up, and the visibility was still poor. About five minutes in visibility cleared for a few minutes and we could see that the glacier was clearly blanketed in a beautiful cover of snow. It was a good 50cm deep, but instead of blasting through the powder, we had to sit there and track slowly behind a guide tacking a slow flat winding course down a glacier. The weather was now improving, still overcast but clearing and the guide behind me was struggling to contain his group's excitement who were itching (as were we) to ski the powder. As the woman behind me was saying "come on can't we let it rip' a bump to the side of me alerted me to a collapsing snow bridge on a hidden glacier. I think the guide had thrown something into it to shut them up, and it certainly worked. A 10m gash in the ice was now visible to my right and I wasn't going to get close enough to look how far down it went. There were ice sculptures now becoming visible and as the weather cleared for a bit the beauty of the glacier became apparent. You could finally realise we were in high alpine terrain, with all its associated stunning grandeur and intensity. As we skied down another guide came past us to talk to Stefano, followed by his group of two skiers. They then went ahead, and I could then see where we were. We were half way across the glacier with a long steep smooth slope between us and a huge cliff, 400m high ahead of us (the Petite Pointe d'Orny) and another one about 20m to its left with a col between the two cliffs, about 30m high, quite steep and to get to it, (and we were clearly going over it), we had to cross the glacier, and traverse underneath the right hand of the two cliffs. As we were traversing to it the weather closed in again and I had to wait, again at the back of the group while we moved, one by one across the open expanse of glacier about 50m from the cliff. As I was waiting another guide came up, Thierry from yesterday. I seemed to have to wait for ages under an ice expanse exposing a huge crevasse, stark, but beautiful with its shades of blue, green and white snow and ice, curved over and coiled like sitting above me like a breaking wave, frozen in ice. Stefano had made it clear he wanted us 8m apart crossing the glacier, and in his tracks. Once Ben in front was 8m ahead of me I started to cross, and then I could see why we needed to stay spaced. We were traversing across underneath a steep (35-40 degree) expanse of fresh snow which was probably 100 meters up and 40m across. It looked like a fantastic snow bank to me, but was clearly a serious avalanche risk. Unfortunately as I got half way across Ben stopped and told me to wait. He was underneath the cliff by this stage, and was well clear of the avalanche risk, or so I thought. I wasn't. For some reason there was a hold up ahead, but I couldn't see much past Ben. As I was watching snow started sloughing down from above the cliff, initially just a few drifts, but getting bigger in waves, until after about three or four minutes a big slough came off right on top of Ben. He hunkered down and it brushed over him, burying his boots in the track, and skittling off below him, but it was obviously enough to trigger the snow below him to slide, and a small slide triggered about ten feet below him and continued down about forty metres onto the glacier. At this point again the cloud cleared and I could see someone down in the glacier and the guides were shouting and Thierry went past me and told me to wait until Ben had moved. Eventually he started moving and I could see Emily had just started up the col, climbing with no skis, but booting up, and apparently helping a couple of the guys above her out. I couldn't work this one out as Stefano was nowhere in sight. I kept going and then Ben stopped just as I reached the cliff. James was trying to get to where Mark was taking his skis off at the bottom of the col, but while I was waiting the sloughing snow started coming down on me, wave after wave of light snow dropping on me like a light shower, and each wave slightly heavier than the last. I was willing Ben to move, but could see sloughs coming down between me and him. Eventually he moved on and I started after him. When I got to the bottom of the col I could see three guides down below us in the glacier. I took my skis off and started to put my skis on my pack when Ben says "pick your skis up and go, don't wait'. I started booting up and realised we were going up a really steep hike, with soft snow on top of icy weak snow underneath. Moreover there were very few boot steps cut into the hill. I thought this was odd going up as there must have been at least eight people up ahead of me, but I kicked the steps in and kept going. I could still see the guides below, and assumed that someone had dropped a ski, but I found out when I got to the top that the first guide and his group had been hit by an avalanche off the left hand cliff from above and swept off the col 50m down into the glacier. James described seeing him going off the col as though he was in a washing machine, head over heels over head over heals down into the glacier. He appeared to be OK, but some of the other guides were trying to help him find his skis and poles. Stefano appeared from above me, and was trying to spot his skis and poles from above.

I just kept moving up the col without thinking about what was below me, but it was very steep and with skis on one hand and poles over the other it was seriously scary. Eventually the pitch eased off and within a few steps I was at the top. I was taking off my pack and getting some food while we caught up with what happened and checked the situation. We were standing at the top of the Col des Ecandies looking down at the Val D'Arpette, and now it was clear. A big 50cm of powder was sitting in the Val with no tracks. Stefano was taking us down the middle of the valley rather than where I thought we would be heading, across the traverse to the right.   Stefano was definitely concerned – he asked everyone to wait up behind him and for Mark then Emily to go first, then everyone else to follow on his order. He makes a sharp turn to the left and then cuts underneath a cliff to the left. He stops, and does a step turn over and calls Mark and Emily down one after the other. Then one of the previous group starts to go, too excited by the powder to wait, and Stefano loses it with her. STOP he yells and she pulls up short just by the weight of his voice. He yells at her not to move, tells her off for going out of turn, and is clearly concerned.  He then tells everyone to wait and I start to realise what he's been doing. He's been cutting in through the snow, not carving through but angular to cut possible slides. He turns, cuts underneath the cliff triggers the slide below him. He turns back senses where its safe to ski and goes down on a regular rhythm through the powder, turn, turn turn turn and heads into the valley. Emily, Mark, and James go and then Ben goes. I start to head off after him but Thierry stops me. I wait, then wait some more until Ben's almost out of sight, and then let it rip through the middle of their tracks – turn, turn, turn, but not much, just a few degrees across the fall line. As it shallows the turns become less angular, more like a slow wiggle as each slight movement across the fall line slows me down as the powder is waist high. Eventually I can see Ben mainlining it on the flattening slope trying to keep speed up to keep it going. I follow him down but it at the very apex of the curve he loses the line and bails into the snow. I'm yelling at him to get up because I don't want to have to slow down and just as I'm closing in he gets up and starts to move. We keep going until it flattens completely and then we've caught up the rest of the group.

We have a short but slow haul up to a ridge where the weather comes back, biting and windblown for just a few mintues, then we drop down again into a long shallow ski down into Champex. A total of a mile of vertical drop (1600m) from the hut to Champex, in waist high (at the top) to boot high (at the bottom) untracked fresh powder. We arrive at 11:15 with a taxi waiting to take us to le Chable. When we get down to Le Chable we head to the Cafe to discuss what to do now. The weather has closed in. Verbier has only a few lifts open and the Mont Fort Hut is not accessible by lift. Not a problem in itself as we can skin up to it. However, the weather forecast is for heavy snow for three days, and that would mean committing to spending three days in the Mont Fort Hut. There's no weather window, and there's no hope of getting through to Zermatt on skis. The options are to head back to Chamonix and look for good weather, wait in the Mont Fort Hut for weather to clear to get to Arolla of Plafleuri or head back to Chamonix and then decide. The weather was clear just south of the Monte Rosa – Matterhorn – Grand Combin ridge lines, i.e. in Italy. Stefano, from the Grand Paradiso area in Italy had spent eight years in the Alagna Gressoney area of the southern Monte Rosa Alps. We decided as we couldn't get to Zermatt to spend three days skiing off piste in Alagna and Gressoney. We took the train from Le Chable to Martigny and then the Mont Blanc "Express' the worst named train in  the world - it takes 2.5 hrs to go 30 miles – but possibly one of the prettiest train rides in the world.  We got back, spent three days skiing in Gressoney/Alagna, staying in the Gugliemini refugio – not a hut, a hotel at the top of the mountain. We had to skin up to it on the second day because the lift wasn't working, but the hut was brilliant. Its food and wine was as good as the Trient's hut was bad, the welcome was fabulous and we slept like babies in the beds. Fabulous.

 

We didn't make it to Zermatt. We had as many adventures as if we had made it, but there you go. We covered approximately 40 of the 110 miles, but it felt like more. I'll do it again one day, maybe with the kids when they're older. I was the oldest of five, but younger than the guide.   The main thing that I was grateful for was a guide with an excellent humour  and ability to maintain calm under pressure. As Stefano said, "we used up all our luck today'. The conditions were harsh, the mountains beautiful but unforgiving. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, and I look forward to trying it again sometime.  I wouldn't do it again without a helmet, and I'm never skiing again without a beeper. Touring boots are rubbish – I'd rather go uphill on downhill boots than downhill on uphill boots, but a good freeride ski (I was on Monster Heads) with touring bindings kick ass.

Thanks to everyone for your support and encouragement. I'll post details of the final amount raised and where it's gone as soon as we wrap up the fundraising.

Dave Bates

April 2009.