Chamonix, France

Chamonix, France

“Look into my eyes! You can do this! Don’t look down! (It was a 1000 foot sheer drop from the icy ledge which I was clinging to in my ski boots). Get hold of yourself! I am going to tie you to me with a rope and I will lead you up the cliff” said the strapping young French alpine guide to a terrified frozen deer in the headlights…me! How did I get myself into this horrifying situation?

Each year my elder brother Jeff from Melbourne Australia and I arrange a ski trip together, usually with members of our family who all like to ski. This year family situations did not permit any of our children to join us. Jeff’s son Martin has ski apartment in Chamonix which was not rented for the week, so we decided to stay there. It is a small but comfortable French mountain space which looks out on to the craggy, jagged pristine Aiguille du Midi, 3842 meters straight up from the Chamonix valley. While I was looking up at it shining in the brilliant March ski, it brought back memories to me of the ski trip with friends 12 years earlier.

At the time, I was living in Zurich. A bunch of friends decided we would take the train and meet some running friends from Geneva and have a ski weekend in Chamonix. It was a good plan and we all met up on the Friday night and had a good time telling stories and planning our ski day on Saturday. There was some talk of doing the Vallee Blanche on Sunday, which is a 20 kilometer off piste trail from the top of the Aiguille Du Midi ending up the Mer de Glace. Saturday was a great day and we skied on the Grand Montee glacier which was not too difficult and warmed up our ski legs. I was still not convinced that I would be able to handle the arduous Vallee Blanche on the Sunday as some of the younger, more adventurous members of the group were planning. We were required to sign up the night before and arrange a guide for the trip. I was having a good time socializing and did not bother to register as I could have lots of challenge on the regular slopes.

Sunday morning came, and there was a lot of excitement at the breakfast tables about the upcoming day trip on the glacier. It was infectious, so I handed over a lot of Swiss Francs to the guide and I was signed up, with intrepidation. Could I do this? How steep are the runs? Is it safe on the Glacier as we had not had a lot of snow at that point in January?

10 of us skiers of all ages and abilities met up with the young French guide, who came with extreme alpine gear, crampons, ice axe and ropes tied to his back pack. We took the long, almost vertical cable car up to the summit of the Midi. I was looking out down at the green valley, wondering if there was enough snow on the Mer de Glass for our decent. The guide started to tell us the story of a Japanese skier that he had rescued from a crevasse the past weekend. He said he had been lucky as his skis jackknifed across the crevasse about 50 feet down and he was dangling from them. He was able to climb down and pull him out from the aquamarine endless shaft. What am I doing here? Went through my mind!

We exited the cable car, walked through the ice tunnel and came to the ice steps which led to a catwalk across the top of a sheer drop on both sides of at least 2000 feet. Fortunately they had a temporary guide rope along the way. The guide strapped our skis on our backs and roped us together and we proceeded in our ski boots down the ice steps, and on to the narrow icy slippery two feet wide catwalk for about 100 yards. You had to concentrate on one step at a time. Then the woman in front of me was terrified and slipped. The thought went through my mind “if I had a knife, I would cut her loose and let her go!” Fortunately she recovered and we made it to the safety of the glacier to start our long trek to the bottom, which would take all day.

The skiing was relatively easy, but because of the altitude, it was hard to breathe. We were instructed to diligently follow the tracks of the guide as he was familiar with the crevasses. Still you could hear the glacier cracking and moaning as we glided across the surface. All went well until we came to an ice bridge crossing of a deep blue icy crevasse. The guide insisted we rope each other together and cross the narrow icy bridge made of ice covering the unknown of the crevasse. It came to my turn; I was not particularly concerned and glided across the narrow path with ease, glancing down the aquamarine abyss as I went over it. We continued on our way and then I noticed footprints in the snow. “How could that be? It was 10 kilometers up and 10 kilometers to the bottom?” Then it dawned on me, this is the spot where the tourist fell into the crevasse and he had to walk down from there as his skis were stuck in the hole! The guide confirmed it. Did it make me feel better or worse?

During a delicious lunch in the refuge hut the guide informed us that there was not enough snow to reach the chairlift up to the tourist train where sightseers view the glacier and we would have to climb 4 steel ladders at the end to get the train out. There was no other way. I had seen postcards of the Mer de Glass with hoards of skiers hurtling themselves down, but today very few. It was because it was difficult to get out!

No Option! We were committed and we pressed on. Where the snow gave out at the end of the glacier, it was difficult to negotiate a clear path through the pools of melted snow and ice but we made it to the bottom of the gigantic 4 ladders up the rock cliff face to the train for our way out. I looked up and shook my head. I have difficulty walking in heavy awkward ski boots on a flat road, how would I negotiate these ladders bolted into the side of the vertical icy jiggered rock cliff face with my heavy skies strapped to my back in a crisscross fashion? I also wondered about the petrified woman who had been in front of me on the cat walk at the beginning. What was going through her head?

We started up, the first ladder was fine, but at the top of the ladder it was necessary to pull yourself up onto the icy narrow slippery pathway about 18 inches wide and stand on it before you get to the next ladder. I managed the first crossover but froze solid unable to move when I hoisted myself onto the path after the second ladder. I could not move, I looked down, it was straight down and one slip and I would be gone. I was holding up all the other skiers below as there was only room for one person on the ledge.

Eventually the guide retraced his steps and came up to me and shook some sense into me, shouting into my face, about 3 inches from my eyes “You can do it! Follow the footsteps of the person in front of you, you will be tied together”. Would you believe it was the terrified woman in front of me and she was doing well? “If she can do it, so can I!”

We made it to the top, took the train to the bottom and celebrated our adventure with some Pastis! We gave the guide a special tip!

When Jeff and I were buying the lift ticket for the week ahead he asked “Do you want the ticket which includes the Aiguille de Midi?” I think you know my answer!