Team Sherpa Blog

Back in the Saddle

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 06:38:54 +0100

My fellow sherpas I'm back in the saddle. This hiking season has been very different. I didn't much in because we welcomed a new member into family. So I have taken this mild detour and used it to center my adventure goals and get it a little better shape. Some short power hike on the Colorado National Monument that been good for both. So the next adventure it to the Ouray Ice Climbing Festival in January. Just thought I should branch out a little. If anyone out there has any words of wisdom just drop a note. Thanks and happy trails.

Mitchell Peak

Sat, 27 Dec 2008 04:47:02 +0100

Destination: Above the California Smoke Clouds of June 2008

How do you plan on doing that? Summit Mitchell Peak

Where? Jennie Lakes Wilderness - tucked in around Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Forest. Couple hours outside of Fresno, CA..

How long? Easy. 2,000 foot ascent over 3.1 miles

Wanna see more pics? Click here

Summertime 2008 was a mixed bag of spontaneous as well as planned adventures. The last weekend of June a few buddies and I decided to squeeze a hike in before I was to leave for Sedona and then the Osa Penninsula. At the time I was excited for the international trip that has since become known as the Great-Trip-Which-Wasn't. However, as of June 28, 2008, this bit of information was not so well known. And so, feeling the need to get outdoors and stretch without risking undue strain, Clay, Mark and I headed into the Jennie Lakes Wilderness nestled between Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Forest. Reaffirming what I've written before, the Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Forest areas contain some of the best of the Sierras - near pristine lakes, meadows, forests and streams with a fraction of the people. Apologies in advance, but most of the pictures peppering this blog were taken at the summit of Mitchell Peak; they may not correspond with the subject of each paragraph.

Wiki Jennie Lakes Wilderness and you will learn that it is a protected area of about nine square miles established when I was two. Within this small protected area are six lakes - the largest being Jennie Lake at an elevation of 9,000 feet. (Side note is that we hiked into Jennie lake at a later point in the summer. An entry with accompanying photos will follow in a future installment of this blog.) Us three guys in late June weren't so interested in swimming in a lake. We were interested in summitting the tallest peak in the 10,500 acre federally designated wilderness area.

At an elevation of 10,365 feet Mitchell peak offers commanding vistas and 360-degrees of unobstructed splendor. In the distance Mount Whitney, the highest summit in the contiguous United States and on my hit-list for a future ascent, can be observed in all her forsaken ugliness. Honestly, it is not aesthetically the prettiest mountain.

Since this is an international blog many of the readers may not be aware of the hundreds of fires which plagued California in the summer of 2008. (If you want to do some more reading on the fires, click here or here.) To set context I will recite some of the stats that were impressive. 19,240 people did battle with more than 1,400 wildfires which burned over 379,000 acres and claimed 30 homes. Big numbers somehow tend to lose their meaning. So, I'll bring it down to an anecdote about one of the larger fires. The Indians Fire raged in a local favorite spot of ours. The Ventana Wilderness area of Los Padres National Forest in Monterey County lost over 57,000 acres, 9 firefighters were injured, 2 homes and 13 outbuildings were destroyed and over a thousand homes were threatened. In addition, the Indians Fire curtailed our plans to hike Arroyo Seco not once, but twice this summer: first in June and then again when we decided to re-schedule in August. We thought 6 weeks would be plenty of time for the fires to get under control. So did the rangers. Unfortunately, we were all wrong. Hundreds more fires were going on at the same time throughout California in Napa, Solano, Butte, Mendocino and Monterey counties.

Although firefighters came from out of state and Governer Schwarzenegger called in the National Guard, there were not enough firefighters to contend with the blazes. Hence, the subtle distinction that 19,240 people fought the fires, not 19,240 firefighters. Many everyday citizens found themselves banding together fighting to save their properties. I recall hearing of merchants giving their inventory of shovels and gloves and other resources. Proprietors of local restaraunts in Mendocino County, I recall hearing on NPR at the time, cooked and quenched the thirst of their community members, refusing to pass on the costs to the fatigued amateur and professional firefighters. It was both a horrific and terrifying time, but also a time where the fundamental nature of man was revealed and we saw, contrary to Hollywood's stereotypical egocentric amd self-aggandizing portrayal, Californians' disposition to truly be their brother's keeper.

Well, not all Californians were so pious. When the debilitating air quality caused by the smoke of the fires - which led to health warnings in Redding and Bakersfield - spread to Santa Clara County, myself, Clay, and Mark decided to high-tail it out of town and seek refuge in the rocks over the clouds. San Jose looked how my mom described Los Angeles in the 70s. It wasn't until we were beyond Squaw Valley when the road broke the smoke-barrier and we found ourselves gazing up at blue sky for the first time in days.

Getting to the trailhead was a bit of a task in of itself. Coming from the west coast, we went about an hour and a half past Fresno along highway 180 into Sequoia National Forest. About 10 or 12 miles on Generals Highway and we hit Big Meadows Horse Corral road. We stayed on the paved portion for a little ways until we hit the Marvin Pass cut-off dirt road. All the while we were second-guessing whether we went too far or missed the turn-off, because there were some make-shift 4x4 trails that jetted off the paved road. The marvin Pass cut-off road took us up and to the right as we hooked around a steep bend and followed the dirt road to the trailhead parking lot - kicking up dust and rocking in our seats as the vehicle passed over the uneven terrain.

When we arrived at the parking lot we joined the ranks of a myriad of vehicle types: SUVs, trucks, luxury sedans, roadsters, and econo-whatevers. Despite the unpaved mile or two in, each found his way safely to Marvin's Pass. Having owned a couple of Civics, there's a lot to be said for entry-angle despite low ground clearance when setting out for remote trailheads. And you have to respect the guys who get out to the trails with nothing more than the tools at their disposal and their own personal drive. Hit the trailhead on your moped, scooter, segue, econobox, monster truck, hand cycle, mountain bike, tri-cross, roller skates, your own two feet - however you get there, once you're past that trailhead no charriots are allowed. Beautiful..

Leaving Marvin Pass Trailhead the incline begins immediately and does not let up. Mitchell peak is a straight-forward 2,000 foot ascent over the course of about 3 miles from the trailhead . Such a relatively quick elevation gain makes this hike not the best option for a family outing with young'uns. The three of us began the hike pushing ourselves a bit. About an hour into the hike, we found a couple logs, rested our packs and opened a couple of snacks. The drive and lack of food to that point had caught up to us. We finished the ascent within the following hour. In the shade of the spruce trees leading up to the barren, rock-ridden summit were patches of snow preserved from the winter past. Wish I would have been able to capture on film the juxtaposition of the whiteness of solidified precipitation in the foreground with the murky pinkish haze of the ominous smoke clouds in the distant background to the northwest.

Returning our line of sight to the summit, our eyes met the healthy blue hue of unadulterated atmosphere. We relaxed for a little while. Some fellow hikers mentioned they heard we could see Whitney from there, however they were confused amongst themselves which one of the many peaks within view was Whitney - even to which general direction they should be focusing. Mark, relying on his Marine Recon training as a navigator took on the task and was soon pointing us all towards a small peak across very distant lands. Due to the illusion of size over distance, the peak looked on par or even shorter than other peaks - however it was noticeably further out than any comparable peak.

Clay found himself enamored by the minefield of boulders going down the west of the summit. Restless as he typically is we found ourselvs calling down to him. Rather than have him scramble back up the summit, we decided to join him on a cross-country trek. We knew where the car was having bread-crumbed our tracks using a trusty Garmin and figured we'd loop out west, down the side of Mitchel Peak and cut back up north to Marvin Pass. The minefield of rock morphed into loose dirt and low foliage on a steep grade. I found myself mock-skiing down the side of the mountain, sunk deep into the loose dirt as I engaged a controlled slide. Luckily, the high-tops of the boots kept any dirt or pebbles from entering inside the boots.

We came to a more level (and stable) section and began our trajectory north. We were amongst Spruce trees and taller foliage. The descent went considerably more quickly than the ascent. We soon hooked back up with our original trail and made our way back to the car. All said and done, including the leisurely stay at the summit and the impromptu descent, we were gone about 3.5 hours from the vehicle.

Cirque Peak

Sun, 14 Dec 2008 21:51:28 +0100

A slow start to a cold day. I was shaking the frost off the tent at around 7.00, which is my gentle way of letting Carmen know that it’s time to wake up. Conor and Lex tumbled out of their tent soon after, into the cold wet morning that hung around us like a damp towel. We rolled up our kit and it quickly became clear that a hot greasy breakfast was the only thing that could save us now. We pulled out a map and decided that Cirque Peak (2993m) would be the days objective, conveniently placed a few km down the road from the campsite and just after the restauraunt at Saskatschewan Crossing.

With a belly full of bacon and eggs we slung on our packs at the Helen Lake trail head. The fog and mist had lifted somewhat, and the sun was timidly trying to help us out a bit. The trail was a slippery mess of tangled routes and muck, a few cm of snow lay on the ground having fallen during the night. The trail headed up into the dense forest, and we slogged away for about 45 minutes. As we passed the 2200m mark, the trees began to thin and The impressive crowfoot glacier gleams at us from across the valley. Conor and I are ahead of the other two, we take a break neck pace up the last 200m of acent to gain the stunning Dolomite Pass. It’s a huge alpine pass that is dominated on the west side by Dolomite Peak (a loftier goal for another time…) and on the East by the extent of the long tentacle of Cirques’ southern ridges. To the North is our goal, cloaked in snow and snagging wisps of cloud. The sky is blue now.

The walk up the pass is fantastic. Snow lays like a polyester lining just barely covering the grass which pokes out in tufts here and there. Massive erratic boulders line up like soulders just above us. a sliver stream slip its way in twists from the unseen lake ahead. We slowly approach Helen lake in awe at this beautiful, unspoilt spot. So often I have been to alpine lakes in other mountains, and so often they are marred by marks of fire and camping, plastic bottles and wine corks. Not so here. There is barely a footprint here to let you know that people have dread here, I have a hair raising sensation that I am disturbing a secret place. We find a flat boulder to take a break and slip on our insulating layers- a wind is blowing down from the peak, and the cloud has come in again. Snow begins to gently fall as Carmen and I make final adjustments for the 500m scramble up the summit ridge.

From the mirrored surface of the small lake, we skirt around and begin to climb up through a rock band to gain the eastern side of the long ridge that will lead us up Cirque. In 20 minutes we come over the lip of the a cliff, and the huge and daunting expanse of Dolomite pass unfolds beneath us. It looks like something out of the southern Alberta badlands, a desert of sorts that is closed in to the north by the jagged eastern ridges of Cirque and to the south by Dolomite Peak itself. I can only imagine the possibilities for snowshoeing this area in the coming winter…

We turn Northward, and start the short steep climb up onto the ridge. The footing is tricky at best- dirt, with a consistency of oreo cookie crumbs makes going slow. As we approach the ridgeline, ice replaces dirt and we both pull out ice axes and plunge our way up the remaining few meters onto the broad sloping trunk of the ridge.

A freezing wind greets us, and the ground is firmly frozen. Snow has already solidified here, which is great news as it is thick enough in places to have held together the loose talus that would have made the remaining 250m climb to the summit grueling. Instead of the ankle twisting rocks, a white boulevard flows upwards. The views are already stunning, but visibility is quickly declining. A dark, thick sky frames the peak.

We slowly plod on upwards, through an increasingly bitter wind. About three quarters of the way up, we break for a moment and snap a few photos of the massive towers of Dolomite peak behind us. As we put our pack back on, a brilliant sun chases away the clouds and the wind dies down- it looks like if we can make a quick climb from here, we should have a stunning view from the top!

The ridge line gets very steep for the last 75m or so, and we approach the rock wall below the false summit. We meet two other hikers here that look a little worse for the weather. They take a look longingly at our gaiters, mittens and ice axes- the terrain here is not exactly technical, but this sort of scrambling requires more than a pair of day-hikers and a windbreaker. It always amazes me when I meet people who are not prepared for the elements, and I always remember the oldest rule in mountains- expect the best, but prepare for the worse.

We quickly find a cleft up through the rock wall, and slither our way up through the snow and ice covered rock to a small cairn. Spread out to the south is the broad alpine pass we’ve ascended from, framed by Crowfoot. To the north, just over the lip of the abyss is the steeply sloping snow slopes of the north side of Cirque, and to the East and just below eye level is the stunning blue of a massive tarn hiding like a secret gem in the range just beyond. It is the end of September, and the seasons have begun to fight out for supremecy- snow and ice lie all around us at this altitude, but the valley floor on the dolomite side breaths a warm desert wind and the west everything is still green. We make a few photos from the small pinnacle, and decide to head back down. The true summit requires us to dip steeply down a slightly exposed ridge and then climb an even more exposed (and slick snow covered talus) spire. Plus, even as we bask in a beautiful afternoon soon we are watching another weather front push in from the North. Before we leave our perch, I pull out a small radio and call down to Conor and Alexis to let them know that we are safe and enjoying the view, but we will be down an hour later than expected.

Using our ice axes all the way back down, we make great time with the wind at our back this time. Once over the ridge and back onto the Dolomite side of the pass, a gentle snow starts to fall. The sun is blazing, but the temperature is hovering around -2C and the tiny snowflakes are shining like diamond shavings as they gently fall around us.

We make the steep decent back down to Helen lake, but everything looks different now. The afternoon sun that we enjoyed up top has burned off the soft blanket of snow and now the whole pass is glistening and green, lush and awake. A stunning change to the surrounding we came through hours earlier. I’m not a huge fan of “out and back” hiking, but this trip hardly counts as; the way back is a complete change from the way out! The gurgleing brook that we encountered in the morning is now a surging creek, and I stop to clean up my boots. Carmen and I both take few mouthfuls of the crystal waters and head back down the pass, along the frosty flanks of Dolomite.

Once in the car, we head back up the parkway to the David Thomson highway. We stop in Nordegg for an early dinner, and I have a sad feeling in the pit of my stomach. This trip will mark the end of the mountain season for me. As we discuss the past months and trips, talk about the mountains visited and mountains glimpsed quickly moves to the planning stage for next year. My spirits start to rise as I we go through plans and potentials, hopes and goals and I know I’m in good company to sit out the long winter…

Mont Blanc

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 16:01:41 +0100

Horace-Bénédict de Saussure, an aristocrat and a physicist from Geneva Switzerland was interested in geology and was a keen alpine traveler in the late 17 hundreds. He had been looking through his scope towards the highest peaks in the Alps and made calculations that a huge white dome and a mountain massive above a valley of Chamouny would have to be the highest one in the Western Europe and in the Alps. De Saussure offered few gold Thalers to the first who would summit the majestic dome of La Dame Blanche. 8^th of August 1786 doctor Michel Paccard and a local chamois hunter Jaques Balmat made the first accent to the summit of Mont Blanc. That was probably the start of a mountaineering as an activity it self and started first form of the mountain climbing tourism.

Over the centuries and decades thousands have set their foot to the summit of Mont Blanc, many triumphs and incredible stories and legends surround that mountain massive. Especially one endeavor by an Englishman named Albert Richard Smith made the news when he and his companions reached the summit in 1851. On their way to the top of Mont Blanc they consumed ninety-six bottles of wine, champagne and cognac and naturally passed out drunken right to the summit. After surprisingly returning alive, Albert Smith performed in 2000 shows called ‘Mont Blanc’ over six years helping to popularize mountain climbing in mid Victorian Britain.

Easy access, variety of technically less demanding routes and proximity of big villages and towns, make Mont Blanc tempting target for many tourists and mountaineers. Big scale high mountain environment and dramatic weather changes can make a standard walk in the mountains turn to a struggle for survival. Up to this day over thousand mountaineers have not make it back alive and unfortunately too many of them because of the lack of experience and respect towards the elements of the big mountains.

We arrived to Chamonix in the Friday afternoon and it was raining. As we roamed across the town looking for a accommodation, we only hoped that it would not dump too much snow up in the high glassier. We ended up renting a studio flat from Chamonix syd, which economy accommodations are quite bearable during the summer, but in wintertime the youths keep the neighborhood awake and alert 24-7. We took the next day also easy and relaxed after the Dent d’ Herenz effort. The weather was also rather miserable, so all we could do was to plan our possible routes to Mont Blanc.

At this time of the season there are basically two options from Chamonix. The Gouter route is quite secure (grossing the Grand Couloir can be dangerous), but the hut climb is long an the Gouter Hut for sure is not kind of the place where you will enjoy yourself staying over night. It is located on the top of the steep rocky section towards Aiguille du Gouter at the height of 3817hm. It is cold, damp, crowded and a filthy place to spend a night in quite high altitude.

The other option is to start from the Cosmique Hut from the Col du Midi. The summit push is longer, steeper and technically more demanding, but the hut climb is easy half an hour from the Aiguille du Midi cable car. On this route however the snow cover has to be vary stable. Third route called Grand Mulets is not possible at this late in the season.

The weather forecast said that it would give two clear days starting from Sunday, so we made a plan to go up then. It was impossible to get two punks reserved from the Gouter hut, so we focused ourselves on the Mont Blanc Traverse route over Col du Mont Maudit.

Monday morning the sky had cleared and we were anxious to get up to the Midi to see how the route would look like after few days of snowfall. We arrived to the top station at noon and the bright sun was reflecting from the virgin snow on the north faces of the Tacul and Maudit. We spend almost an hour at the café watching through my binoculars trying to see, if there would be any trail going up.

All the bergschrund crevasses seemed to be covered with snow…a good thing.. and a bad at the same time. With new snow there are more bridges, but it is more difficult to judge where it would be safest to gross the crevasses. The other problem with the fresh snow is, that it makes the climb really strenuous if you have to brake the trail all the way.

Even it did look like there was no climbing party thinking of going up, we decided to walk down to the hut since it was so close. In that way we could give it few more hours to see if the situation would change. The Cosmique Hut is only 30min walk away from the Aiguille du Midi cable car and one can have much better view to the route up the north face of Mont Blanc du Tacul.

The route up the Tacul face varies from season to season and after every major dump. It is considerably steep at the places and there are two to three bergschrunds to deal with. In 2006 we had a dramatic close call with the face. After summiting the Tacul with a half an hour margin away from the face, a huge serac from the top of the face fell and launched a massive wet snow avalanche sweeping away and burying some ten climbers from their decent.

We spend almost two hours at the hut trying to asses the situation, but by four o’clock there still was nobody else at the hut besides us, so we decided to take the last cable car back down to the village to wait for a couple of days for the new snow to settle and possibly some new tracks to form.

Monday we made a short trip to do a little rock scrambling in la Flegere and on Tuesday it started to rain again. We spend the whole day just chilling in Chamonix hoping that it wouldn’t snow too much higher in the mountains. The forecast promised again two day window with clearer but a bit windier weather starting from Wednesday. That would be our last change on this trip to try to make a try for a summit, so we booked again two places from the Cosmique.

Again we enjoyed that stupendous view from the balcony of the Cosmique hut. The hut has been built right at the edge of the Col du Midi facing the Mont Blanc range and vast Bosson classier. The route up the face of Tacul didn’t still look the best possible, but now there was a fresh path going up. The only worry to me was, that the trail was a pretty much a direct line underneath some hanging seracs. The face is about 400-450m high and like I commented before rather steep. A direct line climb really means ‘climb’ and the bergschrunds require front pointing.

Wake up call was at 2 am and I probably had only slept about an hour and a half in short periods since there was very crowded in the hut and the anticipation of the climb made my thoughts run wild. We wanted to escape the morning hurly burly and quickly had some tea and crackers and put on our gear and started the approach to the Tacul wall.

We were the third rope at 3am that morning to start the climb up the Tacul face and towards Mont Maudit and Blanc. Our climbing pace was good and without stopping we gained height very steadily. I was bit anxious since the snow was not to my liking. Even it had been very cold in the night, there only was very thin layer of crust and the snow underneath was like baking powder. The trail was very fresh and after every step you would slide downwards since there was not enough hard snow or ice where the crampons would’ve bitten properly. Also the silhouette of huge leaning seracs against starry night sky right above us did not ease the anxiety. Instead of the pretty much direct line upwards, I would’ve preferred to make a little longer but more switch back route up and so get away from immediate danger of the serac fields above.

I thought, that at least we have the weather on our side and hopefully the frost and a cold night have made the face more stable. Never the less we made the fastest altitude gain of our climbing when we cleared the north face of the Tacul and almost 500hm in little over an hour. Fortunately we had only a thin under layer of clothing on since otherwise we would have been soaked with sweat. However as we were grossing over a wide crest leading to Mont Blanc du Tacul and starting to decent towards Col Maudit, a freezing wind from the Bosson glassier forced us to stop and adjust our gear.

While we had a quick snack and put on more layers of clothing, we also had a change to asses the route ahead. If the Tacul face had felt a bit intimidating, the view ahead in a pale light from the moon and the stars for sure was at least breath taking. The scale of the north face of Mont Maudit from down the Col is just incredible. The height is once again close to 500 meters and it is even steeper than the Tacul. The face forms kind of a gigantic amphitheater starting from the Pointe Mieulet to the summit of Maudit and then continuing towards Tacul.

Our route followed the 4000 meter line underneath the summit and then steeply upwards to the Col du Mont Maudit at 4345m. A fierce really cold wind was howling in our ears and blasting millions of icy crystals into our faces and made them really sore. It was still dark at twenty past five when we reached the start of the fixed ropes that lead to the Col. There are several old ropes partially buried in the snow and ice attached to the face where one can attach himself with a sling loop and thus get a better feel of confidence and security. Even through a darkness I could feel how the face was disappearing into the abyss underneath me.

After clearing the ropes and reaching the Col, it was getting just light enough to see the last long part of the climb all the way to the summit of Mont Blanc. At this point we had planned to follow the ridge and make an effort for the summit of Mont Maudit, but the climb so far had been rather strenuous so we had to make a quick discussion about the situation. Because of the uncertain conditions of the Tacul wall, I did not want to decent it in the afternoon and possibly risk a serac fall or a wet snow avalanche. Thus the only option to me was to push to the summit of the Mont Blanc and decent via a longer but much safer Bosses ridge to the Gouter route. The remaining climb to the summit still required over 500hm and the decent would take several hours and some 3000 vertical meters.

Samu agreed with the new plan, so we continued our climb along an inclined icy and snowy west face of Maudit downwards to Col de la Brenva. Roughly an hour later after starting the fixed ropes, we reached the Brenva Col to witness magnificent sunrise from the Italian side.

The last 500 height meters to the summit from Col de la Brenva is a monotonous ice plot where you don’t think nor see much. Climbing pace for us in that cold morning is slow but steady and I just keep on moving my feet in front of the other. I don’t know how many steps I’ve taken, but I don’t feel like stopping either. I keep on following the worn out trail along the endless slope upwards passing le Corridor, Mur de la Cote and leaving le Grand Plateau ice field on the west lower and lower. We don’t change any words between us and even two short stops that we make are almost instinctive.

At 9 o’clock we finally reach the summit dome feeling….well, I have to really stop and try to grasp what I’m feeling. Some guidebooks claim that reaching the summit of Mont Blanc is big anticlimax. After a big effort ‘being forced to share’ the mountain with many others you only end up with a diminishing view around since there is nothing above you to look at.

I scan the scenery around me and try to recognize the landmarks near and far. From the west I can just see the most western 4-thousender in the Alps, Grand Paradiso. Close by is Mont Blanc de Courmayer and then the Aosta valley in the clouds. Turning to East, I can spot the Monte Rosa massive with Matterhorn, Dent d’Herenz, Weisshorn and Grand Combin in the front. To North East and North there are all the familiar summits and peaks around the Vallee Blanche area which I love so much.

The Aiguille du Midi looks like a tiny spike far, far away and it is amazing to see the distance we’ve climbed from there. The village of Chamonix at the end of le Bosson ice stream looks familiar and alien at the same time.

It is very cold and the strong gusts make it very difficult to stand still. I am overwhelmed, incredibly happy and content and as we hug with Samu, it feels like we are putting a conclusion to something we’ve started together so many years ago. Walking down the long Bosses ridge watching down south towards Mont Blanc glassier on the Italian side and the more familiar views on the French side makes me feel anything but anticlimax.

The long Gouter route follows the ridge down to Vallot refuge hut, where we take a short brake. The wind is not so fierce anymore and as we continue down and little up towards Dome de Gouter the power of sun starts to feel and take its toll. Somewhere around one pm we reach the filthy Gouter Hut where we stop to refuel ourselves with cold and horrible vegetable soup and a can of coke.

The decent from the hut is steep rock scramble to Tete Rousse glassier about 600 meters lower with spectacular view to Aiguille de Bionnassey to the west. Before the glassier, there is the most dangerous part of the decent when you have to gross about 50 meters wide Grand Couloir. After the short glassier grossing we lighten up the gear and take off the ropes, harnesses and crampons.

Our plan is to take a mountain tram from Nid d’Aigle 2372m down to Bellevue cable car and from there a lift down to the village of Les Houches. The tram station is packed with climbers and scenery tourists and we are told, that there is not a single seat available. We bite our lip and continue to walk down along the railway tracks with sore feet for 560 more meters down to the cable car. At 6pm we lean against the wall at the bar in Chamonix and look up to the White Lady still basking in the sun and have toast with cold beer.

The next two days we drive back to Milan and hear from the news in the radio that there has been a disaster in Mont Blanc. On Sunday morning at 3am on the same route on the Tacul north face, which we were going up three days before, a large serac fell from above. A big avalanche from that buried 16 climbers and tragically eight climbers lost their lives.

The route and a point where the big serac fell on Sunday morning.

‘Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again!

…

Me thinks I hear

A spirit in your echoes answer me,

And bid your tenant welcome to his home

Again!’

S.KNOWELS

Trekking in Oman

Tue, 25 Nov 2008 19:13:13 +0100

We've just got back from a scuba diving, sea kayaking and mountain walking trip in Oman. This destination is still relatively new on tourist trail so information for planning trips can be difficult. Here is a synopsis of some of the useful information we found!

Roads

Driving in Oman is hairy to put it mildly. If you want an easy time - pay for a vehicle with a driver. A lot of tour operators offer this service and it is worthwhile. The road system around Muscat is being rebuilt and changing daily. This makes navigation almost impossible! There are hardly any maps as the roads keep changing so everyone navigates using the roundabouts. These all have symbols on them, e.g. book roundabout (near the university.) Also, google maps are used by everyone, so if you have this ability on your phone - use it.

A lot of the roads in the mountains are steep and unsealed. 4wheel drive is a must on some of these. The driving was scary, spectacular and awesome with steep drop offs, amazing views and unbelievable cambers!

Maps

Maps are really hard to come by either outside or inside the country. This makes planning difficult but we did find some! Big country maps are easy to come by. These are usually huge scale but useful for identifying general areas. For example, the Jebel Akhdar range of mountains is very obvious if you go for a topical map. We managed to get an arial map (designed for pilots) from Stanfords, the map shop in London. They do a mail order/internet service which is useful. However, they failed to obtain an admiralty map for us so planning for the sea kayaking was difficult. Google Earth is used by everyone in Dubai or Oman as the road systems change so frequently. We printed out our seakayaking route before we left the UK. In addition, we had 3G phones so we could google map & GPS when needed. This came in very handy when seakayaking as Jonathan's rudder broke making paddling difficult. We used my iphone to locate our position on GPS, work out the nearest landing place using Google Maps and then telephone for a pick up! Oh, the wonders of technology!

The Explorer books proved very useful - see below.

Books

The Bradt travel guide was useful as a starting point for finding ideas. Some of the information was inaccurate (mainly prices) and some of the food ideas were not inspiring. In fairness, this is probably because the food was uninspiring!

The Adventure Trekking Guide was useful but with qualifications. The maps are incredibly difficult to understand as they are all hand drawn routes in the "Wordsworth" style. The routes are mostly one way with a design to carry your own camping kit. Oman is not a great place for this because the availability of water in the mountains is very scarce so you have to carry a lot of fluid. There was a sad lack of circular routes. Some of the routes are climbing routes - so be careful to pick appropriate levels!

The Oman Off Road book published by Explorer publishing was an accidental find in Dubai. This range of books is fantastic and would have helped greatly in our planning - if only we'd known that it existed! There are lots of driving routes with small and longer treks shown off these. The maps are all Google Earth with clear roads listed. The routes which require 4WD are clearly marked too.

The Trekking in Oman book published by Explorer is very hard to come by - but when we found it after our trekking - seemed really good. It is basically a pack of pamphlets showing the routes for each area. If you have been spoilt by Ordinance Survey maps like me you might be a bit disappointed, but they are still very usable.

Sea kayaking

This is really hard to arrange in advance because of the lack of maps. We ended up kayaking from Qantab (south of Muscat) to Quryat (further south.) We hired kayaks and paddles from Muscat Diving and Adventure centre. They only have big barges of kayaks which are quite heavy. They are pretty stable though which is useful as the swell and chop can be quite interesting (particularly in the afternoon when the wind picks up.)

Unfortunately, there was a very bad algal bloom for the 3 weeks we were there, including the 3 days of kayaking. This meant that the water stank, visibility was about 6 inches (no good for snorkelling or diving) and sadly there were a lot of dead fish. Otherwise the first day would have been really good for kayaking. The beaches are fine for camping and you can camp almost anywhere (it is not advisable to camp very near villages though.) There are several villages you can stock up on water at as well as provisions. The tidal range was nearly 3 metres when we were there so there was a lot of boat manoeuvering in the evenings!

Diving
We did a live-aboard around Mussandam leaving from Dibba. We had some good dives, but the algal bloom (red tide) made visibility very poor at times. Otherwise, the Al Marsa diving boat was a good set up with decent food, reasonable cabins and good sites. It is pricey though.

The Great Trip Which Wasn't

Mon, 24 Nov 2008 08:30:32 +0100

Date: Sometime in July

Summary: The Unraveling of a Year-long Plan

Location: Close to Paradise

Nearly 4 months have passed since blogging about the last adventure. Hiking the Salkantay Trek into Machu Picchu was simply amazing. Since then I have been able to pursue more great adventures across California and into Arizona. Perhaps the most fitting story from the past few months to share after such a protracted absence is of the great trip which wasn't. Besides, many enjoy a story that can capture the foibles of human nature.

Recently I had the opportunity to hear Greg Mortenson, founder of the Central Asia Institute and author of Three Cups of Tea, speak to an intimate audience of about three dozen people. One of his opening comments was on his insistence to begin Three Cups of Tea with a chapter entitled "Failure". His justification to the publisher - who thought starting a book with such an entitled chapter would seal its fate likewise - was that failure is the way we learn. In college Greg had a 1.82 GPA. He failed his first driver's license exam. He admitted his first relationships were little different. In fact, the event which precipitated Greg's working to bring schools for children, specifically girls, in Pakistan and Afghanistan was a failed attempt at K2 followed by a failed attempt at returning down the mountain. Nevertheless, through persistance, challenging traditional convention and questioning basic tenets he learned how to make a difference through cycles of continuous improvement and adaptation to this enigmatic thing called failure.

As Edison said, "I have not failed, I’ve just found 10000 ways that won’t work." Lest I set myself up for failure in relaying this story, I must qualify that the end-state of this anecdote is not quite as profound as Edison or Mortenson's statements. I just wanted to cite them.

In July Eamonn, a longtime friend and confidant, had returned home from serviing in the army in Afghanistan - performing recon in the mountainous regions. We had planned a trip into Costa Rica for over a year - fly into Phoenix to pick up Eamonn, spend the weekend in Sedona with the girls and then fly down to San Jose, hop a puddle-jumper into Drake Bay and spend the following ten days in the Osa Penninsula. We found what was reviewed to be an outstanding resort for what we were seeking (Corcovado Adventure Tent Camp) and put down our deposits. Lodging would be book-ended for the first and last three days in heavy-duty tents on the shore - straddling sands and coastal rainforest, with spider monkeys dangling from the trees above. The middle three days were to spent trekking through the coastal rainforest of the Corvovado National Forest. We booked our flights both internationally and domestically well in advance.

By the time late June came around, I was getting psyched for the ensuing Costa Rican adventure and had finalized all plans. Little did I know when I would arrive in Phoenix in early July that some news would await me. Upon returning stateside my good friend had treated his sweet fiancee to a romantic cruise. When they returned to their beautiful home she began taking care of odds and ends, including the laundry from their trip, and had omitted to clean out the pockets. Eamonn's passport went through wash, spin, and dry cycles. The backing of his passport began to separate from the photograph when it dried. Mold formed on the picture of his face.

Needless to say, we went on to enjoy our excursion to Sedona over that weekend. That Monday when we were supposed to depart Sky Harbor for San Jose, Costa Rica, TSA would refuse to let him leave the country with a mutilated passport. The airline representative took pity and reimbursed our international flight. Corcovado Adventure Tent Camp, despite being against standard policy, offerred some concessions which were extremely generous given the circumstances. (I would highly recommend them and look forward to re-booking a stay at their resort in the future.) My employer graciously welcomed me back from PTO a week early. (Given my recent transition in roles much had piled up in just the week I was gone.) All-in-all we were fortunate. Weather forecasts for Costa Rica were pessimistic and we speculated the inability to execute to the year-long plan was in fact a blessing in disguise. Perhaps we may never understand why, but our faith is such it was for the best.

Although exploring the Corcovado National Forest was postponed indefinitely, the summer remained productive for hiking and other adventures. Luckily, from late June through about mid-September, I was blessed to be party to many successful adventures. Most of which I hope to finally share on the Team Sherpa blog. Stay tuned for more stories from this urban outdoorsman sherpa.

Village Walk - Oman

Sun, 23 Nov 2008 17:52:16 +0100

This is an easy short trek through a village in the mountains of Oman called Misfat Al Abriyeen. It's about 2 - 3 hours from Muscat in the mountain range that includes Oman's highest peak - Jebel Shams.

The walk starts from a car park at the start of the village where a walking map is conveniently displayed.

The walk starts with a walk through the village itself. This is quite eye-opening as it is still a very much lived in village. The houses are one or two storeys high at most, quite small and close together. This means you have to walk down very narrow alleyways and under arches that have been there for hundreds of years.

The villagers seem very used to visitors and didn't seem upset by us walking past their front doors. There was no hassle with people trying to force carpets on you either!

There are several routes that you can take once in the village itself. We chose W9 on the map. The route is signed by tri-colour painted symbols on walls & rocks. At times these can be hard to spot, but the locals are happy to help out if you get stuck!

The village starts at the top of a hill and spreads down the valley (known as the 'wadi' in arabic.) Once you've gone past the first initial houses, you go past the mosque with a fresh water supply outside. This is known as "sweet water" - and useful as a top up in hot weather conditions (although personally, I'd still purify it!)

The track then winds out of the village itself into the growing areas of the village. These terraces are irrigated by the fajal system introduced by the Persians hundreds of years ago. The track itself follows some of these waterways so you can see the water flowing alongside the fields.

The route eventually ends up at the end of the valley (wadi) in a heap of boulders. You'll know you are there as there is one of the many shelters from the sun on your left, a fajal on your right and boulders ahead.

To return, we retraced our steps until we reached the village buildings. We then joined track W9E which starts just below the mosque. This takes you up the other side of the village where there are more date palms. You can see the dates themselves being dried on the edge of the track or the walls of the fajals.

Report from Ethiopia!

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 07:36:50 +0100

After trekking on Mt. Kenya, it was time to get on the bike again! Towards Ethiopia.... Unfortunately, we had to take trucks between Isiolo and Moyale in Northern Kenya due to safety reasons, bu we managed to get off in Marsabit and explore the area for a day.

Northern Kenya is pretty much a desert, but Marsabit is a little oasis on it's own. After the Kaisut desert, Marsabit consists of vulcanic cones in a suddeny much greener landscape. And wouldn't it be nice to see the view? We set off for a little hike on Mt. Marsabits highest point: Karantin (1707 metres). It is a small mountain, but there's elephants and goatherders on the mountain. The track is basically non existent but after a good hour we reached the top. The view was indeed very nice: you could see the deserts in the distance and the green area around the town of Marsabit. Definetely worth the hike when you're around!

By now we have reached Ethiopia and it has proven very..... hilly! Truth be told: I would prefer to hike than to bike here! There's some impressive mountainranges in Ethiopia, including the Bale and Simien Mountains. Not sure if we have the time to do some trekking there, but we'll see how we go. Keep checking www.beetroute08.blogspot.com for the latest news!

Back to Kullen

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 16:39:41 +0100

Kullen turen

The approx. 40 km. long coastal path to Kullaberg has until now been a well kept secret. I've spent a couple of research trips on it to find out if the path is worth hiking. First in the early spring and later this summer and my conclusion is that it has a lot of potential and that the magnificent views are unique so close to Denmark.

One of the routes I am researching in Denmark is the approx. 100 - 120 km. long "North coast trail" running up the north coast of Sealand. It ends in Helsingor, the old and mythic hometown of Shakespeare's Prince Hamlet. Only about 10 km. from there, across the narrow strait of Øresund, start another route. It follows the coast out to the dramatic and wind swept, more than 100m. high coastal rocks of Kullaberg. A lot of danish hikers and Climbers know Kullaberg and have it listed as one of their favorite spots. Every year thousand of Danes head across the narrow strait of Øresund to hike and climb on the these ancient bedrock cliffs and my mission was to find out if there is a usable trail for hikers all the way out there.

When I got of the ferry in Helsingborg it was very nice weather and my expectations were high as Sweden is known for their very high standard of trails. The trail started a few hundred meters from the ferry at the towns ancient defence tower.

The larger project, that takes up all my time at the moment, is about finding ways to get more people out on the trails through the use of storytelling, art and advanced digital techniques. On this trip I was alone ( i didn't even bring my laptop and mobile modem), just a light backpack, tent for the night, camera, sketchpad and watercolors. I wanted to do some experiments on this trip to get closer to the art -techniques I hope will work on the web.

One of the questions I try to answer at the moment is how to pass on experiences about walking on the trails in ways that will encapsulate and keep the the impressions fresh. Digital photos are easy to shoot and fast to upload, watercolors are almost the exact opposite... but I wanted to work with both and compare the results as I think watercolors can somehow express landscapes, atmosphere and light in a way that seem more than impossible to approach in any other technique.

Höhentour zum Dom

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 13:25:04 +0100

Fünf Rheinländer auf dem Weg zum Dom

Was hat der Dom mit Bergsteigen zu tun, werden sich jetzt manche fragen. Sehr viel, denn mit dem Dom ist nicht der Kölner Dom, sondern der höchste ganz auf Schweizer Boden gelegene Berg gemeint. Stolze 4.545 m misst der Gipfel, technisch nicht schwer, aber dafür eine echte Herausforderung an die eigene Kondition. Der Aufstieg vom Tal bis zum Gipfel mit 3.160 Höhenmetern ist der längste Gipfelanstieg in den Westalpen! Im Spätsommer 2004 fanden sich also vier Bergsteiger aus der Sektion Rheinland-Köln zusammen, die unter der Führung von Fachübungsleiter André Hauschke den Dom besteigen wollten. Wir vier – Klaus Weber, Klaus Berthold, Mick Holzhueter, Andreas Borchert – hatten schon ausreichend Berg- und Gipfelerfahrung, aber ein Viertausender fehlte uns allen noch im Tourenbuch. Und es sollte ein besonderer Berg sein, bei dem sich die technischen Schwierigkeiten in Grenzen hielten und den wir ohne Zuhilfenahme von Seilbahnen besteigen konnten, also „by fair means“. Wenn schon ein Viertausender, dann ein Richtiger, sagten wir uns. So war das Domprojekt 2004 für uns geboren.
Am 26. August brachen wir am frühen Nachmittag bei durchwachsenen Wetter von Euskirchen auf, mit den Aussichten des Wetterberichtes, das wir eigentlich in den nächsten Tagen gutes Wetter haben sollten. Am nächsten Morgen lachte uns dann auch tatsächlich die Sonne entgegen. Wir hatten Unterkunft gemacht im Hotel Bergfreund in Herbriggen, denn hier trifft sich die komplette Bergsteigerszene. Ob Bergführer, Bergschulen oder Bergsport-Reiseveranstalter, das Hotel Bergfreund ist die erste Adresse im Mattertal (Wallis) und man ist stets unter Gleichgesinnten.
Wir hatten natürlich nicht vor direkt auf den Dom zu steigen, sondern wollten und mussten uns erst einmal akklimatisieren. Dafür sollte dann eine Zweitagestour auf den Alphubel (4.206 m) ausreichen. Wir wussten das eine Tour auf den Alphubel in dem Sinne keine Eingehtour ist, geschweige eine optimale Höhenanpassung, doch wir waren alle gut im Training und André beruhigte uns mit den Worten: Das passt schon.

Ich hatte mich auch extra 6 Wochen vorher auf dem Stepper und Fahrrad im Fitnessstudio gequält, weil ich wusste das wir ein straffes Programm mit einigen Höhenmetern vor uns hatten. Im Nachhinein war ich dann doch froh, das ich mich so gut vorbereitet hatte.
Damit wir am Anfang nicht ganz so viele Höhenmeter machen mussten ließen wir es bei strahlenden Sonnenschein locker angehen. Rudi, der Hotelbesitzer, fuhr uns mit dem VW-Bus bis zur oberen Täschalp (2.214 m), von der wir uns dann auf dem Weg zur Täschhütte (2.701 m) machten. Zum erstenmal lachten uns die richtig hohen Viertausender entgegen u.a. der Paradegipfel des Weishorn (4.505 m). Der Aufstieg zur Täschhütte war nach ca. 500 Höhenmetern recht schnell erreicht und wir hatten gerade erst mal Mittagszeit. Nachdem wir schon mal unser Nachtlager besichtigt hatten beschlossen wir noch etwas höher bis zum Gletscherrand zu gehen. So wussten wir schon mal den Weg, den wir am nächsten Morgen – oder sollte ich Nacht sagen – gehen würden. Das waren dann noch mal ca. 500 Höhenmeter und für unsere Akklimatisierung optimal, weil wir zum Schlafen wieder zur Hütte abstiegen. Auf dem Weg zum Gletscher wurde mit zunehmender Höhe auch das Panorama immer gewaltiger. Erstmals tauchte auch das Matterhorn (4.478 m) in unser Blickfeld auf. Majestätisch blickte es zu uns mit seinem markanten Hörnligrat herüber. An einem kleinen Eissee am Gletscherrand machten wir auf einer Höhe von ca. 3.300 m Pause. Man merkte jetzt schon etwas die Höhe, immerhin war wir noch 24 Stunden zuvor fast auf Meeresspiegelhöhe gewesen. Aber wir fühlten uns fit und keiner hatte ernsthafte Beschwerden. So stiegen wir wieder etwas ab um noch ein paar Sicherheitsübungen mit dem Seil für unsere morgige Gletschertour zu machen. Abschließend ging es dann gemütlich zurück zur Täschhütte.

Wer noch nie auf einer Schweizer Hütte war, der wundert sich wahrscheinlich über die sanitären Einrichtungen. Es ist mit Sicherheit nicht jedermanns Sache auf ein Plumpsklo zu gehen bzw. sich unter freien Himmel zu waschen. Aber so ist das halt auf den höhergelegenen Hütten in der Schweiz, da sollte man nicht unbedingt in der Nacht mehrmals rausmüssen. Wie wir später feststellen durften, gibt es allerdings bei den sanitären Einrichtungen auch Unterschiede. Dementsprechend abschreckend war es auf der Täschhütte. Hätte man hier drin ein Feuerzeug angemacht, dann hätte man garantiert einen Freiflug bis zum Alphubel gebucht, weil einem das Klo im wahrsten Sinne unter dem Allerwertesten weggeflogen wäre. Da hieß es dann nur: Augen zu und durch.
Am nächsten Morgen war die Nacht um 3:30 Uhr vorbei. An richtiges Schlafen ist auf so hoch gelegenen Hütten sowieso nicht zu Denken, aber es war relativ wenig los und wir hatten in unserem Lager genügend Platz gehabt. Für alle Neulinge waren das neue Erfahrungen, denn solche Aufstehuhrzeiten werden hauptsächlich in den Westalpen gepflegt. Die Aufstiege sind lang und man weiß später am Tag warum man so früh losgegangen ist. Auf uns warteten über 1.400 Höhenmeter Aufstieg und unser erster Viertausender. Bei Vollmond stiefelten wir schweigsam zum zweitenmal zum Gletscherrand. Der Mond schien so hell, das wir unsere Stirnlampen hätten ausschalten können. Es waren nicht viele Seilschaften unterwegs und so erreichten wir fast alleine die Gletscherzunge. Wir banden uns ein und zogen unsere Steigeisen an, während langsam die Sonne am Horizont aufging. Ehrfurchtsvoll wanderte unser Blick zu den gegenüberliegenden Viertausendern hinüber. Das Morgenlicht lies sie bläulich-violett erstrahlen und alleine für diesen Anblick hatte sich die Tour schon gelohnt. Auf knallharten, knirschenden Firn machten wir uns auf dem Weg zu unserem ersten Viertausender. Der Weg bis zum Alphubeljoch ist nicht technisch schwer, man sollte jedoch eine sichere Steigeisentechnik haben, denn immer wieder gilt es zu Queren und zu steigen. Mit den ersten Sonnenstrahlen erreichten wir das Joch auf einer Höhe von ca. 3.800 m. Hier hatten wir uns erst mal eine Pause verdient, denn 1.100 Höhenmeter lagen schon hinter uns. Ich fühlte mich topfit, aber es gab auch schon bei dem ein oder anderen Bergkameraden leichte Begleiterscheinungen in Form von Kopfschmerzen. Wir hatten die magische Grenze von 4.000 m aber noch nicht durchbrochen, wie würde es weitergehen ? Wichtig war jetzt auch das Trinken in der Höhe. Meine Kollegen hatten alle Camelbags in ihrem Rucksack, ich komme damit nicht klar und hatte meine normalen Sigg-Flaschen und eine Thermosflasche dabei. In den Siggs hatte sich schon Eis gebildet, aber der Tee in der Thermosflasche war noch schön heiß. Meine guten Powerbar-Riegel konnte ich aber nur noch als Schlagstock benutzen so hart waren sie gefroren. Mit zunehmender Höhe wurde es natürlich auch immer kälter und deshalb hielten wir uns auch nicht zulange auf. Wir genossen noch mal den Blick auf das Strahlhorn und das Allalinhorn und machten uns wieder auf den Weg. Wir wollten den Normalweg nehmen und nicht über die Nase – ein Grataufstieg – aufsteigen.

Es war unser erster Viertausender und da sollte man es nicht gleich übertreiben. Wir querten unter dem Alphubel, zur rechten Seite das Tal von Saas Fee, bis wir zum steilen Gipfelaufschwung kamen. Hier ereichten wir auch die magische 4 und mit ihr begannen unsere Probleme. Nachdem Mick schon auf der Hütte mit leichten Kopfschmerzen zu tun hatte, blieb ihm jetzt langsam die Luft weg. Und das gerade im steilsten Abschnitt der Tour. So kamen wir auf den letzten 150 Höhenmeter nur recht langsam voran. Mick ging 10 Schritte und musste dann eine Pause machen, in diesem Intervall und mit viel gutem Zureden erreichten wir glücklich den Gipfel. Anscheinend erging es anderen Bergsteigern noch schlechter, denn am Wegesrand sah man häufiger Reste vom Hüttenfrühstück liegen. Am Gipfel wurde das obligatorische Gipfelfoto gemacht, aber aufgrund des Windes stiegen wir wieder schnell unter den windgeschützten Grad ab. Der Blick von Gipfel reichte bis zur Mont-Blanc-Gruppe, auf der anderen Seite grüßten uns Eiger, Mönch und Jungfrau entgegen, es war einfach fantastisch. Direkt gegenüber stand unser großes Ziel, der Dom nebst seinem Nachbar, dem Täschhorn. Als wir abstiegen kamen uns einige Seilschaften entgegen bei den wir nur die Köpfe schüttelten. Ihre Anseilmethoden waren einfach haarsträubend und nicht in Worte zu fassen. Ein älterer Bergsteiger sicherte sich zusätzlich mit einer Reepschnur vom Handgelenk zum Seil, was immer das auch bringen sollte. Im Falle eine Spaltensturzes hätte er in Zukunft einhändig essen dürfen, falls er es überlebt hätte.
Der Abstieg zur Täschhütte entwickelte sich dann zum langen Schneehatscher, bzw. im unteren Teil zum Tanz auf aperen Eis. Die starke Sonneneinstrahlung trug im oberen Teil dazu bei, das der Schnee aufweichte und auf der Gletscherzunge teilweise ganz verschwunden war. Nach einer Erholungspause auf der Täschhütte ging es dann noch die restlichen 500 Höhenmeter zur Täschalp zurück wo schon unser Bergtaxi von unserem Hotel Bergfreund wartete um uns abzuholen. 1.500 Höhenmeter Aufstieg und 2.000 Höhenmeter Abstieg lagen an diesem Tag hinter uns, wir hatten unseren ersten Viertausender geschafft und waren zufrieden, obwohl wir wussten das ein noch schwererer Brocken auf uns wartete. Immerhin sollte der Alphubel nur unsere Eingehtour für den Dom gewesen sein...

Am nächsten Morgen machten wir uns vom Hotel Bergfreund auf den Weg zur Domhütte. Rudi fuhr uns erst mal in das Örtchen Randa von wo der Aufstieg beginnt. Alleine der Weg zur Domhütte hat schon einen hochalpinen Charakter und steht so mancher Gipfelbesteigung in den Ostalpen an Schwierigkeiten nicht nach. In gut 5 - 6 Stunden müssen ca. 1.500 Höhenmeter bewältigt werden. Vom Tal an stets steil ansteigend, anfangs durch Wald bis man irgendwann an der Abzweigung
zur Europahütte herauskommt. Ab hier nehmen die Schwierigkeiten zu und man sollte spätestens jetzt die Hände aus den Taschen nehmen. Am festen Fels geht es auf einer Art Klettersteig mit Seilsicherungen und sogar einer Leiter über Stufen, Rinnen und Bändern steil hinauf zur originell in Form eines Bergkristalls gebauten Domhütte (2.940 m). Das Wetter spielte an diesem Tag nicht mit und so hangelten wir uns im Nebel und Graupel den Steig empor. Als Entschädigung begrüßte uns ein mächtiger Steinbock, der plötzlich über uns auftauchte und unsere Kraxeleinlagen beobachtete. An der Domhütte angekommen verschlechterte sich das Wetter mehr und mehr.
Inzwischen gab es zum Nebel noch stürmischen Schneeregen und wir waren in Sorge für den kommenden Tag. Die Wettervorhersage sagte uns gutes Wetter voraus, daran war aber zum jetzigen Zeitpunkt nicht zu denken. Es hatten sich nur ein paar Bergsteiger auf der Hütte eingefunden und so hatten wir wieder ausreichend Platz im Lager. Beim Abendessen blickten wir überrascht nach draußen als ein neuseeländisches Paar es sich vor der Hütte gemütlich machte und biwakierte. Im eiskalten, stürmischen Schneeregen kochten sie ihr Süppchen und ließen sich nichts anhaben. Respekt.
Wer schon mal auf der Domhütte war, der kennt auch den Hüttenwirt Franz Brantschen. Ein Unikum, alleine schon durch sein äußeres Erscheinungsbild auf den ersten Blick furchteinflössend. Genauso war auch sein Weckruf morgens um 3:00 Uhr, der uns nach einer sowieso schlecht geschlafenen Nacht aus dem Lager riss. Am Dom geht man früh los und das muss man auch. Es stehen noch mal ca. 1600 Höhenmeter bevor und der Normalweg hinauf ist lang, sehr lang. Wir hatten am Vorabend vom Hüttenwirt schon ein paar ausreichende Warnungen mit auf dem Weg bekommen. Tags zuvor wurde ein Bergsteiger von herabstürzenden Steinen am Aufstieg zum Festijoch durch vorsteigende Seilschaften schwer verletzt und musste ausgeflogen werden. Eine Woche vorher harrten zwei Bergsteiger stundenlang in einer Gletscherspalte aus, bis zufällig ein Bergführer sie fand und befreite. In der Nacht musste ich selber erleben, wie sich ich auf meinen nächtlichen Gang zur Toilette um 22:00 Uhr zwei Stirnlampen von der Seitenmoräne der Hütte näherten. Die Sommersaison am Dom ist nur kurz, er gilt als WS (wenig schwierig), aber die Höhe, die Länge der Tour und die Wetterverhältnisse (er ist bekannt als kalter Berg mit Schneestürmen) machen seine Schwierigkeiten aus.
Am Morgen erfuhr ich dann, das Klaus nicht mitgehen würde, er wollte auf der Hütte bleiben.
Als wir uns nach einem kargen Frühstück in kalter Hütte nur noch zu Viert auf dem Weg machten waren die Regenwolken wie weggewischt. Es hatte über Nacht gefroren und der Himmel war sternenklar. Der Vollmond leuchtete den beschwerlichen Weg über die Moräne zum Gletschereinstieg.
Plötzlich teilte uns Mick mit, das er sich nicht fit fühlte und auch nicht weitergehen würde. Er hatte schon am Alphubel Schwierigkeiten mit der Höhe gehabt und heute wollten wir noch eine Etage höher. Nur noch zu Dritt erreichten wir den Gletscher, zogen unsere Steigeisen an und seilten uns an. Rund um uns herum wurden die Berge vom Vollmond angeleuchtet: Matterhorn, Zinalrothorn, Weisshorn, Bishorn usw.

Mäßig ansteigend ging es auf dem Festigletscher bis zu einem felsigen Aufschwung unter dem Festijoch. Hier mussten wir erst mal im brüchigen Fels klettern bis wir den Grat zwischen Festigletscher und Hohberggletscher erreichten. Weiter ging es luftig über ein ansteigendes Bändchen (II) zu einem Absatz und hinab ins Festijoch. In diesem Kletterabschnitt bestand absolute Steinschlaggefahr, wurde doch hier ein paar Tage zuvor der verunglückte Bergsteiger von Steinen vorsteigender Seilschaften getroffen. Wir waren froh, als wir diesen Felsaufschwung sicher geschafft hatten und das Festijoch (3.723 m) erreichten. Hier muss man sich entscheiden, ob man den kürzeren Weg über den Festigrat (II) nimmt oder den langen, beschwerlichen Gletscheraufstieg. Wir entschieden uns für die Tour über den Hohberggletscher und marschierten los. Es waren nur zwei Seilschaften vor uns unterwegs, eine konnten wir in weiter Ferne auf dem Gletscher sehen, die andere ging über den Festigrat. Nach einiger Zeit ging es unter mächtigen Seracs vorbei, und wir beeilten uns aus ihrer Reichweite zu kommen. Mit zunehmender Höhe nahm der Wind zu. Die Sonne schien, aber der Wind stürmte auf und blies uns den Neuschnee entgegen. Unter dem Lenzjoch ging es in südlicher Richtung weiter dem Gipfelaufbau entgegen. Inzwischen hatte sich der Wind zu einem Sturm ausgedehnt. Ich setzte im Neuschnee eine Spur, die bei Andreas als Seildritten schon wieder verweht war. So stapften wir steil über die Gletscherhänge nach oben. Vor uns sahen wir die zwei anderen Seilschaften und bemerkten plötzlich, wie eine Seilschaft im Sattel zwischen Vor- und Hauptgipfel umdrehte. 200 Meter über uns hatte sich ein Höhensturm entwickelt. Eine mächtige Windfahne zog über den Gipfel. In einem Steilaufschwung trafen wir dann auf die zurückkehrende Seilschaft. An aufrechtes Stehen war nicht mehr zu denken, vorgebeugt tauschten wir uns kurz aus und sie teilten uns mit, das es oben am Vorgipfel einfach zu stürmisch sei um weiterzugehen. Wir wollten aber so einfach nicht aufgeben und setzten unseren Aufstieg fort.
Am Vorgipfel machten wir wieder eine kurze Pause. Hier wehte der Sturm am heftigsten und wir hockten uns einfach erst mal hin um zu beratschlagen. Man konnte kaum das eigene Wort verstehen und wir einigten uns darauf einen Versuch zu wagen. Der Hauptgipfel ist ein steiler Aufschwung mit ca. 45 ° Grad Neigung, bei optimalen Bedingungen also nichts Dramatisches. Heute aber forderte er unsere volle Aufmerksamkeit und Andreas schauerte es schon vor dem Abstieg. Sturmdurchpeitscht erreichten wir dann doch wenig später den Gipfel. Wir waren überglücklich es doch geschafft zu haben und standen jetzt endlich auf dem höchsten Schweizer Berg. Um uns herum schauten wir auf die umliegenden Gipfel von Täschhorn, Alphubel, Allalinhorn, Strahlhorn sowie im Norden die Nachbarn der Lenzspitze, Nadelhorn und Hohberghorn. Nachdem wir unser Gipfelfoto geschossen hatten machten wir uns schleunigst auf den Rückweg. Er sollte noch sehr lang und beschwerlich werden, ein wahrer Schinder durch den aufgeweichten Schnee. Konditionell völlig ausgelaugt erreichten wir Stunden später den Gletscherrand, wo uns schon Klaus und Mick erwarteten. Erschöpft aber rundum glücklich erreichten wir die Hütte. Wir blieben noch eine Nacht auf der Hütte und stiegen am nächsten Morgen bei leichten Nieselregen wieder ab. Das Wetter war uns wirklich hold gewesen und hatte uns trotz Sturm den einen Tag für die Dombesteigung geschenkt. Im Hotel Bergfreund angekommen erzählte uns ein Bergführer, der uns von der Lenzspitze gesehen und beobachtete, das es bei ihm nicht so stürmisch war, aber bei uns muss ja ganz schön was losgewesen sein, bei der Windfahne die um den Dom brauste. Wir nickten nur und die Gipfelstürmer waren noch ein bisschen stolzer als zuvor.

Haute Route

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 13:14:36 +0100

Die kleine und dann doch große Haute Route
Von Saas Fee nach Chamonix

Die Haute Route – eine gewaltige Skitour und ein unvergessliches Erlebnis. Der „Hohe Weg“ ist für die Skitourengänger die Königin aller Skitouren.

Das „Unternehmen Haute Route“ war wohl das ehrgeizigste Projekt der Skitourengruppe in diesem Jahr. Unser Führer André Hauschke, Jörg Friedel, Christian Waniek und ich wollten in Saas Fee losgehen und so weit kommen, wie es Wetter, Lawinenlage und Kondition zuließen. Dafür hatten wir uns 7 Tage zzgl. An- und Abreise Zeit genommen. Schon bei der Vorbesprechung wurde klar, dass das Ziel eindeutig die komplette klassische Haute Route in der wenig begangenen Ost-West-Richtung sein wird und dass mit durchschnittlich 2.000 Hm Aufstieg pro Tag und einer Nacht in einer Selbstversorgerhütte und einer weiteren in einer Biwakschachtel doch einiges auf uns zukommen würde. Ach ja, die zwei Viertausender Strahlhorn (4.195 m) und Grand Combin (4.314 m) sollten auch noch „mitgenommen“ werden. Blieb nur zu hoffen, dass die Bedingungen und das Wetter die Verwirklichung unserer Planungen ermöglichten. Wir waren erleichtert, als am 22. eine Schönwetterperiode vorhergesagt wurde und sich die Lawinensituation wieder entspannt hatte.

Wir fuhren am 24.4. um 3:00 Uhr bei André los zum Hotel Bergfreund nach Herbriggen im Mattertal. Wir lagerten alles für die nächsten Tage nicht benötigte Material ein und ließen uns nach kurzer Brotzeit von Rudi per Bus nach Saas Fee bringen, um mit Liftunterstützung bis zum Felskinn den kurzen Weg zur Britanniahütte (3.030 m) anzutreten. Dort wurden noch einmal das Gehen am Seil und die Spaltenbergungsverfahren eingeübt. Durch Andrés Verhandlungsgeschick konnten wir unsere Akklimatisationsnacht und, wie sich später herausstellen sollte, einzige Nacht auf einer bewirtschafteten Hütte, im Bergführerzimmer relativ komfortabel verbringen. Die Hütte war ausgebucht. Nach einem wunderschönen Bergabend und genauso schönem Morgen ging es um 5:40 Uhr, auf den ersten Metern noch mit Stirnlampe, zum recht ebenen Aufstieg zum Adlerpass (3.789 m). Diesen hatten wir gegen 9:15 Uhr erreicht. Von Einsamkeit war noch keine Spur. Die Karawanen, teilweise aus über zwanzig Skitouristen bestehend, rollten langsam den Gletscher hinauf. Der Blick zum Strahlhorn sah allerdings nicht so einladend aus, da der Wind aus Südost mächtig über die Grate pfiff und riesige Schneefahnen aufwirbelte. Die wunderschöne Aussicht am Adlerpass konnte nicht genossen werden. Wir legten wetterfeste Kleidung im ausgewachsenen Sturm an und gingen weiter Richtung Strahlhorn, mehr oder weniger mühselig. Am Gipfel hatte der Wind nachgelassen, so dass eine wohlverdiente Pause am Skidepot wenige Meter unterhalb des Gipfels mit überwältigender Aussicht, besonders auf die Monte Rosa Gruppe mit seiner ca. 2.500 m hohen Ostwand, gemacht werden konnte.

Die lange Abfahrt führte uns zurück zum Adlerpass und über den im oberen Teil steilen Adlergletscher, der zuerst noch Bruchharsch aufwies. Der Spuk war aber schnell vorbei und es ging auf gutem Firn weiter zum Findelngletscher, an dessen Ende wir uns bei einer ausgiebigen Pause an einem kleinen Stausee von der Sonne verwöhnen ließen. Sulzschneehänge führten uns nach Gant im Zermatter Skigebiet. Im Fußmarsch erreichten wir über Sunegga zum Schluss mit der U-Bahn Zermatt, wo Rudi schon auf uns wartete.

Die Feinplanung für die Folgetage erwies sich schwierig, denn das Ziel für den übernächsten Tag wäre die Charionhütte gewesen. Sie war an diesem Tag ausgebucht. So sollte es am 26.04. von Zermatt über den Col de Valpelline (3.562 m) und den Col de la Brulé (3.213 m) zur Selbstversorgerhütte Refuge de Bouquetin (ca. 2.900 m) gehen. Am 27.4. war dann eine Gewaltetappe über Col d’Eveque (3.392 m), Otemmagletscher, Sonadongletscher zum Col de Sonadon (3.504 m) und noch weiter zur Biwakschachtel Bivacco Musso (3.664 m) am Plateau de Couloir direkt unter der Grand Combin Südwand geplant. Diese kompromisslose Entscheidung sollte später den Erfolg der Tour gewährleisten, stellte sie doch allerhöchste Anforderungen und widersprach dem Rat der lokalen Bergführer. Als Absicherungsmaßnahme wurde für den 27.4. die Vignettehütte reserviert.

Nach einer geruhsamen Nacht und reichlichem Frühstück ließen wir uns von Rudi nach Zermatt bringen. Wir nutzten die erste Gondel Richtung Schwarzsee und querten in nordwestlicher Richtung oberhalb der Staffelalpe in das Mattertal bis auf 2.300m. Bei herrlichstem Wetter und grandioser Aussicht auf die Matterhorn-Nordwand, Dent d’Herent, Dent Blanche und Obergabelhorn stiegen wir in angenehmem Tempo in zunächst sehr flachem Gelände, ohne deutlich Höhe zu machen, Richtung Schönbielhütte und später in einem weiten Bogen nach Westen ausholend zum Col de Valpeline, welchen wir schweißdurchnässt in der Mittagswärme erreichten. Es folgte eine angenehme und kühlende Abfahrt nach Westen, wobei wir uns von der Matterhornkathedrale verabschiedeten. Der Aufstieg zum Col de la Brulé verlangte nochmals einige Reserven und die Abfahrt allerhöchste Konzentration. Das gut 40 Grad steile Gelände war arg zerfahren und bereits sulzig geworden. Also noch mal Kräfte sammeln und mit Sicherheitsabständen in den Steilhang, der dann aber auch schnell überwunden war. Nach weiterer ebener Abfahrt waren wir nach einem kurzen aber brütend warmem Gegenanstieg am urgemütlichen Refuge de Bouquetin angekommen. Der sehr zuvorkommende Wirt hatte schon Tee für uns gekocht und eine französische Gruppe hatte die Hütte bereits gut geheizt und fleißig Schnee geschmolzen. Die Gästehütte mit achteckigem Grundriss bot für etwa 16 Personen Platz. In der Mitte befand sich ein uriger Ofen mit Kochgelegenheit, um den die Liegefläche und zwei kleine Tische angeordnet waren. Nachdem genügend Schnee aufgekocht und ausreichend Flüssigkeit nachgetankt war, gab es Hühnerbrühe aus der Tüte und sogar ein Glas Rotwein vom Hüttenwirt. Dies verhalf uns wieder zu Kräften für den kommenden Großkampftag. Leider hielten es die französischen Bergkameraden mit der Frischluft nicht so genau. Wir wollten doch eher bei geöffnetem Fenster, nicht im kompletten Mief der Unterwäsche, Socken und Innenschuhe schlafen. Unsere Nachbarn sahen dies etwas anders … na ja, die „Gallier“ waren halt zuerst da und der Klügere gibt ja bekanntlich nach und so ging es zunächst bei Temperaturen einer finnischen Sauna nur in Unterhose und T-Shirt in den Hüttenschlafsack. Neben der anfänglichen Hitze sorgte auch ein gelegentliches Poltern von Eislawinen dafür, dass man nicht so schnell einschlafen konnte.

Auch der Morgen des 27.4. begrüßte uns mit Traumwetter. Noch im Schein von Sternen und Stirnlampe ging es auf eine lange und zügige Hangquerung in genügendem Sicherheitsabstand zu den Wänden, die am Abend keine Ruhe gegeben hatten. Der Aufstieg zum Col d’Eveque begann dann auf etwa 2.750 m. In gut geneigtem Gelände erreichten wir den Pass auf 3.392 m zügig und ohne Mühen. Dort begegnete uns reichlich Gegenverkehr. In unsere Richtung ging heute erneut niemand. Vom Col d’Eveque ging es über eine lohnende, teils steile Abkürzung via Col Collon zum Otemmagletscher, was einige Abfahrtskilometer und Zeit einsparte. Dieser lange und ebene Gletscher war noch hart gefroren, so dass wir ohne Mühe in endlos langen Carvingschwüngen ins Tal hinunterschossen und dabei reichlich Spaß hatten. Am Gletscherabfluss, nach knapp 10 km auf absolut harter Unterlage, brach André beim Überqueren eines mit blankem Eis zugefrorenem Gletscherbaches plötzlich bis zur Hüfte in eiskaltes Wasser ein und verlor dabei beide Skier, die er aber Gott sei Dank schnell wiedergefunden hatte. Aus der misslichen Lage hatte er sich bald befreit. Nicht auszumalen, was passiert wäre, wenn das Wasser tiefer oder die Strömung stärker gewesen wäre! Nach kurzer Lagebeurteilung wurde entschieden, erst einmal weiterzugehen, ohne die Charionhütte aufzusuchen und eine Mittagspause in der Sonne einzulegen. Hier zeigte sich das Leistungspotential von André, der nach einigem Auf und Ab im Aufstieg Richtung Sonadongletscher richtig Gas gab, um so eine längere Trockenpause auf einem aufgewärmten Stein vor einer weiteren kurzen Abfahrt zu nutzen. Es begegnete uns wiederum sehr viel Gegenverkehr, der von der Valsoreyhütte zur Charionhütte unterwegs war. Wir hatten bereits 1.300 Hm hinter uns und weitere ca. 1.300 Hm und ein langer „Hatscher“ sollten noch folgen!

Nach letzter Brotzeit ging es auf den elendig langen und in der Mittagshitze scheinbar glühenden Sonadongletscher. Der Wind ließ auch (noch) überhaupt nichts von sich merken. Im oberen Teil musste ich die allerletzten Reserven mobilisieren und kam nur unter allergrößter Mühe am Col de Sonadon (3.504 m) mit reichlich Verspätung an. Leider war aber die Biwakschachtel noch nicht erreicht. Es musste nochmals ein Stück abgefahren und durch einen Steilhang zum Plateau de Couloir und etwas weiter zum Mussobiwak aufgestiegen werden. Die kleine Biwakschachtel bietet auf engstem Raum bis zu 9 Personen Platz und liegt in genialer Lage auf 3.664 m auf einem steilen Felsvorsprung. Man hatte atemberaubende Tiefblicke in Richtung Valsoreyhütte und unseren weiteren Tourenverlauf. Weniger einladend sah die Grand Combin Südwand aus, da sich zunehmend starker Wind und schlechtere Sicht bemerkbar machten. Dies bestätigte uns auch ein Ehepaar, das vom Grand Combin erst gegen 19:30 Uhr ziemlich durchgefröstelt zurückgekehrt war. Aufgrund Platzmangels in unserer „Blechdose“ zogen die beiden es vor, trotz aufziehendem Sturm in ihrem Zelt zu übernachten. Das Kochen von Tee und Verpflegung brauchte auf dem Gaskocher auch so seine Zeit. Nach ziemlich kalter Nacht in Daunenjacken und „Pferdedecken“ folgte der erste bange Blick in Richtung Zelt der beiden Wiener, ob selbiges noch nicht samt Inhalt die Klippen heruntergeweht war… es war Gott sei Dank noch da und die beiden Insassen hatten in ihren Schlafsäcken sicher auch wärmer genächtigt als wir.

Der heutige geplante Gipfel hüllte sich in dichte Wolken und auch der Wind legte nochmals an Intensität zu, so dass vorerst nicht an eine Besteigung via Südwand gedacht werden konnte. Also wurde gefrühstückt, immer weiter Tee gekocht, da wir vom Vortag noch ziemlich dehydriert waren und abgewartet. Gegen 10 Uhr entschieden wir uns, nach Bourg St. Pierre abzufahren. Den im oberen Teil sehr steilen und vereisten Hang kamen wir ohne Probleme hinunter und passierten die Valsoreyhütte (3.030 m) etwas südlich und kamen bald in tiefen Sulz und Faulschnee. Aber damit noch nicht genug, musste auch noch eine kleine Schlucht durch einen Marsch quer durch einen Bach begangen werden. Glücklicherweise blieben hier alle trocken. Bourg St. Pierre (1.680 m) war dann nach kurzem Fußmarsch schnell erreicht und unser Lunch hat bei den Entbehrungen der letzten Tage gleich doppelt so gut geschmeckt. Mit dem Bus und weiter mit dem Taxi ging es nach Champex (1.477 m), wo wir eine gemütliche Unterkunft gefunden hatten. Am Abend ließen wir den Ruhetag bei Raclette gediegen ausklingen.

Am 29.4. sind wir über den Arpette Gletscher und das bis knapp 60 Grad steile Fenêtre de la Chamoix (ca. 3.000 m) aufgestiegen und wollten eigentlich nur bis zur Trienthütte (3.170 m). Als wir über Handy den Wetterbericht abriefen, fiel der einstimmige Entschluss nicht schwer, wieder einmal voll anzugreifen, Gas zu geben und bis Argentière durchzustarten, denn das Wetter sollte mit vorausgesagtem Schneesturm für einige Tage richtig schlecht werden. Wir wollten nicht auf einer Hütte eingeschneit verharren müssen. So ging es bei erneut aufziehendem Sturm über einen flachen, aber erstaunlich spaltenreichen Gletscher zum Fenêtre de Saleina und nach kurzer aber steiler Abfahrt weiter zum Col de Chardonnet (3.321 m). Der letzte Anstieg verlangte noch einmal vollste Konzentration. Durch den letzten warmen Sommer hat sich der Hang derart verändert, dass nur noch eine bis ca. 60 Grad steile mit sehr marodem Fixseil gesicherte Eisrinne übrig geblieben ist. Also kamen nochmals Eispickel, Steigeisen und Seil zum Einsatz. Die lange Abfahrt, jetzt im schweren Sturm, nach Argentiere war, wie gewohnt, oben eisig und unten sulzig. Erschöpft aber glücklich kamen wir gegen 18:00 Uhr nach knapp 13-stündiger Tour in Argentiere an.

Zurück in Herbriggen bekamen wir rein zufällig ein Gespräch zwischen vier Schweizer Bergführern mit, die alle die Haute Route abbrechen mussten. Sie waren sich einig, dass wegen des Wetters die große Haute Route nicht möglich wäre. Umso erstaunter waren sie, als unsere Wirtin meinte, dass das Quatsch sei, wenn die vier Rheinländer das schon schaffen würden.

Walking in the rain

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 01:00:41 +0100

It has been raining a lot lately, not only here in Copenhagen, but also out there on my tracks. The last few weeks have been packed with hiking, and my ECCO boots have made about 200 km under very different conditions! First a week in German Westerwald from Freusburg near Siegen to Nassau an der Lahn - and now I really understand why this particular landscape must carry the name "wald" ("forest" in English), because it feels like an endless walk through darkness, especially when the weather is wet, wet, wet and nobody else than stupid hikers are out in the wilderness. But it is a part of my long and adventurous hike through Europe, with Rome as a serious goal. After some planning, I've found out that it would be very suitable to get to Rome in 2013 as a celebration of my 50 years of exsistence. So, folks, if you by any chance should be around Rome the 12th of May 2013, meet me in St. Peter's Square, I'll be there around 12.00!

My goal for the week was Nassau by the river of Lahn, and next time, probably in early Spring next year, I will set out from there, follow the river for a while and then cross through the Taunus mountains and reach Frankfurt am Main, one of the great cities of Germany. And now it is really Southern Germany, so Italy is getting closer...

Last weekend I took a group of friends for a new part of the Danish Monastic Route, the fascinating walking experience that will go through all of Denmark connecting so many places of worship, nature, history and culture. We started out with a whole day of forests and - of course - rain. But the next day it was all summer, sun and sunday and we enjoyed every kilometer of it! So the rain is at least good for one reason: you appreciate a day full of sun as a gift from heaven, knowing all about how it could have been!

Now we go into really autumn, put the clock an hour back and wait for new sunny days - keep warm out there, on the tracks and in your hearts!

Dent d'Hérens

Sun, 12 Oct 2008 20:12:28 +0100

After Monte Rosa and Gressoney, we spent the night in the town of Aosta. It is a rather large industrial type of town and even though there is quite nice old town centre at the end of a busy walking street, we couldn't wait to have a change to continue our trip to more tranquil surroundings.

The next morning it was raining and the clouds were hanging low as we put our sporty Lancia Ypsilon to the test by driving upwards the next valley towards the starting point of the hike to Dent d'Heréns.

Heréns is somewhat remote mountain on the border between Italy and Switzerland. The summit reaches 4171m from where one can have really spectacular view to majestic sphinx of the Matterhorn to the east. It also is less climbed than the other 4thousenders in the region and therefore there is possibility to enjoy genuine feeling of solitude in a stupendous landscape of ice, snow and steep rock.

The turquoise lake with Dent d'Hérens on the back. (photo courtesy of Samu)

The road from the Aosta follows the valley of Valpelline through little sleepy villages higher towards the huge dam by the lake called Lac de Place Moulin. At the times it was raining really hard and we couldn't help wondering why almost all the farms by the road had the sprinklers on their fields spraying water on the full blast to already soppy grass . Also as we were getting higher on that ever tightening switch-back road, the visibility was getting bad to worse. Getting closer to the altitude of 2000hm the clouds and the fog reduced the visibility to nil and I gotta say that not sitting behind the wheel (Samu is most cautious driver by the way) I was more afraid in those hair pin turns than ever climbing in the mountains.

After about an hour of driving we reached the dam, even though we couldn't see anything because of the dense fog. There is a very nice alpine style hotel underneath the dam where we booked a room for one night. The next day we would start our hut climb to Rifugio Aosta . The route first follows the perfect turquoise lake for about six kilometres to the north end and to a place called Prarayer. From the other hotel at Prarayer the path starts to climb up by the river bank first quite steeply and then little more gently in a beautiful high alpine pasture. On the both sides of the river there are high mountains rising steeply with white and blue glaciers giving great contrast to a green and flowery meadows by the fast flowing ice water stream at the bottom.

We also encountered the local fauna of marmots, herds of sheep and cows grazing along the river sides and upper parts of giant moraine debris which the receding glacier has left behind. I still don't understand how the farmers have managed to get their herd up to those high meadows and how they will be able to bring them back down again in the fall. The hike is rather long and strenuous to the hut when you cover some 12 km of distance and 800hm of altitude. The Aosta hut at the hight of 2781m is right next to a huge sérac area of vast high glacier of Tsa de Tsan. Last part of the hike to the hut is pretty impressive, when you climb up along a polished rock admiring these roaring waterfalls coming from the inside of the Ice masses. Good thing is that there is a via ferrata of fixed ropes, chains and steel steps to help a weary climber to reach his or her goal of the day.

I have to say that this hut climb is probably the most breathtaking I've ever done in the mountains. First you follow that turquoise lake and scramble in a pictoresc 'Sound of the Music' type of landscape in a coarse pine tree forest. Then as getting higher everything slowly turns more austere and secluded. All the time when you're climbing upwards, you can see the high glaciers and the summit of Dent de Heréns. Everything around you is just too grand to be captured by the camera and the true feel for the place can only be experienced personally on the spot. Even standing at the front of the hut watching down at the valley to south makes you feel that you're in this remote little fortress which is trying to stand against the forces of nature. But to stand there after good four hour hike enjoying a cold beer admiring incredible panorama of high peaks and hanging glaciers, ice water streams with lush alpine pastures on the sides basking in the afternoon sun is worth of all the flying, driving and walking.

We had an excellent purpose build meal and a very good rest in that cosy little hut and were more than ready at three in the morning, when the wake up alarm rang. Cup of tea and few dry crackers, back packs on and we were heading towards the steep moraine leading up to the Grand Murailles Glacier at 3000m. Two hours of climbing and we reached more flatter part of the ice. It was getting little lighter and we took a little pause to switch of the head torches and adjust the gear a bit. It was then when it hit me…. a mountain climber's curse (if you don't know what that is, you can try to google it). Well, a little delay and we continued towards the steeper part of the glacier and the first bergschund crevasse which was in between the first real climbing section.

Samu front pointing above the bergschrund.

From the altitude of 3780m we started the rock section after front pointing the crevasse and a short icy slope, and it really was a commitment requiring bit. The snow cover was thin and route finding wasn't obvious in that steep maze of polished rock and loose gravel. The face strangely took me back to the south face of Vincent Piramide. Also the wind was very strong and the temperature dropped by that to a finger freezing point. We climbed alpine style in two man rope shouting instructions through the howling wind to each other. Last ten meters was quite delicate since there was absolutely no place to make any kind of a belay. I guess that silently our mind was set by the time we reached the icy ridge leading to the final steep rock to the summit. The wind really was furious and at times it felt like it would try to blow us of the mountain. It would have taken us another two hours to the top and the down climb needed all the strength and focus we had so we made a decision to turn down from that point. One would think that it is a huge disappointment and feeling of defeat, when you don't reach the summit after such a long effort. Truthfully I have to say that even now after two months I still remember that hike as one of the most beautiful and fulfilling I have ever done in the mountains.

Tricky section with poor snow cover.

We too the last look at the panorama around us and then started to rappel down with the howl of the wind in our ears. Because of the thin layer of the snow, the loose rocks were flying down the face constantly and we had to be very careful about that as well. The inevitable happened when we were just about to reach the ice wall under the rock face. A climbing couple that were little higher from us were also making their decent and this 'ass' dislodged a rock which started a shooting gallery of stones flying down the face. With no warning shouts from above, we flattened ourselves against the face and tried to find some shelter from a couple of larger boulders. We were lucky and only got hit to the arms and legs by smaller rocks, which never the less hurt like hell. Just below us were two Swiss dudes and fortunately they were wearing helmets, as little lower down one of them told us that the rock had cracked his helmet useless. There were no comments, nor apologies by the climbing couple as they reached us on the glacier.

Back to the starting point of Lac de Place Moulin, after pretty long and weary day. Started at 03:30, covered close to 20 km of lateral distance, 1300hm up, 2000hm down and 14 hour hike, so once again the salvation came in a form of chilled can of lager at this little cafe by the dam. Then the Ypsilon took us along this curly road down to the Aosta freeway and then to the town of Courmayer for a deserved relaxation.

The route to the point of return. (Pictures courtesy of Samu)

The Grande Finale of the trip will still follow!

Acclimatization

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 11:13:15 +0100

prologue

This was our traditional summer trip to the mountains. I've been doing these trips to the mountains for good fifteen years now and the pattern has stayed pretty much the same. During the winter season, first WE and later years I, have used skies and then on summer we just put one feet in front of the other. In both cases going up is pretty much the same, but coming down is that much more efficient in the winter. Obviously we don't normally try to push that high in the winter conditions, that we do during the summer season.

There are these few really classic mountains in the Alps, which I consider to be that much more special to me in my book of dreams. They always also seem to be in every trip plan that I make. I know that for some the basic routes to their heights are just easy formalities and hardly justify a challenge. But for me as a normal hiker and a mountain lover, most of those routes are really a serious undertake and require respectful attitude and a humble mind to make a try for a summit.

I have read many books about climbs in the Himalayans and in the Andes made by the greatest climbers of our time. There are so many names by now to mention, Reinhold Messner 'der Keiser', Hermann Buehl, Ed Viesturs, Veikka Gustafsson, Anatoli Boukreev, Göran Kropp…. the list goes on and of course doesn't exclude the first major legends like Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary…. All of those amazing climbers and adventurers that give mountaineering such a great media exposure by their extraordinary endeavours and achievements, are probably best known by most of the sofa expeditioners.

For me however, even though I look so high up to these gentlemen, my heroes represent something that even I can remotely think of achieving. Not necessarily the same routes, but the same peaks where I can admire the actual lines they have sometime in the past fought for. The first real mountaineers in Europe for me were off course Mr Edward Whymper and his legendary and loyal companion and a Chamoniard guide Messieur Michel Croz. It also always amazes me to read about the incredible routes in the Alps, which the best Italian climber ever Walter Bonatti did in the 50's in a very puritan way.

For me mountaineering and possibility to be in the mountains represent some sort of a concept of a freedom. I get to switch of my cell phone and other apparatus and try to believe that I'm out of the reach and just have to rely on my judgements about the routes and the conditions. There is quite often, even in those lower altitudes of the Alps comparing with the ones in the Himalayans, an uncertainty within you, whether you should continue or not if the weather turns intimidating.

There are so many different opinions, versions, stories, books, movies, news coverage's, magazine articles about dangers, stupidities, mishaps and glory in the mountains. Over the years the concept of mountaineering has been moulded by and defined through those countless different publications by different authors from the late 19th century to this day and age. Many of them give the idea that mountaineering is always something really dangerous and you always risk your life going to the mountains. Or the reason to go to the mountains is to do some epic struggle. Having said that, I certainly understand that there of course are risks involved with high mountain activities. Making the absolutely right decision is sometimes impossible and risk management plays a crucial role.

Even though my journeys probably represent technically less demanding aspects of the mountaineering, there still is the factor of the unknown to deal with. You still have to cope with the elements that surround you. The stress caused by the anticipation of strenuous long walks and climbs, unpredictable conditions of snow bridges, crevasses and leaning seracs on the glaciers, avalanche risks, your mental and physical fitness and your team's and most of all the weather factor. The 4thousend meter peaks are for a reason considered to be a high mountain environment where curtain rules do apply.

Even though mountaineering is very popular sport, it is not simple to try to explain your ambitiousness and your utter strife for feeling of freedom to your mother or family when they are feeling anxious about your next trip. You can also show just so many photos and try to relive the feelings you had on the mountains with your non climbing friends, but it will still remain something of a mystery for them. It is impossible to describe a sensation, when after some long hours of hardship pushing to the summit, you stand on the top and give you're climbing partner a sincere hug feeling overwhelmed by your emotions.

I do this for a love of the experience and not for a reason to 'collect' summits. From my trip to Peru I learned even more, that sharing your experiences with some ones alike makes the adventure even more fulfilling. Obviously you have to have clear goals and targets when you make a push for the higher grounds, or the effort would not be substantiated.

-H-

This trip's main target was based on the '2008 Ski and Hike Trip' (The first story on my blog). We did try it in the spring of 2008, but because of too harsh conditions up in the high peaks, we didn't have a chance (story 'Great Powder'). So once again we made our plans according for a try to the summit of Mont Blanc. For the first time we started from the Italian side as we took the flights to Milan and with rental car drove to our first base village of Gressoney la Trinite.

Gressoney La Trinite

Like so many little alpine villages in the Aosta, Gressoney is located at the end of a long winding road from Aosta freeway. The village sits in between high mountains perfectly in front of Monte Rosa mountain range. It was a beautiful day when we arrived in to the lush, colourful and ambient village watching gorgeous view to the broad west face of Lyskam basking in the late afternoon sun.

Via Ferrata to Gnifetti Hut

Lyskam and other main peaks in Monte Rosa range reach the altitudes around 4200-4600hm and here we would have our perfect practice routes to find our 'mountain feet' and get acclimated. Even though we did quietly plan on trying to do the whole Lyskamm ridge, we knew that for that we would really have to be very well prepared so it wouldn't be possible to try it for the first. Thus the idea was to climb the next day to the Gnifetti Hut at 3647m from the highest cable car at Passo dei Salati 2980hm and the day after climb the Schwarzhor (Corno Nero) 4322hm.

Evening view from Gnifetti

There are two rifugios (Mantova and Gnifetti) people normally start the routes to Monte Rosa summits from this side and they are very crowded, the huts and the routes. We stayed in the higher one (there also is Margherita Hut 4556hm, the highest in the Europe, but that is not to be used unacclimated) and it actually is very comfortable and tidy comparing to some in France. We started our climb at 04:30 and there were many others sharing the 'glacier highway' that morning. A little worry was the weather forecast, but everything looked like it was going to be really nice day as the clouds stayed low in the valley.

We progressed steadily higher on a not too steep clear path in a crisp temperature and pale morning light. We passed the turning point to Vincent Pyramid and continued along this vast ice field towards Col de Lyskam 4250hm. We actually were a little bit further up than was necessary for the Schwazhorn, but I was feeling surprisingly fit and wanted to have look at the end of Grenz Glacier on the Swiss side. It is one of the five 'fingers' of the massive stream of ice flowing towards Zermatt. There is huge rounding chain of four-thousenders surrounding that high ice plateau. From the west to east long traverse of Lyskamm to Ludwigshöhe stopping at near vertical drop of 1000 meters to the Italian side of the range. Then continuing to north over Parrotspitze, Signalguppe, Zumsteinspitze and then back to the west to the highest point in Monte Rosa, Dufourspitze 4634m.

My friend Samu had already topped the closest peak of Ludwigshöhe (4342m), so he traversed towards Schwarzhorn while I climbed another 100 meters higher to my first summit of the day. There was a huge cornice leaning to southeast from the summit, so I tried to be careful not to go too close to the edge while taking some photos. I descended about 80m lower to south from the summit to meet up with my friend and then we continued short, steep climb to top of Corno Nero. Very last part of the summit is kind of an airy rock pyramid and there is a little statue of Holy Mary on the top facing west guarding the climbers.

The Summit of Swarzhorn

Swarzhorn from the summit of Ludwigshöhe

From the summit of Schwarzhorn we descended a little further south to Balmenhorn and I was still in very good form and felt like I would like do a little more climbing. Samu had left our longer rope to the Gnifetti Hut, so he had to follow the tracks back down to fetch it. We agreed that we would meet in two hours at the bottom of the glacier. I continued up to the summit of Vincent Piramide 165m higher. The summit is quite large snow and ice dome at the altitude of 4215m and is generally regarded as the most western 4-thousender of the Monte Rosa chain.

After few photos I continued the ridge southeast to descend to Punta Giordani which for some strange reason is also defined as a separate summit, even it merely is extended ridge from Vincent.

Normally all the climbers turn back from the summit and descend via the same route as coming up and follow 'the Highway' back to the Gnifetti Hut. That probably was the reason why two sporty looking Italian climbers looked at me with surprise on their faces as they commented 'tutti solo?'

I thought that the descend along the ridge wouldn't be that complicated, since I had been looking at it from below with binoculars and it looked quite reasonable. When the summit ridge ended, the steep rock ahead looked much more intimidating than I would have hoped for. I only carried a 20 meter randonnée rope, so it would not help me a great deal on many rappels.

At first I thought that I need to turn back and climb over the summit again to the normal route, but then I spotted a narrow couloir that seemed to be covered with snow. In the shadowy couloir the down climb was ok and my crampons bit to the hard snow well. But as soon as I appeared back to the sunny south side face, the snow turned rotten and at places disappeared completely. The rock underneath was also very poor quality and there was very seldom reliable place to try to get grip with the crampons.

I stopped at the place on the face where I could lean against the rock and get a hold from a crack. There still was good hundred meters of 40 degree wall covered with loose rock and wet snow beneath me as I tried to assess the situation. Very briefly 'Oh shit!' came to my mind as I thought what on earth to do next. First I was thinking of turning back and climb over the summit to the normal route to Gnifetti. But I was already half way down the face and climb back would have been too much of a work to do after already three summits and the route was as unappealing above me as it was below.

Then I told myself that focus yourself for short targets and make one careful step at a time. I noticed that there were strips of snow in the different chutes coming down from the top and I could use those to slowly climb down backwards using front points of my crampons. Each step I placed the tip of my ice axe in a crack or tried to bury it as deep as possible into the soft snow and gravel. Making gently steps in the loose mixture of thin snow and loose gravel, I progressed lower trying to find solid rock where I could rest. The only problem was not to find the foot holds, but also trying to avoid being hit by the shooting rocks and stones that were constantly flying down from the face.

It probably took almost an hour for me to climb down the face and I almost reached the glacier before I saw that there still was some 20 meter drop in front of me. This easy mountain really wanted to test me, I thought. I had my 20 meter rope, but if I wanted to have it back, I only could rappel ten meters. I looked around for another possible way down and saw that to my right there would be another option. I would need to rappel those ten meters, but then there would be a narrow passage via smooth but solid rock. The crampons actually hold very well on a rock if you place them carefully along the small cracks and grains on the rock. I made a little awkward belay and rappelled down leaving only a small sling behind me. Then I meticulously side stepped that smooth inclined rock slope down to the glacier. Without stopping I continued towards Punta Giordani and tried to get away fast out of the reach of the shooting rocks.

At the hight of 4046m there is a small rock formation which is called Punta Giordani. It to me really is not a 4-thousend meter mountain as it own, but just an end of a ridge coming down from Vincent Piramide. Never the less I took a couple of photos and prepared myself for glacier hike down from the mountain.The clouds had suddenly started rise up from the valley and for sure I did not want to find my self in a whiteout on a route I hadn't climbed up.

Another hour down and I met Samu waiting for me at the edge of the glacier. We walked down to the cable car and without any delay in the village to the nearest bar for a well earned cold Moretti.

Our trip had had a good start and first summits achieved, so spirits were high when we continued along the Aosta valley to our next destination and challenge.

epilogue

I am very passionate about mountaineering and really feel strongly about the mountains, but I think that it is not necessary to try to analyse it too much. That quite often happens in the mountaineering novels though, but the level of trekking and climbing that I do is just another way of spending your vacations. It is a great way to have a change to see new places and possibly meet new people, but at the end of the day the main thing is to feel good and content. If at some point the whole thing starts to bee a must to do or achieve, then it is time to try something else.

Tangle Ridge

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 03:08:43 +0100

Okay. I concede. We’ve entered into the shoulder season here in the rockies. This past weekend told the story of this summer’s last adventure before getting ready for real snow. Tangle Ridge (2900m) was the destination for Saturday, and after a late sprint from Edmonton down to the Columbia Icefields on Friday night we settled into our sleeping bags for a chilly night. We are a group of four: Carmen and I with our good friends Lex and Conor

The morning was cloudy and wet, with bulky clouds shrouding the surrounding peaks. We were camped again at the tenting only Icefields campground, only about 10 minutes form the Tangle Ridge trail head. I made everybody roll out of bed at 6.30 because I always enjoy morning. I don’t mind being in soggy weather down below treeline, but I wanted to make best use of the day and thought that the early afternoon sun would help burn off some of the precipitation. Our chosen scramble would be an

1100m climb, mostly off trail up a reasonable scree slope. Stunning views from the top were promised, and Carmen and I were excited to be able to get a look at Wilcox pass from its northern terminus- along with the peak that had defeated us the week before.

The scramble begins on the side of highway 93, just over the Sunwapta pass. We make our way over to Tangle falls, and strike out on a well worn path sign posted “Wilcox pass”. We are slow along the path- it is cold, and the ground is slippery with mud and exposed routes. Some 40 minutes later, we near Tangle creek again and leave the trail and turn north east to begin climbing along a dry drainage. It is unclear from this angle exactly where we are heading, but it is clear from the map that this drainage will lead us up onto the broad hump ridge that will show the way up to the summit of Tangle ridge.

We eventually clear the trees, and come out onto a broad terrace strewn with limestone boulders. The clouds are lifting slightly and shredding in sections to reveal the icefields and mountains across from us. We stop for a few photos, and conor and I try to identify some of the major peaks and glaciers while the clouds aren’t in the way. After only a few minutes, we turn our backs to the scene and begin the climb in earnest. It is another 700m up from here.

To our right is the expanse of Wilcox pass. Snow lies on Wilcox peak now, making another attempt look unlikely this year. There is much more snow now all around, and Nigel peak dominates to the south, shrouded in thicker snow and brooding.

Eventually we step out onto crunchy, cushy scree. At about 2600m, a wind sets in that will be with us all the way up to the top. Our group has spread out along the ridge, Conor slightly ahead and above me, Carmen and Lex are brightly coloured specks against the dark stone slope far below. I am in a steady metronome state now, the sort of pleasant burn a long climb brings when your steps are even and the pace is steady. My breaths come equally and unstrained, matching my footfalls and spelling out snippets of songs I’ve heard or just made up right then and there. This is a state that is known to the true walker, and it is what keeps me coming back to the hills- the clarity and simplicity of going up forever at a speed set long ago by our ancestors.

Snow greets us some 50m below the summit ridge, and icy blasts of wind are coming from three different directions. The summit is crowned with a repeater and solar panels, a let down for sure but the view are superb. I marvel again at Sunwapta and the peaks adjacent. They are sprinkled in snow and look sleepy now when only weeks ago they were rocky teeth barred at a blazing summer sky. Conor gets some water boiling for tea as I take a temperature reading: 3C, probably less with the windchill. I’m wearing all my layers as I scout further along the summit ridge. Our plan is to follow the ridge a ways southwards towards towering Nigel Peak then cut down to gain Wilcox Pass and rejoin our trail head further along its route.

When I return to the repeater tower, Lex and Carmen are there enjoying a warm cup of tea and snow has begun to swirl around us. Within a few minutes the wind has really picked up, and clouds are moving in. We decide to abandon our circuitous return route in favor of retracing our steps down the easy slop.

Once off the scree, the sun finally comes out. We decide to make the best of the good weather, and practice some belay and rope techniques on some of the boulders we passed on the way up. Its good weather, but a weaker sun makes me feel that fall is really on its way.

We make slow progress and enjoy the rest of the walk back down to Tangle creek and our trail out. Back at the car we decide we are all hungry and head back towards camp for some food and rest. We spend the rest of the day relaxed around a fire, beers in hand enjoying good friends in great surroundings. I go to bed around 8.30 and set my alarm for 6.30 again. Tomorrow will be another day, another mountain, another adventure!