It was the last few weeks of three years together as Officer Cadets at Sheffield University OTC, and what more fitting way to top three challenging years than with one final challenge. So Friday morning, and we embark on the two day drive to Les Alps and the Zermatt valley where we will begin two weeks of training in preparation for a summit of The White Mountain: Mont Blanc – the highest mountain in the Alps at 4810m and dominating the miles and miles of mountain spreading from its flanks.
Our basecamp in Saas Grund at 1500m was higher than many of us had ever been. On day one, we were straight up to over 3000m. Like many others, I had never been this high before, nor had I set foot on a glacier. We learnt how to move across the ice solo and in rope teams, how to do crevice rescues, and for a few of us, what the symptoms of altitude felt like.
On day two, we started out to our first peak, the Ulrich Horn at over 3800m. The climb began with a walk up from the valley, through lower Alps of forest and rivers, up and up until pasture became rock and rock became Glacier. Crossing the Glacier, we arrived at the Bordierhutte where we spent the first night in an Alpine Hut; a cosier than expected and certainly an interesting experience.
A 3am start after a cosy night in the dorms. We set out in our rope teams across vast snowy slopes as dawn cracked around us, shedding the famous pink glow across the landscape. Upwards and onwards we rose as the sky lightened and by dawn we could see over miles and miles of rocky mountain. Spectacular views from the summit quelled the fatigue of a lengthy climb. Day had not long broken, and in all directions a sea of snow and rocky peaks with cloud mellowing between. It was our first Alpine summit. Following the summit, over 2km of descent across snow and scramble was to challenge many of us. But on returning to the camp that night, we were all thrilled to have made our first peak.
On day four, on to the Allianhorn: our first peak at over 4000m, but perhaps the easiest. We began the climb from 3500m; an easy snow plod upwards with once more spectacular views. The clouds were drawing in fast as we reached the summit; marked by a narrow ridge and a wooden crucifix which looked increasingly sinister against the rapidly incoming cloud. We headed down quickly, just escaping the worst of the weather.
The next day however, the weather did not treat us so well and the days mountaineering was cancelled. It was something we would have to get used to in the weeks to come. Weather will ultimately make or break every expedition in the Alps, and we would learn that knowing when to turn back, and indeed when not to venture out at all is one of the most important skills to have if one wants to return from the mountains in safety.
The following day the weather improved and my group did our first Via Ferrata (Iron Route). A terrifying experience for those who like myself suffer badly from fear of heights. The last hour, which comprised a wire bridge across a valley, followed by what our instructor named “the vertical wall of death”, was enough to push me well beyond reasonable limit, and I left the top still shaking, adamant that I would never do Via Ferrata again. My friend quoted that: “Via Ferrata was really challenging but a great climb with the cargo net at the end” whereas I recall screaming: “whoever invented this should be jailed!” But each to their own.
Day seven: to Italy for three days, with two nights in a hut and the aim of achieving three peaks. We got the lift to 3800m and roped up on the long trek to the hut. This was our first experience of the other side of Alpine weather: until now it had been all T-shirts and sunglasses, but here, the cloud was down and the wind-chill pierced through layers and layers of clothing. The decision had been made to head out for two hours and at this point decide whether to continue to the hut or to head back. We had been going for only an hour however, when the decision was made to turn back. Worse weather was forecast, and it would be pointless trekking out to the hut only to trek back in worse conditions the next day. Beaten by the elements once again, we headed back down to the valley in Zermatt, and drove back round to basecamp, where we spent much of the next day sitting in tents in the rain.
Weather for the Monday however was predicted better, so that afternoon six of us with three instructors walked to the Hohsaas hut from where we would ascent the Weissmies (4017m) the following day. An alpine start in the dark once more; we began a rocky scramble up to a ridgeline where we could see dawn beginning to break over the snowy caps around us. Onwards along the ridgeline, a long scramble led up slowly up to the summit, by which time daylight was upon us, and below us: miles and miles of mountain and valley. We headed down the steep snow slope and across fields of ice and crevices to reach the lift station on the other side by late morning. It was our last day in Saas Grund.
Tuesday. Already time to pack up camp and move on. To Chamonix Mont-Blanc from where our attempt at The White Lady would begin. The Wednesday was spent on the beautiful Grande Montetes. Most of us went on a small scrambling route, but four attempting the Petit Vert, which lent out with stunning views on the ascent and a fantastic scramble at the end. The popular route however took far longer than planned due to the international spaghetti of climbers on the narrow scramble.
We had been briefed that the first half of us would be heading to the Tete Rousse hut on the Thursday, from where our summit of Il Bianco would begin. Plans changed however, as plans do. Weather reports, hut bookings and guide availability all joined forces against us and it became clear that only ten of the sixteen of us would be able to attempt to summit, a day later than originally planned. The ten were decided and on the Friday did a final kit check and boarded the Mont-Blanc Express. The train took us up to over 2000m with spectacular views down into the valley. From here, we walked upwards, before long in pouring rain, to the Tete Rousse hut, which at only 3100m, meant an exceptionally challenging summit day to follow.
We were to start at 1am the following morning, but as we prepared for bed we received a grim weather report: winds of 70mph predicted at 4000m the following day. If winds of even close to this strength were to muster the whole expedition would be a no go. We were told to get up at 1am as planned, at which point a decision would be made as to whether to head on up the mountain, or call it all off.
An anxious night’s sleep, and 1am came quickly. A clear sky, and we headed out at once to begin the climb. The first obstacle was the famous Grand Couloir: a steep piste which channels rockfall from the ridges around onto the route, making it dangerous to cross especially later in the day when the heat thaws the ice holding the rocks higher up. Following on, a long rocky scramble led us by 4am to the Gouter Hut (3800m) where we roped up and set out onto the snowy slopes.
The change in temperature was extreme at this point. We were high now, and winds were setting in. Before us in the darkness, a trail of tiny dotted lights moving gradually upwards like some silent pilgrimage to another world. Your mind almost turns itself off in the darkness as the slow alpine trudge, one foot in front of the other, goes on and on. The views were stunning, and before long we turned our head torches off and continued by moonlight. From the ridgeline, a white desert with its rolling dunes seemed to stretch below. Crossing above the clouds we truly felt like we were heading to the top of the world. Alpine mountaineering is about speed, so stopping was minimal. We had snacks in pockets, and the fatigue that crept in at times was quelled by the thought of reaching the top.
Before we knew it, we had been going for four hours, and as the beginnings of dawn began to filter through the darkness, we reached a sheltered Col (4200m). Freezing cold by this point, we donned every piece of clothing we owned. As light was beginning to creep across the mountains, the views were spectacular, and right there before us: the White Giant itself. Some of our party were in no mind to admire the views however, and were suffering badly from altitude by this point.
Our rope team was the fourth out of five to leave the Col to continue up the mountain. We had been walking for only seconds however, when our instructor said quite calmly: ‘We’d better catch up with the other teams and tell them to turn around.’ We were confused: the sky to us looked clear; the wind calm. However he began to point out the small signs which had told him the weather was about to turn, and rapidly. There was lenticular cloud lingering over the summit of Mont Blanc, and indeed, as we climbed the next hundred metres to meet the others, clouds from all around had began to move swiftly across the sky. As we reached the Vallot cabin (4367m), the sun was bursting out to the east and with it, a new mass of cloud gathering. With the high winds forecast and the sudden change in the weather, each instructor had by this point privately made the decision to turn back.
There at the Vallot cabin, shivering and dazed, our attempt at the White Mountain came to a sudden end. With a last look at the peak ahead of us, so close by that point, the five rope teams turned. Gutted despite the tiredness, we hurried back the way we had come. Down to the Dome de Gouter, across the ridges to the Gouter Hut, all the way down the rocky scramble and across the Grand Couloir. On the descent, we could see more clouds rolling in; the right decision had been made. Safely down the mountain, we took a break at the Tete Rousse from where we had started at 1am that morning. Nine hours had passed since that hazy memory of our dark ascent; seeming worlds away. A disappointment, but nothing we could do, and perhaps a more important lesson learned as more importantly than conquering Mont Blanc, we all returned safe and well. Over the weeks, we had seen some amazing sights, summitted some great alpine peaks, and were returning no longer novices, but competent alpine mountaineers, and not doubting that one day we will return to conquer the white giant.