A Season in Chamonix

Chamonix is a small village nestled at the foot of the Mont Blanc massif in the heart of the French Alps. Often called ‘the birthplace of alpinism’ it is home to some of the most iconic and accessible alpine climbing in the world.

About ten months ago, my buddy Chris and I were stumbling down the tedious moraine of the Tasman Glacier and had begun swapping stories to keep our exhausted minds busy. The way he described Chamonix and the European alps over the next hour made an impression on me and I booked a flight to Paris shortly after getting home. Committed, time to save! The rest of that season in New Zealand was great. I lucked out with some really nice climbing trips and met some good folk but it was a very wet spring and seemed whenever a weather window came around I was working or had other commitments.

The aim of my overseas trip was to base my life and travel around being in the mountains, and what more fitting place to start this journey than ‘the birthplace of alpinism’…

I arrived to Paris feeling like a bag of shit. On top of 36 hours of flying and losing all my luggage in Hong Kong I also had pounding headache after trying to keep up with the enthusiastic french fella drinking next to me. Wandering around the airport feeling dusty and lost I treated myself to what was about to become my daily diet; a croissant and an espresso.

I spent the next few months sleeping in a tent and lived in a pretty minimalist lifestyle. Accommodation, good nutrition and beer were now deemed luxuries as I tried to make my small amount of savings stretch over a season. A friendly baker gifted me an old Yamaha guitar and when I wasn't climbing my time was spent playing in the shade of a pine tree or going for walks through the valley. Internet was only a short walk away but the inconvenience was enough that I would usually just use it to check the weather and talk to family. I seemed to have a lot more spare time than usual even though daily tasks like cooking dinner or washing clothes took much more time and effort. My €30 tent was frequently pitched at the Argentiere campsite, along with dozens of other climbing bums. Mostly British but I met a couple Kiwis, two Saffers, and a Scotsman whom I would spend time in the mountains with also.

I met the most important climber partner in this period. Monserrat was a sport climber from Chile and had come to Chamonix for the same reasons as me. She was also looking for a climbing partner but without much alpine experience. That would soon change and after spending some time at sport crags we eventually moved onto trad and longer alpine routes. I would spend most of my climbs with her and she became a good trad climber and a solid partner.

Friends Scottish Dave and Hilton at a campsite in Italy

Monse and I found work and a cheap apartment for our last two months. I did a few odd jobs like mowing lawns and cleaning backyards before I found a part time job as an underwater ceramic technician (aka dish prince) at a local restaurant. This proved to be a good gig as I would attempt to eat one weeks worth of free food every shift, saving me a lot of money at Super U! Maybe not the best habit for my health though..

The Climbing:

Before arriving I was looking forward to long mixed and mountaineering routes. After one month I was completely immersed in the world of rock and spent all of my time on granite instead of snow… maybe next time!

Here’s a few of my favorite routes during my time there.

Rébuffat route, South Face Aiguille du Midi - Rebuffats 1956 line is undoubtedly of classic status. Because of its proximity to the lift (tops out on the viewing deck!) and easy grade you can often count a dozen or so ant-like climbers on the climb at once. To avoid the traffic Monse and I bivvied close to the station and climbed in first light. Quite a varied route, the 's' crack on the second pitch is just as good as it looks!

Contamine route, Lachenal South Face - When viewed from the North, Pointes Lachenal just looks like an easy snow plod but as you drop down into Helbronner the south side gives away to a steep face. There is a rectangle block running the length of the face that looks as flat as a gravestone. I knew Contamine went up this and would always try to pick the line out when walking back to the lift station. Even after climbing it I probably couldn't as there were cracks everywhere and it turned into a 'choose your own adventure' until the key upper pitches. Pitch after pitch of crack climbing on golden granite.

Chere Couloir, Tacul North Face - I had read about this climb before even researching Chamonix. When my friend Marlin came and wanted to climb some ice ‘Chere’ was the first thing that came to mind. Chere Couloir is a dream line tucked into the north face of the Triangle du Tacul. It is narrow and I've heard more stories about parties getting stuck behind others and retreating due to falling ice than good recounts. That didn’t sound too appealing so we decided to simul the first pitches in the dark and then the last few pitches as the sun rose. Our tactics worked a charm and we only had a group of four courteous Germans on their guides exam below us. We were back down by nine in the morning.

Monse on the first pitch of Osez Josephine.

Nabot Leon / Ozes Josephine, Red Pillar of Blatiere - O.J starts at the summit of the Red Pillar and is accessed via one of the lower routes. Already at two hundred and fifty meters on the face the first pitch follows a perfect hand crack and I had actually spotted this splitter from a different climb weeks before. We climbed the corners and slabs of Nabot Leon first and then followed the ridge to O.J. Totally worth the trip back and a I thought it a perfect route for somebody new to granite.

Although moving to a totally foreign set of mountains on the other side of the world was quite daunting, I reckon that climbing communities around the globe share the same energy no matter the language or place. My time here was amazing and it was far from just being a climbing holiday. I would like to thank Monse, Dave, other Dave, Jimmbo and everyone else I met for a great season!

“The summer has passed” I think as I watch the morning air catch my breath, I sink deeper into my tattered down jacket. From my steel perch at the bus depot my gaze naturally moves up towards the silver faces of the Aiguilles above me. These mountains appear staunch, proud to a point of arrogance as if French Gendarmerie standing to attention, guarding the valley below. Once imposing and shrouded in mystery they now appeared familiar and welcoming. Little by little I had found my way into their world, learning them one by one, first by name and then their characters. With a smirk I raise my hand as a farewell salute. A bright green bus hisses behind me as it slowly rolls into the depot. 'Milano' reads the illuminated sign flickering above the driver. Off to Italy I go - but I'll be back.” - September 16th, 2019

StoriesRyan ColleyApril 7, 20203 Comments