Bienvenue aux Alpes - la monte de Mont Aiguille

Welcome to the alps, in all their grandeur... or at least most of it.

Nico invited me to climb Mont Aiguille last weekend with Mathilde a group of their friends. The plan - hike up (2 hour approach) to the base of the mountain Saturday morning, climb an easy route up to the top that afternoone, sleep atop the mountain, rappel down Sunday morning, and do some more technical routes on Sunday. Sweeeeet.

I later found out that the group of friends was to total 12, several coming from Paris Friday night, and most of them "debutants" - beginners. Hence my role changed a bit. I would be leading (only four of us were "experienced" climbers and could lead climb) with two beginner climbers following. This changed the outlook of the trip a bit, but I was quite excited to take more of a leadership role, and was excited for the challenge of guiding two inexperienced climbers up a mountain I myself knew practically nothing about, and flexing my currently-in-some-respects-dormant "guide skills."

The beginning went interestingly, as I can't seem to kick the habit of backpacking like a kayaker and consistently forgte that the heavy things I put in my bag will in fact be on my back and I have to lug it up myself. No floating advantage here. For the weight of my bag I might as well have lugged a dutch oven up the mountain! Jeez! Last time I backpack with my slacklining materials and heavy foods!... I say that every time.

So after a strenuous hike, we arrived at the base of the climb. We partitioned into 4 groups, and Francois and Gaelle were to climb with me.

Eyes can tell a lot, as can spending a day on the rocks with someone. And in a more guide-like position, these sensory receptors become much more active. Francois was often a bit socially distant from the group, a real thinker. First year math student in Paris. Gaelle was very engaging, asked a lot of questions - curious and wide-eyed. These two were to be my teammates up the mountain.

I have yet to become wholly comfortable with the rusted pitons and random bars of metal from 1932 that stick out of the rocks here to serve as your fixed protection. But the French have no problems with it, so...? Nor have I become wholly accustomed to limestone and its crumbly tendancy to throw rocks at you. But it doesn't phase the French, so...?

My own psyche was approaching the "challenge zone," but having seen these things work before, I fought my way through it logically, trying my best to keep my fear at bay so 1) as to not propagate that fear in my teammates, and 2) so as to maintain control and good judgment during the climb. Whoo. Alright, here we go.

With four groups to get going, the going isn't gotten very quickly. Our group is third to leave, and Mathilde's is last. Nico and Thomas' groups are already long gone, with slightly more experienced teams and their convenient double 8.6mm ropes allowing the followers to climb at almost the same time. In a new area and with a slightly more complicated setup, I knew we would be a little slower - and for anyone who's ever climbed with me, we all know I'm no speed demon when it comes to climbing. I like to say I enjoy it so much that I get lost in the motion of climbing - a sort of slow, deliberate, meditative state. Sounds better that way (and I'd say there's some truth to it!).

So finally, we're off, chipping away at the "longuers" as the midday sun slowly moves its way across the sky, the crisp alpine breeze blowing lightly and encouraging us to keep moving. After several pitches, I look up and out to see the most glowingly beautiful blue sky, the sun reflecting off the limestone cliffs in a vibrant yellow-orange. Wow.

"Wait, is that a sunset I see? Oh, how pretty. Oh, crap! Keep moving! And by the way, does anyone have a headlamp, because I forgot mine. No? Okay good. Still moving."

Slowly the sun snuck away from us, and thinking of my poor night vision started to spook me a bit. So far so good, but were we at least almost there? Mathilde says it's just a few more pitches. Will I be able to see in this chimney we're to climb up?

And why isn't Francois climbing? Oh, he's waiting for Gaelle to climb up so the rope becomes taut again (technical note: to get three climbers up on one rope, I was at the front setting gear, Francois would belay me and then follow, unclip his rope from the gear and reclip the rest of the rope behind him into the gear for Gaelle to collect as she followed after him). Wisely done (to minimize the affect of a fall it's best to keep as much slack out of the rope between climbers or between belay/climber pairs as possible) - but wait, Gaelle isn't climbing either. Oh, she's waiting for Francois to climb and make the rope taut. Wait a minute..... Guys!!! Climb!!! Pull strong on the rope!!! Time is precious! Bad timing for brutal rope drag to slow them down...

Midway up the chimney Gaelle finds her headlamp. "Emprunter" is definitely a good word to know in French - "Hey Gaelle, can I borrow your headlamp?"

With my eyes back, at least I could feel less rushed and panicked. Now the biting wind and menacing fog were really the only adversary forces to contend with.

I grasped for an unknown hold I knew was lurking somewhere in the darkess, my legs stemming a moistened chimney below me. Finally I found it, and hauled my exhausted, obscene-weight-bearing body up and onto our last belay ledge.

A voice came from the dark canyon that stretched above me. "Hey congratulations - a real alpine experience! The cold, the wind, and the fog!"
"So that's welcome to the alps, is it Nico?"
"Yup, that's it!"

Mathilde and I had arrived at the last belay station. We set ourselves up to belay the others while Nico passed more headlamps down to the others. Finally we all reached the last stretch of canyon and scrambled up mountaineering-style, maintaining a safe distance and a taught rope.

And the sight of the summit is one I will never forget. For a climber who always proudly describes herself as more of a climber who "enjoys the climb," the journey, if you will - rather than a climber who sees a peak and decides she wants to get to the top no matter what it takes - I have never been so awestruck nor felt so accomplished upon reaching the top of a mountain as when I looked over the top of the fog from our summit, the full moon cheering us on.

At the top we found some other climbers and chatted with them into the night, drinking wine and Pastis, and eating a feast of cous-cous, cheese, and peanuts.

The morning was, again, crisp and windy. But the sun was shining strong - a beautiful day as promised. French weather forecasters rock, by the way.

After a strenuous and long descent, with some of the most ab-intensive rappels I've ever experienced (heavy pack + weight born by your harness = almost-head-first rappel... but not quite), we arrived once again at the base, and busted out the food we had stashed in a hole by the trees (life without bears is so simple!).

The Paris crew took off, and Nico and Thomas and I embarked on a more technical climb for the remainder of the day. Nice to be liberated from the heavy packs for a few hours... especially since we'd be going downhill to get back to the car. Ugh. Down hurts.

Car. Coma. Shoes off. - I love the ride home after a long, strenuous, and successful adventure.


Lessons for the weekend -
1) Sometimes I really like climbing with other girls. There's perhaps more of a mentality between girls to stick together when the goings get rough (at least in my experiences). Had I not had Mathilde there for moral support I would have been much deeper into my "freak-out zone." Additionally, our primary route-finder had flown up the mountain with his team of climbers - but Mathilde knew the route just as well, having done it several times before, thus easing my level of stress greatly.
2) When you need to keep a calm and confident composure for the sake of others, sometimes you succeed in convincing yourself of such. The mind is a powerful thing. As some of my friends used to say, climbing is 80% mental, 10% physical, 8% weather, and 2% miscellaneous. Or something like that.
3) Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...