Mont Blanc: solo from Chamonix and a descent down a beautifully meringued North face

“An alpinist must know how to blend experience, wisdom and daring intelligently”

I had had the idea of climbing Mont Blanc in mind for a little while. But the last thing I wanted was to find myself in midsummer with a real crowd on the summit, huts bursting at the seams, trudging in crampons through soaking snow. No, I wanted rather to honour this summit with an ascent on skis, in a day, starting from Chamonix. But it isn't always easy to find BOTH the right weather window AND the right climbing partner.

Last night, at around 7 p.m., I'm wondering what to do on tomorrow's day off: the weather is rather poor and my usual mountain friends are far from Valais.

Tomorrow's day off… Ascension Day! The answer suggests itself: plan a major ascent, one that will mark me and leave its trace in me. Mont Blanc, for example? What's more, I've never been up it! Never mind if the weather window isn't set fair, never mind if nobody is available to join the plan. What matters is to believe in it, and above all to try. While of course staying alert to the objective risks, aware that the chances of turning back before the summit are fairly high. Because what also matters is knowing your limits and knowing when to give up — while recognising that everyone sets the commitment slider at a different level.

So, in a burst of daring but with a fair assessment of the risks (limited avalanche danger, well-bridged glaciers, the Jonction in top condition), I decide at the very last minute to attempt a “solo single push” on Mont Blanc. After a 2-hour nap, I pack my gear and hit the road to Chamonix.

I set off with skis on my pack from the tunnel car park a little before 2 a.m., heading for the summit of Mont Blanc via the Grands Mulets and the North ridge of the Dôme du Goûter. Conditions are very good, the weather is decent, and I'm in Olympic form. I'm generally efficient and only stop to check my route and take in a few calories. After about seven hours of climbing and ~3200 m of ascent, level with the Vallot shelter, I meet the three rope teams who set off at the same time as me, but from the Grands Mulets hut. Three guides, who had also made the bold bet of attempting the ascent despite a forecast the day before that was not exactly inviting.

And yet, to say that the surprise was a big one, and the bet richly rewarded, is an understatement: visibility remained excellent all morning, with truly wonderful snow conditions into the bargain. After warmly thanking my new companions for their top-quality track — which I had followed for almost 2000 m of ascent! — I humbly offer to return the favour on the Bosses ridge, the last stretch still separating us from the summit.

We finish the ascent in a very relaxed and friendly atmosphere: the guides are extremely nice and I'm delighted to have company at last after all those hours climbing alone with my thoughts. There's an amusing contrast between the rather chatty guides and their clients, out of breath and struck dumb by the effort. We take turns breaking trail, chat, get to know each other, and two hours go by in the most pleasant way imaginable. I feel a beautiful, comforting sense of fulfilment rising within me: there's not much doubt now — I'm going to reach the summit and enjoy a sublime descent, and in excellent company to boot!

We arrive on an immaculate summit, and savour for a brief moment the beauty and utter virginity of our surroundings. At last, the three rope teams and I launch ourselves down a North face superbly draped in 25–30 cm of fresh snow. Absolute bliss. It's hard to describe in a few words what it feels like to ski such a face, where seracs as big as buildings, hanging like swords of Damocles, sit alongside bergschrunds and crevasses whose dizzying depth you barely dare imagine. All this gives the place an incomparable presence and severity, without spoiling the pleasure of skiing that is, all things considered, not very technical.

When we reach the hut, I thank my companions of the day for the three fine hours we spent together, and carry on down to Chamonix, first on skis and then on foot, arriving “exhausted but delighted” with this rather bold attempt, crowned with a sweet success.