Traverse of the Grandes Jorasses, a long-standing project

The Grandes Jorasses traverse...

A dream taking ever clearer shape in our minds, and a project long prepared with Courle! The dates had been set well in advance: we had a whole week to choose the best weather window: “we only commit to this with a stable 3-day window”. The trouble was, that window clearly wasn't going to come! What to do? The weather won't be excellent and stable over several days, and what's more, the snowfall on Sunday/Monday/Tuesday has reshuffled the cards: what are conditions like up there? How much snow covers the sections with the most climbing?

Lots of questions, lots of doubts, but tremendous attention to every detail and caution in weighing up the options. After long discussions, always calm but full of uncertainty, we plan to leave on Thursday morning from Entrèves to start the traverse towards Rochefort, get an idea of conditions on the ground, and decide whether or not to carry on towards Canzio depending on the various factors.

First day in the heart of the Jorasses

A gentle wake-up at the presbytery in Entrèves, where we had been welcomed the evening before by geography teachers on a school “snow trip”. The cable car propels us to 3400 m, from where we start our traverse towards Rochefort. First view of the glacier and first good news: the fresh snow has mostly been swept away by the wind, and there's even a track going up towards the Salle à Manger. Several rope teams are on their way too, but the wind and cold push us to move fast and we overtake them. At the foot of the Dent du Géant, the track towards Rochefort is much fainter: we pass a few rope teams coming back from the Aiguille de Rochefort. Once on this first summit (4001 m), a first committing decision has to be made: turn back and take in the Dent du Géant on the way, or carry on towards the Dôme? The signals are mostly green: weather OK (strong, cold wind, but it should warm up according to the forecast), terrain OK (there's no visible track ahead of us any more, but a party of 2 Italians + guide overtakes us at that very moment), and the human factor at its best. So we choose to carry on towards the Dôme. On this second summit (4015 m), the weather has become downright favourable, and the signals stay green. Second decision: we carry on towards Canzio. The way is still fairly long (gendarme, an abseil, traverse, another abseil, climb back up, ridge… then the 5–6 abseils leading down to Canzio). There we find the Italian party again, who plan to sleep there and attempt the Jorasses traverse the next day with an early start. For our part, we prefer to make the most of the weather, forecast to be good until the end of the day, and so gain time on what is still a long route. The weather is supposed to deteriorate at the end of the following day, and the full traverse to Boccalatte (10 h to the Walker + 5 h for the descent) seems too ambitious from Canzio given the conditions.

Third decision: we carry on to our planned bivouac spot (the col below the Pointe Marguerite). It's 4 p.m., and from this moment on it's up to us to break trail and find the best way along a route sometimes hidden under the snow. The 6 pitches of the Young take us much longer than expected (4 h in all: P2–P3 not easy to get through, followed by a lot of hesitation and backtracking in P4–P5, before we finally find the start of P6 and its famous stuck red cam). It's 8 p.m. when we're on the summit of the Pointe Young (3996 m). The weather is excellent, but night will soon catch up with us. We stay focused for the remaining difficulties before reaching the long-awaited bivouac spot: downclimbing, a first abseil, a grade V move, ledges, a second abseil, a ledge stuffed with fresh snow; and here we are at the foot of the couloir/chimney below the notch of the Pointe Marguerite. From the summit of the Pointe Young, this couloir had impressed us with its steepness and looked almost impassable. It's 10 p.m.; out come the head torches: the couloir is full of snow/ice, and we climb it much more easily than expected, in a kind of euphoria, brimming with enthusiasm. “The end is very close, one last difficulty to overcome, and the bivouac will be the promise of a saving and well-deserved rest.” Once up there, the relief is immense, and we set up our makeshift camp. The platform is very narrow (sleeping more than two there seems ambitious to me), but the accumulated snow lets us build a few welcome low walls to shelter from a wind that makes us fear a less peaceful night than planned. After a hastily dispatched meal, we snuggle into our sleeping bags with all our layers on, and fall asleep to the peaceful sight of the stars twinkling above our heads and the lights of the Val Ferret glittering 2800 m below our feet.

A rough night and a threatening storm

Unfortunately the wind picks up during the night, coming from the west and perfectly aligned with our bivouac, carrying away all our hopes of a restful night. It's 5 a.m. After a few hours of very broken sleep, the growing light lets us watch the captivating spectacle of the clouds' wild dance, tossed about by an unbridled, fickle wind. It's 6 a.m. To this swaggering wind sweeping everything in its path (clouds, body heat, and any prospect of restorative sleep) are added a few light snow showers. It's 7 a.m. On top of being cold, we're starting to get gently wet. In moments like these, you live a mixture of doubt, questioning and resignation: what can you do but wait for it to pass? It's 8 a.m. The sky is still overcast and the wind keeps up its noisy farandole. Enough resignation: the questions are many but the answer stays the same: we have to get out via the Walker (and above all the 4 summits before it). From where we are, it's still the shortest, safest and most efficient way. There's a long way to go yet, and that gives us the courage to emerge from our damp lethargy and face what lies ahead. Questions remain (how will the wind evolve? will visibility improve? did the Italians leave Canzio as planned, or will we be the only ones continuing the traverse?), but the goal stays the same and our trust in our rope team is intact: no room for complaining — we chose to embark on such an adventure! One knowing glance is enough to rekindle the fire in us, and we set off on a day we know will be intense, very intense.

It's 9 a.m., and we tackle the two pitches (a superb 4c corner/crack) leading to the summit of the Pointe Marguerite (4065 m), fingers frozen but faces beaming. From there, the heavens open up for us, and a providential lull lets us make our way along the splendid ridge (airy but on excellent compact rock!) leading to the Pointe Hélène (4045 m). The pleasure is back: the clouds disperse, the wind drops, the sun warms us, and we move on full of energy towards the Pointe Croz (4110 m). The ledges are full of snow but the ridge is mostly dry, letting us make decent progress. Once at the Pointe Whymper (4184 m), we allow ourselves a good break, sheltered from the wind, knowing that the descent will still be very long, and to let the Italian party catch up with us. In a few minutes we climb the snow slope separating us from the Pointe Walker (4208 m), and from there we fully savour the success of this first part of our traverse. It's 2 p.m., but the climb is far from over.

The Italian party soon joins us, and we let them start the descent. Unsurprisingly, it is long, very long, and demands our concentration for a few more hours. We efficiently descend the mixed spur below the Pointe Walker and cross, without looking back, the glacial plateau overhung by frightening seracs, until we reach the Rochers Whymper and their 4 abseils, which drop us in the middle of the couloir of the same name. A dodgy snow bridge to cross, and we set foot on the Rochers du Reposoir, which we leave after an endless downclimb and 4 abseils. From there, we still have to descend the tortured Planpincieux glacier, rope kept taut given all the crevasses dotting it, to the Boccalatte hut. It's now 7 p.m., and the weather window is closing just as we leave all the difficulties behind us. Thanks to the Italians for their track on the descent: it lifted a big mental load after we had broken trail all the way from Canzio. Without stopping and without getting lost, this descent from the Walker to Boccalatte still took us 4 h 30.

The walk to Entrèves is peaceful; the light rain that accompanies us at first doesn't bother us, and we talk more in 1 h 30 than during the whole day. Our fatigue is immense, but our joy greater still! A good Italian restaurant rounds off the day, before we return to our comfortable beds, still at the presbytery in Entrèves.

Relaxing in Courmayeur

After these two very intense days and this dream come true, today's programme is of a very different kind: we start with a Boccalatte macchiato for breakfast, wander around town, browse the shops and chat with the shopkeepers, before finishing with a visit to the charming “Museum of the Courmayeur Guides” (€5 entry, 1–2 h, highly recommended). We finally take the road back to Valais, after a last focaccia speziale Peuterey. Our escapade ends at the Great St Bernard, where a beaming Raphaël takes us in his arms to congratulate us on this fine adventure.

Epilogue

Thank you, my dear Courlis: none of these 10 wild and remote summits had a cross or any commemorative plaque, but each of them now keeps the memory of our passage and of our so unique friendship!