Love and Hate in Chamonix

After a challenging winter that left many powder dreams unfulfilled, we are off to the Western Alps, Chamonix. The mere sound of the name fires our dreams. In our minds, we can already envision ourselves skiing down these famous walls. It has to be steep, alpine, a bit scary, and of course, with lots of pow. And all of it is easily accessible by ropeways: couloirs to the left and right, you just have to grab them. At least, that’s how we pictured it. But on ski trips, there is the unwritten law that everything turns out differently than you think. After eight hours of driving and a night in our camper van we finally arrive at the cable car full of expectations. The first impressions at the top: quite high, steep, terrifying, and majestic.

The second: Not much snow, a lot of red Sahara sand. We head towards the Tour Ronde. But where a white line should run through the wall, all we see is rocks. We ski down the Mer de Glace and have to unbuckle early because the snow doesn’t reach the bottom. However, bad weather is approaching, so we have a day to study maps and guidebooks. One day turns into two, then three, then four. The clouds do not give way. We haven’t seen Mont Blanc for a long time. All maps are studied, all guiding books are read, and all cafés are visited. We find out that the Grands Montets cable car, which we wanted to use for the ascent to the Argentière hut, has burned down. To make it worse, the hut is also closed. We give up.

We need to leave; somehow it is not meant to be. We escape to the Simplon Pass, where we finally want to go ski touring. Tomorrow morning. All we need is a place to camp for the night. We enter the parking lot and can’t believe our eyes: 50 soldiers and three tanks! What is going on? We are told that target practice is taking place, and the entire area is closed for the next few days. Ski touring is out of the question. We don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Our last thread of patience has snapped and our dreams of steep powder lines are a distant memory. Two jugs of strong coffee get us back on course the next morning. Good weather is supposed to be coming after all, and although Chamonix had given us the boot we decide to go back.

The mountains are still hiding in the clouds but we will not give up again. We set out with our heavy backpacks. Because the cable car doesn’t exist anymore, we prepare for several additional hours of climbing, but we honestly don’t care. We hike on the rope in the fog across the glacier; then, the first mountains peek through the clouds. Slowly we get to see more and more of these legendary north faces: Aiguille Verte, Droites, Courtes. A breathtaking sight. Everything is covered in fresh white snow. To our surprise we find an unlocked winter room in the hut. It’s getting better by the minute. The following day, we are up early.

In the light of our headlamps, we hike to the foot of the Aiguille du Argentière; at sunrise, we climb the narrow icefall that shows us the way to the Y Couloir. The snow is waist-high. After a few hours of hard work, we reach the summit and gaze at the view. This is precisely what we came for: The most imposing mountain landscape, countless steep faces, and everything sparkling seductively in radiant white! Now comes the part we’ve been waiting for: Our ski tips point into the couloir; after dropping in gravity takes over. After a few feet, we get used to the incline, our turns become smoother and we rejoice with happiness! Just before 9 a.m., we are back at the hut. Nothing is left to do but relax, eat and choose the line for tomorrow.

Ski, eat, sleep, repeat. Perfect. Our objective for day two is the Col de Cristeaux. We traverse the glacier and admire the colors of the rising sun. We make good progress, and a bit later we make the first reluctant turns into the steep face. The snow is perfect. There’s no stopping us now; what took three hours of climbing is skied down in less than two minutes. Was this our best steep line ever? It was, for sure, worth all the trouble we had before. We are so happy and satisfied, we could go home now, but there’s still this striking face of the Courtes directly across the hut. Alarm at 3 a.m. Headlamps. It’s still early when we reach 12,000 feet on Col du Courtes. Again we get to enjoy an exposed, impressive run.

After 3,300 vertical feet, we are happy and our thighs are burning. We got everything we wanted: Three amazing days, even sweeter after the rough start. And so, in the end, everything went according to plan.