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A glacial refuge... Photo by Mike Long

France: Aiguille de Bionnassay

How much can a person do in a few days anyway? Can I climb up and down 17,000 vertical feet, beginning on a steep and dusty dirt road leading to a relentless and desolate uphill grind over loose scree and rubble-strewn glacier to finally reach the ice and rock ramparts of our current obsession? Then there's the task of crossing the bergschrund and traversing the peak's exposed ridges before descending new terrain on the other side to reach the Chamonix valley. One must go well out of one's way to achieve this level of suffering in the user-friendly French Alps today, but it is possible. Our intended objective, the south ridge on the seldom-visited Aiguille de Bionnassay, a satellite peak of Mont Blanc, is one of the last routes on the French side of the mountain left undisturbed by cable car or tramway access. Occasionally, while discussing the early pioneers climbing on these great mountains during our ascent, we gained perspective on the task at hand. We thought about what they must have been up against, using archaic and cumbersome equipment, wearing inadequate clothing, lacking transportation services and huts. The first ascensionists wrote, during the climb of the Aiguille de Bionnassay in 1865, as they approached the summit in deteriorating weather and it began to snow, their axes then emitting "a quaint humming sound, something musical in tone, but nevertheless evil to hear, for it told us that we were now in the very heart of the thunderstorm." Such is the temperament of the Alps, today as always.

Having deposited a large stash of equipment at the small gite in La Frasse (4,000'), including our heavy tripods, tent, rock pro and ice tools, we exit the parking lot in the direction of Mont Blanc's west face on an ancient route once used by Romans. We're carrying less weight, but already parched, laboring under the late morning sun of an intensely dry European summer, our packs don't feel much lighter. After a couple hours the dirt road gives way to trail, and we arrive at the small village of Le Truc (5,940'), where we share lunch with a group of American trekkers circumnavigating western Europe's highest mountain via the popular Tour du Mont Blanc. With well-marked trails and accessible, fully stocked huts, the TMB has the dubious distinction as the most popular (or populated) trek on earth, besieged by as many as 10,000 hikers per day during the summer months. Exactly the kind of thing we're looking to avoid. Our newfound friends, however, look pretty content and relaxed, carrying only light daypacks containing lunch and perhaps a camera, their other equipment shuttled daily by taxi to the next hotel.

Some of our hard-won elevation is lost on the descent from Le Truc to Miage (5,115'), but our reward is a picturesque alpine village complete with traditional chalets located in a lush river valley surrounded by hanging glaciers. Many of the day hikers we've encountered throughout the morning finish their journey here, and the terrace restaurant appears at full capacity. From the moment we depart the village, traversing verdant pastures towards the steep, rockfall prone slopes leading up to the Refuge Plan Glacier (8,790'), we encounter no other climbing parties. After passing beneath an impressive waterfall and wading through the last vegetation at the head of the valley, we begin, alone in our thoughts as if in a trance. Grinding our way steadily upward, using the rest step and a variety of psychological tricks, we stop infrequently and arrive at the refuge by sunset. The small wooden structure, outfitted with solar panels and a telephone, is bound to the rock cliff by sturdy cables and protected from falling stones by safety netting. Not surprisingly we're the only party registered here for the night: Few European climbers would appreciate going to this much trouble for a secondary summit when, on the north side of Mont Blanc, there's mechanical access to the Gôuter refuge located high on the normal route to the top of Western Europe. The hut guardian, a young man in his late teens, has little to do for us this night as we cook our own dinner out on the deck while the sun goes down, but the following morning we're happy to be served coffee and croissants.

Just prior to our departure in the morning a helicopter arrives with supplies for the hut, the highly-skilled pilot hovering dangerously close to the rocks while the cargo bag is disconnected from it's tether. Within minutes the task is complete, the air still again except for the occasional sound of avalanches falling from the Dômes du Miage above. Around us the slopes are now enveloped in mist, the weather rapidly changing and the forecast promising heat-generated storms by later this afternoon. Time to make a move. As we leave the security of Refuge Plan Glacier, the sound of thunder across the valley accompanies us. We begin the traverse in the direction of the Miage Glacier, which will lead us up to Refuge Durier, 2,500' above on the Col de Miage. We're moving faster today, despite the elevation gain, thanks to normal acclimatization and the fact that we've adapted to carrying large packs after ten days in the Alps. The terrain here is steep and rugged and the first drops of rain have started to fall. The route is marked by red circles painted on rocks at convenient intervals, traversing down and over slabs to a bergschrund dividing the Miage Glacier before crossing it and climbing steeply upwards. Motivated by the possibility of being struck by lightning, I move quickly over wet boulders and scree, while Evan is somewhere below in the clouds, moving at his own pace without my sense of urgency. Within 30 minutes I'm putting on dry clothes at the Durier Hut followed ten minutes later by Evan, wet and smiling at the hut entrance as the heavy rain arrives in sheets. The refuge is warm and cozy, a small metal box perched on the col at 11,000', near the frontier of Italy. There's just enough room for the three parties occupying it, in addition to the hut guardian and his wife.