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PROJECT CONNOISEUR PART II: GRAND PARADISO – CRESTA SUD
Rifugio Vittorio Emanuelle II
It is hot. Very hot, even for the end of August. After almost three hours of trudging up through the heat, we arrive at the large wooden terrace of the Rifugio Vittorio Emanuelle II. I quickly throw off my bag and take off my mountain boots. Sitting on the stone wall, Boris and I watch the hustle and bustle of the busy terrace. The terrace is packed with Italians. Always easy to recognize by their brightly colored and well-styled mountain clothing. And of course by the incessant chatter in Italian. It is striking how many Italians can converse with each other without interruption, gesticulating and very temperamental.
Approaching thunderstorm
“Mmm, there is a thunderstorm predicted with a lot of rain for tomorrow afternoon”. Bent over our mobile phones, Boris and I look at the various weather sites. “How is that possible? When we looked last night, the forecast seemed much more in our favor”. I quickly consult various weather apps, but they all predict the same thing. Thunderstorms with a lot of rain from the afternoon onwards. “What if we start really early so that we can start climbing at first light?” “Yes, but then we have to do the approach in the dark and we don’t know the approach and it is almost never done”.
Boris and I are sitting inside at one of the large wooden tables. In the kitchen, dinner is already being prepared for the 120 guests of the fully booked hut. Trays full of large bottles of ‘Birra Moretti’ are served to the guests on the terrace. The guests are enjoying the clear blue sky and the bright summer sun. Apparently, no one seems to be worried about tomorrow’s weather. On the other hand, I am really annoyed by the dark gray cloud with a lightning bolt on my screen. In my mind I ponder the past few days in which we started the decision-making process for this climb.
Unconsciously, a lament starts to form in my head. If only we had gotten up earlier this morning. If only we had walked to the hut late last night so that we could have climbed today. If only we had done this and that. Fortunately, I know how to quickly suppress the negative spiral of thoughts. In the twenty years that I have been climbing, I have learned one thing. And that is that you cannot control the weather. And that you certainly do not let your day be ruined by something you have no influence on. "Hey Boris, what do you think of this route?"
The approach
Under a crystal clear sky with bright stars we walk along the small lake to the start of the moraine. The reflection of the moon on the rippling water surface creates a twinkling silver-grey spectacle. When I look back I see the last headlamps of a long string of lights disappearing into the night. Of the 120 climbers in the hut, 118 left last night for the normal route of the Gran Paradiso. The other two climbers walk in the other direction, towards the unknown.
When dawn announces itself high in the sky we stand at the foot of a scree slope. Last night we had inspected the slope from a distance but now in the half-darkness and closer it is difficult to distinguish depth, let alone get an overview. And especially in this wasteland of loose chunks of stone and grit. So far we have walked for about an hour on a vague path on the well-consolidated moraine ridge. But now we really have to climb the slope to reach the shoulder from where the route starts. “Well, shall we go up here?” Boris and I start up the untidy slope in unison. There is not a single trace of people who have gone before us. Even goat paths seem to be completely absent. Slowly but steadily we look for the most efficient way up through the tangle. Gravel, stones, chunks and occasionally in-situ rock alternate. The daylight has meanwhile unnoticedly dispelled the darkness. As a result, the dimensions of the terrain have become clearer. We continue our way in a zigzag. Sometimes I decide to leave the scree slope and climb through the solid rock. Boris, on the other hand, continues his way in his own way. Where a hiking trail determines the route for you, here we have the freedom and creativity to make our own choices. That is also what has always attracted me to mountaineering and also climbing on my own protection. The extra resolving power, the pure form but above all the freedom to make your own choices.
On the shoulder
Sitting on a large boulder, I take off my mountain shoe to remove a small piece of rock. A fabulous view unfolds before me. Behind Boris, who completes the last meters up to the shoulder, a wide panorama stretches out. On the left, the first rays of sunlight skim over the rugged mountain peaks of the southern Gran Paradiso massif. With the rock climbing paradise ‘Valle Dell Orco’ somewhere behind it. On the right, still in the blue morning light, the approach route from the hut through the disorderly, almost chaotic terrain of loose chunks of stone. With the imposing tower of the Becca di Moncorvé towering above everything behind it. A vertical 500 m high wall ending in a pointed tower that forms the top. From here, nothing indicates that this 3875 m high peak is only a protrusion of the immensely popular 4000’er the Gran Paradiso. How strange that I had never noticed this tower before. And how strange that we are all alone here while not far away more than a hundred people are shuffling up in a single line to the top?
Why does everyone choose the well-known and busy areas en masse? Do we really need Tripadvisor to make every trip the best? Does a climbing area really need to be described in detail in the visually stunning modern publications of Rockfax? Do we really not want to climb a route because it doesn't get stars? Do we really wait until the conditions are described by name on Instagram? Is the opinion of the other mountaineer really worth that much to us?
Is it the fear of the unknown? Or do we simply have no room for setbacks in our vain lives? Our vain and busy lives where work and private life demand so much of us. Where we can hardly plan a few weeks for the mountains. The weeks in which it has to happen. The weeks that can also be ruined by bad weather.
Cresta Sud
On the shoulder we take some time to determine the continuation of the route. The plan is to climb the relatively easy south ridge of the Becca di Moncorvé (3875m). The description in my Italian climbing guide is short but clear: Arrampicata bella e panoramica - Portare dadi e friend, 2 corde da 50 m. With 530 m of climbing to a difficulty of max. 5a, this seemed to us a sensible choice with the predicted thunderstorm. An overview photo, with a vague red line drawn in, is the only information we could find so quickly. Now it is up to us. Where does the rock look most reliable? Where can I place protection? And especially where do I think I can climb up?
With the first rays of sunshine I start climbing up one of the dihedrals. It feels good and familiar to finally have solid rock under my feet. After twenty meters I also see Boris climbing up behind me. We climb on a running belay, where we both move at the same time and can therefore gain more speed. Further on, a piece of wood, battered by the weather and wind, conspicuously protrudes from a crack in the rock. The piece of wood is the first sign of human activity that we encounter that day. The wood was almost certainly used almost 50 years ago during the first ascent of this ridge by Andrea Oggioni and Josve Aiazzi, the famous climbing duo who together created new routes and prestigious climbs through the Alps in the fifties. They were undoubtedly also on an adventure all by themselves at that time.
I quickly climb over the angularly shaped chunks of gneiss rock. The eye-shaped chunks of quartz and feldspar form perfect steps and holds. It is remarkable how the original granite has undergone a metamorphosis under high pressure and temperatures and has liquefied into this so-called augen gneiss. Halfway along the striking traverse to the left, I make a stand and belay Boris after me. Whereupon Boris takes over the sharp end of the rope again. Boris skillfully climbs up through the large profiled dihedrals. A little later I climb through the steep fifth-degree passage to the top. Large angular shapes and steep moves on good holds provide a spectacular and physical pitch. It is wonderful climbing, not too difficult, solid rock, good protection and beautiful structures. It is simply enjoyable. Enjoying the route, the view and ambiance but above all the serene silence around us.
The summit
At the top I think back to the wonderful day of climbing. The climb that started with the difficult decision not to start our main goal. But how it ultimately turned out surprisingly with the climbing of a true gem. A hidden classic. Because as so often happens, adversity turns out to be a good recipe for adventure. So be honest with yourself and be open to the world around you. Because for those who seek adventure, it can be found. And often closer than you think!
Author: Niek de Jonge
It is hot. Very hot, even for the end of August. After almost three hours of trudging up through the heat, we arrive at the large wooden terrace of the Rifugio Vittorio Emanuelle II. I quickly throw off my bag and take off my mountain boots. Sitting on the stone wall, Boris and I watch the hustle and bustle of the busy terrace. The terrace is packed with Italians. Always easy to recognize by their brightly colored and well-styled mountain clothing. And of course by the incessant chatter in Italian. It is striking how many Italians can converse with each other without interruption, gesticulating and very temperamental.
Approaching thunderstorm
“Mmm, there is a thunderstorm predicted with a lot of rain for tomorrow afternoon”. Bent over our mobile phones, Boris and I look at the various weather sites. “How is that possible? When we looked last night, the forecast seemed much more in our favor”. I quickly consult various weather apps, but they all predict the same thing. Thunderstorms with a lot of rain from the afternoon onwards. “What if we start really early so that we can start climbing at first light?” “Yes, but then we have to do the approach in the dark and we don’t know the approach and it is almost never done”.
Boris and I are sitting inside at one of the large wooden tables. In the kitchen, dinner is already being prepared for the 120 guests of the fully booked hut. Trays full of large bottles of ‘Birra Moretti’ are served to the guests on the terrace. The guests are enjoying the clear blue sky and the bright summer sun. Apparently, no one seems to be worried about tomorrow’s weather. On the other hand, I am really annoyed by the dark gray cloud with a lightning bolt on my screen. In my mind I ponder the past few days in which we started the decision-making process for this climb.
Unconsciously, a lament starts to form in my head. If only we had gotten up earlier this morning. If only we had walked to the hut late last night so that we could have climbed today. If only we had done this and that. Fortunately, I know how to quickly suppress the negative spiral of thoughts. In the twenty years that I have been climbing, I have learned one thing. And that is that you cannot control the weather. And that you certainly do not let your day be ruined by something you have no influence on. "Hey Boris, what do you think of this route?"
The approach
Under a crystal clear sky with bright stars we walk along the small lake to the start of the moraine. The reflection of the moon on the rippling water surface creates a twinkling silver-grey spectacle. When I look back I see the last headlamps of a long string of lights disappearing into the night. Of the 120 climbers in the hut, 118 left last night for the normal route of the Gran Paradiso. The other two climbers walk in the other direction, towards the unknown.
When dawn announces itself high in the sky we stand at the foot of a scree slope. Last night we had inspected the slope from a distance but now in the half-darkness and closer it is difficult to distinguish depth, let alone get an overview. And especially in this wasteland of loose chunks of stone and grit. So far we have walked for about an hour on a vague path on the well-consolidated moraine ridge. But now we really have to climb the slope to reach the shoulder from where the route starts. “Well, shall we go up here?” Boris and I start up the untidy slope in unison. There is not a single trace of people who have gone before us. Even goat paths seem to be completely absent. Slowly but steadily we look for the most efficient way up through the tangle. Gravel, stones, chunks and occasionally in-situ rock alternate. The daylight has meanwhile unnoticedly dispelled the darkness. As a result, the dimensions of the terrain have become clearer. We continue our way in a zigzag. Sometimes I decide to leave the scree slope and climb through the solid rock. Boris, on the other hand, continues his way in his own way. Where a hiking trail determines the route for you, here we have the freedom and creativity to make our own choices. That is also what has always attracted me to mountaineering and also climbing on my own protection. The extra resolving power, the pure form but above all the freedom to make your own choices.
On the shoulder
Sitting on a large boulder, I take off my mountain shoe to remove a small piece of rock. A fabulous view unfolds before me. Behind Boris, who completes the last meters up to the shoulder, a wide panorama stretches out. On the left, the first rays of sunlight skim over the rugged mountain peaks of the southern Gran Paradiso massif. With the rock climbing paradise ‘Valle Dell Orco’ somewhere behind it. On the right, still in the blue morning light, the approach route from the hut through the disorderly, almost chaotic terrain of loose chunks of stone. With the imposing tower of the Becca di Moncorvé towering above everything behind it. A vertical 500 m high wall ending in a pointed tower that forms the top. From here, nothing indicates that this 3875 m high peak is only a protrusion of the immensely popular 4000’er the Gran Paradiso. How strange that I had never noticed this tower before. And how strange that we are all alone here while not far away more than a hundred people are shuffling up in a single line to the top?
Why does everyone choose the well-known and busy areas en masse? Do we really need Tripadvisor to make every trip the best? Does a climbing area really need to be described in detail in the visually stunning modern publications of Rockfax? Do we really not want to climb a route because it doesn't get stars? Do we really wait until the conditions are described by name on Instagram? Is the opinion of the other mountaineer really worth that much to us?
Is it the fear of the unknown? Or do we simply have no room for setbacks in our vain lives? Our vain and busy lives where work and private life demand so much of us. Where we can hardly plan a few weeks for the mountains. The weeks in which it has to happen. The weeks that can also be ruined by bad weather.
Cresta Sud
On the shoulder we take some time to determine the continuation of the route. The plan is to climb the relatively easy south ridge of the Becca di Moncorvé (3875m). The description in my Italian climbing guide is short but clear: Arrampicata bella e panoramica - Portare dadi e friend, 2 corde da 50 m. With 530 m of climbing to a difficulty of max. 5a, this seemed to us a sensible choice with the predicted thunderstorm. An overview photo, with a vague red line drawn in, is the only information we could find so quickly. Now it is up to us. Where does the rock look most reliable? Where can I place protection? And especially where do I think I can climb up?
With the first rays of sunshine I start climbing up one of the dihedrals. It feels good and familiar to finally have solid rock under my feet. After twenty meters I also see Boris climbing up behind me. We climb on a running belay, where we both move at the same time and can therefore gain more speed. Further on, a piece of wood, battered by the weather and wind, conspicuously protrudes from a crack in the rock. The piece of wood is the first sign of human activity that we encounter that day. The wood was almost certainly used almost 50 years ago during the first ascent of this ridge by Andrea Oggioni and Josve Aiazzi, the famous climbing duo who together created new routes and prestigious climbs through the Alps in the fifties. They were undoubtedly also on an adventure all by themselves at that time.
I quickly climb over the angularly shaped chunks of gneiss rock. The eye-shaped chunks of quartz and feldspar form perfect steps and holds. It is remarkable how the original granite has undergone a metamorphosis under high pressure and temperatures and has liquefied into this so-called augen gneiss. Halfway along the striking traverse to the left, I make a stand and belay Boris after me. Whereupon Boris takes over the sharp end of the rope again. Boris skillfully climbs up through the large profiled dihedrals. A little later I climb through the steep fifth-degree passage to the top. Large angular shapes and steep moves on good holds provide a spectacular and physical pitch. It is wonderful climbing, not too difficult, solid rock, good protection and beautiful structures. It is simply enjoyable. Enjoying the route, the view and ambiance but above all the serene silence around us.
The summit
At the top I think back to the wonderful day of climbing. The climb that started with the difficult decision not to start our main goal. But how it ultimately turned out surprisingly with the climbing of a true gem. A hidden classic. Because as so often happens, adversity turns out to be a good recipe for adventure. So be honest with yourself and be open to the world around you. Because for those who seek adventure, it can be found. And often closer than you think!
Author: Niek de Jonge