This
post is part trip report, part personal. This was a very difficult, but
incredibly special climb for me. Sorry this is long, but that's what
happens when you do something life changing.
The story behind this summit attempt actually starts 7 years ago on
this very mountain. At the time, I had just summitted the Jungfrau in
Switzerland, and I was on a quest to bag my second peak in a few days.
As luck would have it, I had a run in with an unsympathetic guide and
the attempt was called off as we came down the Mont Blanc du Tacul (the
first summit). I was heartbroken to say the least, but I told myself
that I would get this peak some day in the future.
Fast forward to today. We had tried desperately to get into the Tete
Rousse hut and do the traverse of Mont Blanc from the eastern side.
Supposedly, its an easier route. As luck would have it, the hut was
full and we had to go to the Refuges de Cosmiques (better known as the
Cosmiques hut). This was the standard Mont Blanc traverse route. This
is when the story gets weird. My guide, Zoe Hart happened to guide this
same route seven years ago on the exact same day I attempted the
summit. We are sure of it, because we both know the same guide I had an
issue with. She broke trail that day. Thus, circumstance has been set
so that I can 1) do the same route I failed at the first time and 2)
use a guide from that very day. Something was amiss, but in a good way.
The other weird thing was that I wasn't at all scared. Usually, I'm
scared shitless when climbing a big peak. Worried that I won't have the
fortitude to actually summit. For some reason, I had the confidence
that I was going to summit and nothing was going to stop me. That is
the first time that has ever happened to me. I still feel scared on
Rainier even though I've summitted it a number of times.
At the Cosmiques hut, we had a great dinner of chicken and rice with
peanut sauce. It was actually pretty good. Then we were given our
breakfast time of 1am, which meant that I would need to wake up at
12:30 to get ready. I didn't finish eating til 7pm the night before and
I tried to "sleep" immediately after that. Imagine trying to sleep in a
room with 25 other people at 12,500 feet with limited oxygen, all of
whom have different agendas and sleep schedules. It doesn't really
work. To top it off, I had a top bunk which means I had approximately 2
meters of head space. Climbers' beds were cramped next to each other so
close that one time I unfortunately grabbed the blanket from the
climber next to me while I slept. She was none too happy with me.
After a small breakfast of cereal and a bowl of coffee (of which I
barely drank, didn't want the runs on the mountain), I grabbed my gear,
put on my crampons and got ready to climb. I tied in to the rope at
1:49 am and we were off. As we started climbing a weird old french guy
hit on Zoe. Seriously… he said that he couldn't see in the fog and he
needed to be behind a beautiful American woman to get to the top. Uh…
are we in a bar? WTF? Dude, I pity the other person on your rope team.
With that, we raced past him and headed up the Mont Blanc du Tacul. The
climb up the first summit was standard snow slog. Steep in places, but
not technical. It wasn't very cold yet either. It was basically like
doing Mailbox Peak at two o'clock in the morning.
As we got to the summit of the Tacul, the wind decided to make itself
known. We stopped for a quick bite to eat, at which time I fought the
wind to put on my fleece vest under my soft shell. Then I fought the
wind to put on my hard shell overtop everything. Then my hands froze.
Zoe said it was time to bust out the deep freeze gloves that I always
pack but hardly ever use. The wind would be a constant defiant
companion for the rest of the climb.
At this point, we were close to 14,000 feet already, but we had a long
way to go. It was still very dark. As we walked down the Tacul we
passed HUGE seracs and crevasses. The protruding snow/ice was easily
bigger than a three story building. It was too dark to get photos
unfortunately, but trust me that these things were fucking huge. This
was about the point that the altitude started effecting me. I had done
a bunch of prep and acclimitization for it, but it wasn't enough. I
considered taking diamox, but I didn't want to stop every 20 minutes to
urinate. On top of that, the thought of pulling out my tiny guy in the
middle of the cold didn't sit well either. To compensate for the
altitude, I started pressure breathing constantly. This lasted for the
duration of the climb, which turned into a sore throat and a hacking
cough by morning.
The next bit of climbing was the most technical. Mont Maudit was the
second summit and it made the Tacul look like Mt. Adams. This was
almost vertical climbing, to the point where the last bit,
approximately 1.5 pitches, was all ice climbing. Nothing too hard, but
ice climbing none the less. I put the skills I learned in Ouray to good
use. Now mind you, we are at 14,000+ feet and I have had no sleep,
little food, and there is limited oxygen. This bit of climbing took a
lot of energy from me.
At the summit of the Maudit, the wind became a bitch. One step off the
ice, and the wind started pounding us unbelievably. The difference in
just two steps was amazing. Now it was time for the slog down the
Maudit and up the final summit of Mont Blanc Massif. At this point, it
was about 5am. This was also the point where my thoughts became binary.
If you've ever ran a marathon, you know what I'm talking about. At some
point, you are so tired that you see the world as black and white.
Given that, my thoughts were only on three things. Sleeping, my next
step and Emma. I tried to sing songs to myself to pass the time, but I
couldn't put the lyrics together. The altitude was causing me to become
sleepy, sort of like when you are awake at 1:00 am watching TV and your
eyes become droopy. That's exactly how I felt.
Emma has a way of pushing me. As I took each step pushing for the
summit, she kept popping into my head encouraging me. At some point it
became so loud it was like a church bell ringing, or the altitude was
giving me a headache. I'm not sure which. At 15,000 feet, we had to
walk across a glacier for 1/2 mile. It was the slowest walk I've ever
made, but by the end of the walk, the sun reflected off the summit and
all I could think about was how much I missed my little girl. Now each
step became a mission. As I took each step, I would pressure breathe
and say Emma's name in my head. More than once, I had to stop myself
from crying. I found myself yelling in the wind to focus on the climb.
By this point, the wind had grown even stronger. I was even colder.
Every fifth step, we had to stop because the wind was blowing ice onto
our faces. All thoughts about stopping or going back, which is common
on a big climb, left my brain. Fuck the ice. Next time we stopped, Zoe
asked me how I was doing and I said I was going to climb this mountain
come hell or high water. Let's stop resting and start moving. I was
motivated. Something inside of me, Emma perhaps, took over. Each step
became a battle against the wind, altitude and exhaustion.
Finally at 8:33 am, we summitted Mont Blanc. I took 5 steps on the
summit, dropped my pack, and wept. I had done it. I had finally
discovered where Emma lives in this world for me. Much in the same way
my close friend Bob is at the summit of Kilimanjaro, Emma's physical
home is at the summit of Mont Blanc. It felt right, and I felt her
presence. I also felt the fucking wind which was howling and causing my
tears to freeze on my cheeks. At this point, I knew what I had to do.
I had Zoe do the obligatory summit photo for me. Then she took a
special photo for my family, some of whom were visiting, and one whom I
felt would call this place home. As you see in the photo above, I am
wearing a necklace from Ellen that she made for me, Ella's favorite
toy, and a photo of Emma. After the photo was taken, I said a few words
to Emma and let the strong wind take the photo from my frozen hand.
Wouldn't you know it, but the photo flew into the direction of the
Matterhorn in Zermatt. I'm sure it didn't get all the way there, but
damn if I didn't find symbolism in the direction it flew. (Ellen and I
got married in Zermatt, which is a special place for us.)
As we left the summit, the thoughts of Emma left me. Now my thoughts
were about how I was going to get off this mountain. The walk down was
very long. As we passed Refuge Vallot (a bivi hut), we climbed over a
knife ridge and finally arrived at Gouter hut, but I was completely
wasted. From the summit, this took about 3 hours. After a quick lunch
and bathroom break, we left the glacier and the Gouter hut to rock
climb down to the Tete Rousse hut another 2,000 ft below. I had Elvis
legs at this point (term for legs that hop uncontrollably because they
are tired) and down climbing became a challenge. Thank god there was a
cable tied to the rocks to provide assistance.
Finally at the bottom of the rock climb and I felt great but tired. I
knew the rest of the way down of was an easy trail to the train
station. Zoe and I stopped for some more food, of which I despised at
this point, and headed on down the trail. What I thought was going to
be quick, just wasn't. My feet were getting beat up in my boots.
Blisters were a welcome feeling compared to what was happening to my
toes (note to self, bring double leather boots next time instead of
double plastic). Every step caused my toes to get beat up. My legs were
jelly, and hey that old football injury in my left knee decided to rear
its ugly head too.
As I started bitching to Zoe about where the hell was this damn train,
it dawned on me why this was taking so long. All great things take a
long time to become fruitful. All of my climbing/hiking friends have
heard the story about the "last mile" and how I've threatened to write
a book about the last mile of each hike. Every last mile I've ever
taken has been the hardest part of the hike/climb that day. After a 13
hour climb, this last mile became the bane of my existence. I realized
that this last mile symbolizes the life I would like to lead after
Emma. It won't be easy, but the reward will be the self satisfaction
that I pushed myself and left everything on the table. No regrets. Give
everything I have to my family, my friends and myself. That last mile
can be a bitch, but it is what defines you. Enjoying life on my own
terms means that I have to push through that last mile. Climbing Mont
Blanc reinforces my passion to enable others to enjoy life and push
through that last strenuous mile as well. As we finally found the train
station, I was completely spent. However, locating the final home for
Emma made it all worth it.
Pix from the climb can be found here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/nomadicentrepreneur/sets/72157621904844722/
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