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With the bad weather forecast, I suggest that the group arrive in the Oberlan massif from above, to try and make the most of the short window of opportunity we have. Rather than waste the day walking up the endless flat of the Aletsch glacier, we decide to take the train from Brig to Grindelwald, then the Eiger Express and finally the cogwheel train to the Jungfraujoch. The skiing was pretty bad up there, in heavy snow transformed by the foehn. Visibility was average, and we didn't manage to reach either the Louwitor or the Grünhornlücke later that afternoon. So this was a hike without any high points, a walk to discover the immense glaciers of the Oberland. Visibility was poor, the colours dull and grey, and the glacial atmosphere almost depressing. But we still managed to get a glimpse of the grandeur of this massif. We finish the day with a steep climb to the Konkordiahütte.
Wednesday was still forecast to be fine in the morning two days earlier, but on Tuesday evening, the forecast changed to bad. So we had to leave the massif, with two options. The first was via the Lötschenlücke to descend to Blatten, to the west, and give ourselves the impression of having done at the very least a simple micro-crossing of the west of the massif. The second, the emergency plan, was to descend the Aletsch glacier (the longest glacier in Europe!), cross a tunnel with its entrance buried under the snow, exit on the Fiescheralp side, then descend into the valley via the skips. When we woke up at 5am, thinking we could still make the most of a hypothetical morning window of fine weather, we discovered instead that the mountains were stuck in the doldrums, with a strong wind blowing and snow falling. In the distance, Lötschenlücke has disappeared into the clouds. With no objections or doubts, we opt for the plan to retreat via Fiescheralp. After 7 kilometres of ultra-flat terrain, we leave the glacier, climb up a small valley and find the marmot hole that gives access to the buried tunnel door. A kilometre of underground walking by headlamp, and we're on the other side. A little more flat skinning to reach Fiescheralp, where we unfortunately find the lifts closed and the village-station ghostly! So we continued across the balconies to Bettmeralp, where we found human life again and a working ski lift to the valley. There's a tipper-train connection straight away and we're back in Brig. We continue our escape by taking refuge in Chamonix, where we will try to save the weekend.
"And thank you so much for saving our trip. "
It's with this last message that I can resume writing about the last few days of our raid in the Oberland. Or rather, what was left of it! Remember, in the previous chapter, we escaped the massif by descending the Aletsch glacier. On Tuesday evening, we arrived in grey Chamonix, caught in the rain.
We forgot about Thursday, which was far too bad to imagine venturing into the mountains. I use the morning's free time for a group climbing session indoors at Les Houches, as it's raining ropes outside.
So what next? A spell of fine weather is forecast for Friday morning, before the clouds and precipitation return. Saturday should be mild under a veil of cloud. Add to that the fact that, to adapt to the group's level of skiing, I can only choose routes that are not too steep on the way down, with a maximum of 1200m D+. What programme should I propose? I decided to opt for a classic itinerary, far from being a secret sector: Two days in the Vallée Blanche...
With the ingredients I have at my disposal, I'm trying to reinvent the recipe to make it an original, immersive experience. For some time now, I'd been toying with the strange idea of going up it, and then skiing it, rather than arriving in the crush of the skip. But the prospect of going up against the waves of skiers had always put me off. This time, using my 'enlightened opportunism', I realised that the stars seemed to be aligned for this little project.
The refuge is unguarded, as the wardens have returned this week. It's a godsend for a real mountain experience. So we set off with a few freeze-dried items and a stove. It's not much, but it makes our outing look like a little adventure! We took the first Montenvers train, set foot on the Mer de Glace at 11am, and put on our skis 30 minutes later. The sky was clear and there was hardly anyone around, so we entered the massif from below, like the pioneers, discovering the Grandes Jorasses, the Aiguille du Tacul and the Dent du Géant. Marie and Claude, who had never been up there before, were in for a treat.
As we make our way up the glacier, we hear the constant roar of rockslides, with boulders of all sizes falling from the lateral moraines and crashing hundreds of metres below, dragging a whole trail of rocks, cobblestones and dust with them. It's a hot day and the sky is beginning to cloud over from below. The clouds roll in and cover us as we reach the dining room. Numerous snowflakes had rolled down the south-facing slopes of the Aiguilles. After crossing the steep slopes above the small bars in the fog, we were relieved to reach the refuge. It's 2pm, and we spend the afternoon keeping ourselves busy by collecting water from the solar melters, heating and drinking litres of tea in the 5°C dormitory, and seeking warmth wrapped up in the duvets.
When we woke up the next morning at 5am, the weather had lived up to its promise. The stars were shining brightly in the clear sky. It had been a cool night, but the frost had refrozen well. After melting some snow, we filled our thermos flasks and left our beloved refuge. How lucky we were to have it all to ourselves, as it is under siege during the day all winter long!
We set off again in the dawning light. This morning the mountain is on fire. Thin clouds burn and glow on the peaks of the Courtes and Droites. Opposite us, Mont Blanc du Tacul and Grand Capucin light up in the first rays of the sun. There's a lot of snow at altitude, the crevasses are well filled in, almost invisible, and the relief has been smoothed by the wind. We roped up and walked around the Gros Rognon via the Géant glacier. We didn't see anyone. Only a track leads to the col d'Entrève, and a roped party is at the foot of the Tacul gullies. At the Col du Gros Rognon, the first skiers to get out of the skip passed us by. We arrived on the Midi Plan ridge at around 10am, far enough away from the paragliding launch so as not to be in the middle of the crowd.
The stream of gregarious skiers rushes down the "classic Vallée Blanche", while we continue our solitary experience with the descent of the "True Valley". We finished these 5 complicated days with some beautiful images, and that's what saves our stay, with the feeling of having experienced something unique.
