Grand Combin W-E Traverse

*Approaching the hut, the Combin de Valsorey rising in the distance.*

It was now the middle of August and the air in Zurich was almost unbearably hot and humid. This stable window of high pressure weather meant that in the mountains, temperatures were similarly soaring. And although this would lead to a rapid deterioration of the snow and glacier conditions, it also allowed for an opportunity to attempt some truly high alpine bivys. Together with Maurice, I had in fact planned for our first summit bivy on a 4000-meter peak. The summit of our choice was the Grand Combin de Valsorey – one of the three official 4000-meter peaks along the Grand Combin massif. Our idea was to do the full traverse, west to east, of all three summits after spending the night on the first one. A long and arduous tour, which we hoped to split up by opting for this plan. Thereby, we would have already completed a significant chunk of our route on the first day, including almost all elevation gain.

When we stepped out of the Bus in Bourg-Saint-Pierre, we could immediately feel the heat, and so we set off at a leisurely pace to reach the Cabane de Valsorey. The path was busy and we overtook a number of hikers on our way. Around the halfway point, we veered off the red and white hiking trail to take a shortcut through a narrow couloir that was marked with blue and white signs. Here we climbed some ladders and enjoyed the momentary shade provided by the steep walls to either side. When we rejoined the regular path, we could now see the Combin de Valesory rising sharply above the Cabane de Valsorey which was perched on a rocky buttress in the distance. The ridge leading up from the Col du Meitin to the summit looked jagged and steep from below, and we realised how much further we’d have to go to reach our “room for the night”. But our intermediate goal for now was the hut, where we arrived in just under three hours, despite not making a particular effort to be fast. Since it was still hours until sunset, we decided to lounge in the chairs outside the hut. Soaking in the sun, we enjoyed some cake and coke while waiting for the afternoon to pass by, trying to time our summit push so we wouldn’t spend more time than necessary at altitude.

*Making our way up to the Col du Meitin*

We set off shortly before 6 p.m., and after more than two hours of rest, we felt re-energized and motivated. The path behind the hut was very well-marked with some rather large cairns, but shortly before stepping onto the small glacier (if it even warrants being called a glacier) below the couloir leading up to the Col du Meitin, we must’ve veered off. However, we knew where to aim for and decided to try and gain as much height as possible next to the snow slopes of the glacier before crossing it. This way, we essentially only needed to do a short traverse of perhaps 200 meters in the soft afternoon snow, which we were able to do in boots without crampons. Going up to the Col du Meitin then turned out to be the toughest part of our day. The rock was crumbling, and the path was covered with loose scree. Following the advice we got at the hut, we put on our helmets to protect ourselves from potential rockfall. We were quite happy to be the only ones on the mountain at this hour and not have to climb below other parties. Roughly an hour and fifteen minutes after leaving the hut, we arrived at the Col du Meitin in the beautiful evening glow of the sun.

Here we took a short break to gear up, but didn’t rope up yet, as the terrain was fairly easy going in the beginning of the ridge. The route-finding wasn’t too difficult, and occasional cairns or footprints confirmed we were on the right track. But I could see how this terrain might be a lot more tricky to navigate in the dark, and so we took full advantage of our plan that led to us climbing this stunning ridge in the setting sun. We were eager to move fast, as it was less than two hours until sunset when we arrived at the Col, and we wanted to try and climb as much of the ridge as possible without having to use our headlamps. This led to us being perhaps a little overzealous, and we eventually had to admit that we weren’t on route anymore as we climbed up some short but steep sections that would certainly meet the indicated difficulties of the crux sections of this climb, which, however, were supposed to be much higher up. The climbing still felt easy enough, although the rock quality wasn’t always perfect. And the terrain looked to be navigable without too much trouble, we could already see a big overhanging sections below which we knew we had to traverse – and so we ventured on, trusting to eventually rejoin the route at some point.

*The sun setting on the Arête du Meitin*

*On the Combin de Valsorey in the last glow of evening light*

In the end, our efforts were rewarded, and we found ourselves below the first bolt in the now much more solid-looking rock. The climbing didn’t appear to be any more difficult than what we had already climbed below, hence we didn’t see the point in getting the rope out now. So we continued to climb unroped, enjoying the now perfect rock quality. Moving without a rope allowed us to be fast and efficient, and so we made quick progress up the steepest sections of the ridge. The sun was setting now and coating the rock in an intense orange and red glow. Despite having climbed through many sunrises, the experience of climbing on such a route during sunset was surreal. We took a short break to capture some images in this amazing light and then continued up a short and straightforward couloir. From here, the terrain got easier until the very last meters up to the summit. The sun had now set below the horizon and we were climbing through the fading light when I dropped my sunglasses, which I had attached to my shoulder strap. In the beam of my head torch, I was fortunate to find them quickly just a few meters below. I then turned off my headlamp and made it technically to the summit with only the last light to guide our way. Topping out on the Combin de Valrosey and standing next to the summit cross, our silhouettes framed against the last glow of light on the horizon, was a spectacular feeling.

*Our bivy spot on the summit of the Combin de Valsorey*

We didn’t lose much time, however, and I went on to start melting snow while Maurice began to dig out a bivy spot in the snow. With us both being quite dehydrated, the snow melting went on for quite some time. We were also reasonably tired, having made over 2500 meters in ascent today, and it was just then that I realized this trip also marked the first time I had summited a 4000-meter peak in one day from the valley. After we had filled our water bottles, we were quick to crawl into our sleeping bags, where I had to force myself to eat one of my sandwiches. The altitude had apparently dulled my appetite, and after lying down and shutting my eyes, I realized that I wasn’t in for much sleep tonight. The conditions for our bivy, however, were excellent, just as we had planned: Basically no wind, a clear sky (in which the occasional shooting star could be seen), and temperatures right around freezing. It did take some time to heat up my sleeping bag, but in the end, the altitude was the main factor compromising sleep quality. Fortunately, the heavy feeling inside my head waned off during the night and I was able to get a few hours of sleep by the end of it.

*Waking up to the glow of the next day on the horizon*

The next morning we were greeted by the warm glow of the sunrise on the horizon, but the air was still cool, and the prospect of leaving the warmth of our sleeping bags was not particularly appealing. To our surprise, we were also greeted by a mountain guide and his client, who had started from the hut early this morning and made it to the summit shortly before 6 a.m., where they now took a rest and were visibly amused by the look of our snugly bivy in the snow. They eventually set off to climb the Combin de Grafeneire which was unfortunately positioned so that it was blocking the sun, which had by now risen above the horizon. Therefore, waiting for the warm rays of sunshine wasn’t really an option for us, and we had no choice but to grit our teeth as we scrambled out of our sleeping bags and started packing everything up. It took some time for our bodies to get moving in the cold, and so it was just before 7 a.m. when we eventually left our bivy site.

The sun had just come up behind the Combin de Grafeneire and it’s warmth was reinvigorating our tired bodies. It felt good to finally be on the move again, and the headache I had felt during the night was completely gone by now. After a short downhill, we started up the slope leading towards our first (new) 4000-meter peak of the day. We could follow the tracks of the guide and I was feeling strong and full of energy. The climb was easier and shorter than it had looked yesterday evening and it took us only 40 minutes to reach the summit. From here, we enjoyed some of the most spectacular views I’ve ever witnessed from any summit. To the west, we could see the entire Mont-Blanc-Massive and even make out the Aiguille du Midi station as a tiny speck in the distance. To the east, the Wallis unfolded before us in its entire glory. 4000-meter peak after 4000-meter peak was stacked next to each other, with the Matterhorn rising like a jagged trophy between all of them. Together with the layers of fog in between the peaks and valleys, it made for a truly stunning vista.

From here, we could also look at the (sometimes quite narrow and steep-looking) firn-ridge leading towards our final summit. Coming down from the Combin de Grafeneire there was a good, visible path we could follow and the snow was still reasonably firm. We then gained a short but steep section up a little intermediate peak called Aguille du Croissant which stands at 4259 meters, but doesn’t meet the UIAA criteria for being an official 4000-meter peak. Afterward, we had to navigate the Mur de la Côte, a steep slope that can become tricky when iced up. While following in the footsteps, we at some point found ourselves having left the path and now stood to the west of the flank that would lead us down into easier terrain. I briefly tried to start traversing the slope, but the snow conditions here were rather suboptimal. Too firm to be able to comfortably kick steps, but below the thin surface of snow there was only rotten ice in which it was impossible to place an ice screw. I decided to reverse my steps and come back to Maurice who was belaying me from his ice axe plunged into the snow (more mental support than anything else). We agreed there had to be an easier way and walked back up from where we came from, looking for the spot at which we had diverted from the path. And sure enough, after only 50 meters we found the track again and immediately realized it led to some steps, which made the steep down climb a lot more manageable. The snow was starting to get soft, even though it was only nearing 9 a.m., but eventually we reached a sort of plateau where we sat in the snow to have a small break and rehydrate. The rest of the way to the Combin de la Tsessette was easy and straightforward, and a little bit after 9 a.m. we stood on top of the third and final of the Grand Combin peaks. But we knew our day was far from over. What we now faced was an interminable descent down to Mauvoisin where the last bus was scheduled to leave at 4:30 p.m. Still quite some time away, but knowing the length of the descent in front of us, we got going quickly.

*The Matterhorn in the distance, rising in the middle of a sea of fog*

The first part of the descent involves a series of no less than eight rappels in some of the most crumbly and loose rock I’ve come across. Many of the rappel stations were equipped with three or even four bolts, which at least gave us some reassurance. The rappels themselves were not trivial either, and on the second one, I promptly managed to find myself hanging in space with only 5 meters of rope below me and the next rappel station nowhere to be seen. Not knowing whether to search to my right or left, I had no choice but to ascend the rope again and try to take another good look from above. Luckily, another party of two Italians just made their way down and managed to find the rappel station. It was hidden behind a rock, and there was no way I could have spotted it by looking for bolts or chains. Its only indication was a small cairn that can be hard to spot when you are searching to find metal hardware. Fortunately, the rest of the rappels went without further incidents, and we safely made our way down. From here, the descent was far from over, but the most technical challenges were behind us. We were now following a rather wide ridge line that was very loose in parts but spacious enough to never make you feel exposed. Here, we managed to make good on some of the time we had lost during the rappels. By now, it was past noon, and we were starting to get worried that catching the last bus might prove to be more of a challenge than we would have liked. It was now about just grinding it out, knowing we still had almost 2000 vertical meters to descend until reaching the barrier lake, which we would then have to walk along for another seemingly endless stretch before reaching Mauvoisin.

*A rappel station with no less than three bolts to give some reassurance in the chossy rock*

Since I had work the next day and was determined to make it to Zurich by tonight, I was upping the pace a little bit. Maurice was taking it a bit more relaxed but was urging me on to go ahead and wanted to catch up later. After we descended from the ridge and crossed a short glacier, I was now going down a bouldery couloir at a brisk pace, and looking back Maurice fell farther and farther behind. I was starting to doubt whether he could catch up with me, but it was by now also clear that if I wanted a shot at making the last bus, I couldn’t afford to wait for him. So I had no choice but to continue on my own. By the time I got down to the lake, it was 3 p.m., which gave me precisely 1.5 hours to make the walk along the lake, which was indicated on a yellow sign post to take 2 hours and 15 minutes. It was going to be a tight one, for sure, but possible. I stripped myself of my harness, took off my helmet, pulled the straps of my backpack as tight as I could, and started jogging in my mountain boots along the lakeside road. I was surprised to even have the energy in my legs to run, but, as is often the case, there just needs to be sufficient motivation to tap into the energy reserves. And so, through a mix of running and power hiking, I made it into Mauvoisin with just 10 minutes to spare.

*Looking back while on the interminable descent....*

*The barrier lake in the distance, still a long way to go...*

I felt a bit bad for Maurice, who was for sure going to miss the last bus, but there was nothing I could do. But what I only now realized was that I wasn’t done with hiking. Recent floods had damaged some roads leading out of the valley, and as a result, the bus was running between Mauvoisin and Le Châble with an important caveat: Between Champsec and Lourtier one has to walk 45 minutes by foot to the next bus station to bypass the road block. What I didn’t know at the time was that this delay also made an unexpected reunion possible. Maurice had decided that he was not going to be stranded in the little village at the end of the lake and had tried his luck at hitchhiking. And he did so with resounding success. He even found someone with the permit to use the forest road and was thereby spared the walk down into Champsec. There, he just barely missed the bus I had just embarked on towards the train station in Le Châble. But amazingly, he immediately found someone to give him a ride there as well, and so I couldn’t believe my eyes when he, out of seemingly nowhere, sat down in front of me on the train! What an amazing odyssey it has been. In total, we covered a distance of 31km and over 3000m of ascent since starting Bourg-Saint-Pierre and now being reunited on the ride home was just the end to our adventure that we needed.

Nadelgrat Traverse

Ober Gabelhorn North Face