Pre Warning: We didn’t really get any photos.
I often find it hard to sleep the night before a big route, especially if it has a fierce reputation. The night before the Dru however, I was working, so that wasn’t really a problem.
Straight from work, I drove to pick up my partner. After a few attempts phoning Ruby awake, the locked front door left only one option. Standing on the handrail outside the door, I managed to reach the balcony and pull up the railings. I jokingly thought that will be the hardest I pull all day, I was so very wrong. I woke Ruby’s housemate Adria, who, looking slightly confused, let me in. Ruby looked surprised to see me standing over her as she woke up, but quickly realised what had happened. Cursing her alarm, we got out sharpish and made it back to the hotel for some breakfast.
First lift just missed, we started the approach from Grand Montet, sure that this time we would get the entry to the Dru couloir right. Coming over the Petit Vert ridge, we were once again not in the right place. We had approached the Dru the week before, but we left the following morning cold and soaking wet, full of lessons learned about winter bivvying. This time we were going to get straight on the route as soon as we arrived. We made it to the base of the route in good time, and with all afternoon to make it the the niche, we were feeling pretty confident. Ruby agreed to lead off, as I would take over when things got a bit steeper. Initially, things didn’t go to plan. After a few meters of climbing, Ruby’s hands had frozen and I had to lower her down. 10 minutes of child birthing hot-aches later, I set off to lead through the first pitch, without the rack. I came back, picked up some gear and, finally, we started up the Pierre-Allain.
Initially, there was a lot of loose snow. This made the climbing slow going and meant climbing with axes and crampons, but we’d accounted for a bit of this so we merrily pitched the first pitch and when Ruby swung through to lead, we simuled up the rest of the ramp and through the first snow field. From here, we had hoped we would be able to ditch crampons and climb with our hands, even if they had to be gloved. But alas, the aspect of the route meant it had been in shielded from the sun, whilst the rock around had been cleared. This meant the axes had to stay out, as did the crampons, and it was back to clearing snow back to loose rock, which we then hooked our way up, inch by inch. The climbing, whilst not what he had anticipated, was thuggy and enjoyable, but was putting up some resistance. We steadily pitched our way along, clearing snow all the way as the clock ran down.
Up ahead, I could see the chimney pitch we had heard so much about. Assuring Ruby that it would be fine, I’d got some experience chimney climbing in the states, I shuffled along the ledge traverse and into the chimney. To get into the chimney, the rucksack had to come off and was clipped to an extender, so it was suspended just bellow my feet. The chimney proved to be fairly had work, mostly as I still had crampons on, which gave my heels no purchase agains the back wall, causing me to slip down a couple of feet on a few instances. Eventually, with bruised knees, I slithered out of the chimney and made it to the belay. On second, Ruby had a pretty hard time. I pulled hard on the rope to help out as much as I could and eventually the Dutch swearing got louder until I could see a helmet emerging. An afternoon of scratchy mixed climbing with a big bag on had clearly taken a lot out of Ruby and the chimney looked like a final nail in the coffin. It was getting late and from here we would be committed to climbing through to the niche as rockfall became a serious risk. Looking around at our current position, the small ledge was protected from above and seemed to be large enough for us to sit down.
We started by digging out a double sized bucket seat in the snow on the ledge and strung some rope between a second anchor to secure our bags and gear. After some time, hesitantly laying roll mats and edging our feet out of boots, we were in our bags, sitting upright, looking out over the massifs, feel dangling down into space. Ruby commented that it was like being in space, if you let go of anything, it would just drift away and you’d never see it again. I also noted that anything you didn’t keep warm, froze. Its amazing what you can learn from books and youtube videos, it was only now I told Ruby I’d never actually set up a seated bivvy like this before, but it seemed to have worked out well enough. Holding the stove in my hands, I made tea, then dinner and then we turned off our head torches and stared out over the valley. We could still see the dotted track in the snow far bellow from our approach. For the first time all day, we sat still and soaked in our situation. The clear sky illuminated the mountains with a blue-sliver glow and the whole of the Rouge seemed to rest bellow us. Trying not to slip out of my little seat*, the cliff dropping away under my feet for some 400m into the darkness, it felt like an enlightening moment. I had wondered how I would fair on a big winter route, and while we hadn’t come to try a fully wintered route, thats what we were on. I’d done some big rock routes before, sure, but out here there seemed to be a lot more to deal with. However, here I felt serenely content and surprisingly in control for such a new experience. Eventually, tiredness took ahold of my eyelids and drew the night to a close.
The next day, we reversed our bedding down procedure and I began my shuffle out along the ledge of the Lambert crack pitch.
Until now, the route had followed a line of weakness climbing up and right, which seemed at all times to be recessed slightly, meaning it received little sun compared to its surroundings. This pitch was no different. While all around the rock seems clear, sitting above my head, blocking the way forward, 100L of snow protruded out from a recess in the cracked rock. After a couple of steep hooks, I was high enough to start attacking it with my axe. Chopping small chunks off the bottom, I began to get pumped. I clipped into a wire and resumed my assault on the snow plug, but I still couldn’t reach high enough. I slipped my foot into a sling I’d clipped to the same wire and mantled up, stepping as high as i could on the sling. Now I had a better reach. I hacked at the sides of the snow but nothing came of it. I took one big swing into the middle of the white boulder which instantly freed the entire block causing it to drop smartly onto my head. It broke into smaller chunks, all of which seemed to go straight down my hood and into my jacket. Yet another lesson leant for next time, hood up. With the snow gone, I found some more hooks and hauled myself to the belay.
The following pitch proved just as tricky. A blank corner pitch made for difficult climbing in crampons, only made a bit easier with the aid of someones stuck ropes which helped pull through a couple of moves. I would be very careful pulling on these as they are just stuck in the snow and ice so may be loose very soon. In hindsight, we should have cut these ropes down. By now, I could see the energy fading in Ruby, but we still had some climbing to do till we were out of the rock fall zone below the niche. I lead as fast as I could across some easier ground and then swung Ruby onto lead, as she’d been seconding since mid afternoon the previous day. We could see the niche, so I told her just to keep going till she was across it, then I’d come across and we could have a discussion about what to do. When we got across the niche, it was clear that getting this far, in these conditions had pushed Ruby to the limit, and having only slept 3 hours over 2 nights, I wasn’t sure I had enough brain power for both of us. We were also slow, and slowing down, it was now midday on the second day and we were still a pitch below where we’d hoped to bivy on the first night. So we decided to bail. I had already checked out the American Direct as a potential escape option so I got my phone out to do some snooping. With my phone playing up, we got in contact with the PGHM who sent us some rough directions to an abseil down the west face of the Dru. Whilst we appreciated the help, these directions ended up proving confusing, so in the end they offered us a lift. Ruby has suffered heavily in the past from a bodged abseil and looking at the two spinning 5mm bolts we found where it seemed most likely the PGHM was sending us, I was also not so keen to lob myself off a 500m sheer drop in the hope there would be another anchor in 60m. An hour or so later, we were plucked from the face, suspended on a wire, 1000m in the air.
Waiting for our ride
Walking into Le Praz from the heli pad, to get a lift from Seamus, any slight feelings of sadness about not finishing the route were crushed under the satisfaction the last 2 days of climbing had brought. To say it was a learning experience would be an understatement and it has given me a great deal of confidence for trying more big winter lines. Although I could see Ruby looked a bit disappointed that she had burnt out, seeing how hard she had pushed, and for how long was inspirational, and I’m not sure I would have found as much energy to keep hacking away snow if it hadn’t been for the constant psyche coming from the belay. I also know that this isn’t the end of the story. Somewhere right now, theres a room being filled with Dutch swearing as a beam creaks from the strain of pull-ups and the additional weight of a loaded rucksack. We will be back.
*Note for my Mum: We were still attached to the wall with a rope, so sliding off the bivy would just be uncomfortable.
benclimbsthings 