photo: Rémi Ducloux, Lucas Moreira, mine.
Subscribed to the CAF club trip for ski touring. An interesting route around Gran Paradiso was planned. The ski touring season hasn't started yet, there's nobody around, and the huts are only in their winter mode without services. Well, why not make an adventure out of it.
Ideologist, Rémi, planned a 5-day itinerary, which is essentially the same plan outlined on camptocamp. Along with us, Luca also joined in, who is also French. So, I found myself surrounded by 2 Frenchmen risking spending several winter evenings discussing high matters. Rémi, by the way, is a teacher by profession.
While still on the road, it became clear that the weather at the end of the route would throw a surprise, so we tried to optimize the days and manage to fit it into 4 days. Initially, we planned to gain and descend a total of 5700 meters. After adjustments and fine-tuning (we removed Gran Paradiso itself since there was no snow there anyway), we ended up with 5400 meters over 4 days.
Valnontey (1666 m) - rifugio Vittorio Sella (2584 m) - Grand Serre (3552 m) - col E du Grand Neyron (3401 m) - refuge Chabod (2750m) - Col de la Becca di Moncorvé (3700 m) - rifugio Vittorio Emanuele II (2735 m) - col du Grand Paradis (3335 m) - bivouac Ivrea (2745 m) - col dei Becchi (2990 m) - Col de Teleccio (3304 m) - Lillaz (1617 m)
Before departure, I asked Rémi which skis to take - short and narrow ones or long and wide ones? "Take wider ones," he said, "you'll help us make a good track." When we arrived at the parking lot and unloaded, it turned out that both of them had short skis - 174/85.
On the first day, we quickly made it to the hut. We gained 900 meters, of which 400 meters with skis on our backs. It was sunny, warm, and beautiful. There was no stove or gas, so while the sun was shining, it was warm and we dried ourselves. But then it got chilly, and I ended up under 4 blankets, with only one nose sticking out.
On the second day, as if apologizing for the dullness of the first, immediately started delighting us with adventures. In the morning, we set out at 9:30 without hurrying too much. Of course, why rush? We are fast and powerful. The sun was warming, there was no wind, and nothing foreshadowed trouble. Closer to noon, we reached the base of the rock tower of Grand Serra and decided to conquer it, attaching our skis to our backpacks. That's when everything slowed down suddenly. Skis started stubbornly catching rocks for everyone, backpacks stopped fitting through chimneys, and it seemed like the altitude of 3500 meters was taking its toll as well.
The summit of Grand Serra is like a large brick balancing on a narrow ridge. It feels like you could shake it loose by jumping from the edge. Minutes turn into hours, and we somehow rather slowly managed to set up 3 rappels on the rocks before finally skiing down.
I must say, that was the only descent where we enjoyed skiing. Further on, the horizons began to widen, and eventually, another ridge (Grand Neyron) appeared before our eyes, which we had to cross. Imagine, it's 4:30pm, and we still had to gain another 400 meters and pass a decent flat section. It was almost sunset, around 6 pm, when I pushed myself forward, anticipating the sight of the steep snowy slope on the other side.
The disappointment was gradual. From the nearest gap, below, there were just cliffs. But the track I had downloaded on my phone showed a traverse, so I decided to trust it and started making my way through the loose snow along the ridge. Rémi and Luca were trailing behind a little.
I crawled to the next saddle, but there was no passage there either, and the track led further with a traverse. And it was getting dark. In short, it's not hard to guess that from this moment on, a small survival situation began. After about 20 minutes, I got fed up with traversing into the unknown and, tapping on the cliff, threw a loop over it. Let's go down. The thirty-meter rope was just enough to reach the snow. I have to give credit to the guys; in my absence, they worked quite efficiently up there, and I didn't even get too cold.
Then skiing by moonlight followed. Initially, it was quite decent until we encountered an icy crust. There, we had to fight a bit more, and about 10pm, we slid down to the Chabod hut. In total, it took us around 11 and a half hours with a gain of 1400 meters. I don't think I was expecting this kind of adventure!
Hallelujah, a stove, firewood, and gas. And no one around. If yesterday I had to go gather snow for cooking, today guys had already taken on roles themselves, and water was soon boiling without my intervention. Eureka.
The third day arrived, and as Rémi said, it would be the toughest because the second day was even tougher. In general, we decided that sneaking around at night wasn't very healthy, so we set out at 8:30. Excluding the ascent of Gran Paradiso from today's plan, we aimed to pass through Col du Grand Paradis and spend the night at the Ivrea hut. Besides Gran Paradiso itself, I didn't know anything from this list, so it was overall interesting.
Surprisingly, we progressed steadily, without jumping up and down, between the icefalls, and we even managed to overcome all the crevasse zones without taking off our skis, reaching the plateau by around noon. From there, we needed to descend to the Vittorio Emanuele II hut. I was hoping for a descent as pleasant as yesterday evening's, but instead, my legs encountered crust. The descent turned out to be quite challenging. There wasn't much snow, lots of rocks, and where there was snow, various types of crust depending on the exposure. It was anything but boring.
In the hut, there were some brits, and Rémi went to meet them. After 15 minutes, he came back looking surprised. He said that these guys want to climb the mountain tomorrow but they don't have skis or snowshoes. How will they manage? I thought to myself that I used to do that occasionally before I turned 40 and generally even somewhat successfully. French people are wild, they've never seen life.
The 20-minute tea break pass by quickly, and ahead of us was 600 metres climb to the col, where I envisioned a pleasant ski descent. Rémi promised that all difficulties and all those technical aspects, carrying skis on ourselves, were left behind on the second day: from now on, it's just skin up and ski down.
When the col appeared behind the moraine, I sensed trouble. The snow didn't reach the saddle, and the rocks above were ominously dark. Meanwhile, it was almost evening, and according to the map, we still had a long way to go. Despite our efforts to speed up, we only reached the col at 6 pm, and yes, skis on our backs, crampons and ice axes in hand. On the descent along the couloirs, Rémi performed a somersault and let out a scream that didn't sound like his own voice. His leg sank between the rocks while his body with the backpack rushed downwards. Somehow, his leg miraculously showed elasticity, and after a few French swearing, the situation didn't escalate further.
The sky was cloudy, we were in the clouds, couldn't see a thing. It wasn't even moonlit skiing. Thanks to the gps track, by 8 pm we were standing by a small yellow hut proudly named "Capanna Ivrea". By the way, it turned out to be a good hut, albeit small. Cozy, warm, with blankets and mattresses. We had been walking for about 12 hours again, and gained 1600 meters in elevation.
Meanwhile, the weather was deteriorating, and the next day snow was expected. Besides the snow, there were also two mountain passes ahead. In the last three days, we had phone signal only once near the Vittorio Emanuele II hut. And here we were again observing an information detox. It's a bit concerning that in case of an emergency, it's unclear where to run. But we didn't even want to think about that.
The fourth day, also the final one. In the morning, I somehow took a while to get going, even missed the moment when we started heading in the wrong direction, which added another extra 100 meters of ascent.
It was lightly snowing, and you could see the wind and flags up top. The visibility was mostly quite poor. I navigated using the track on my phone. We passed the first col quite quickly, but the snow wasn't great on the descent, and with such limited visibility, the best skiing technique was to plow through.
Around noon, we started the ascent to Col del Tillicio (almost like in Nepal). At one point, we had to remove our skis because the eastern slope was completely dry. We gained altitude quickly, but the upper part of the climb in a long valley with little elevation gain also consumed time. Snowfall continued without breaks, and visibility was mostly absent. Near the actual pass, the slope became steep again, and we had to zigzag while balancing on icy crust. The last 100 meters involved carrying skis, ice axes, crampons – everything we love.
We started descending, initially steep with lots of fresh snow. Despite the lack of visibility, it was enjoyable in places. Soon, the steep slope ended, and we entered a flat glacier. We had to push and even climb with side stepping in some spots, but following the track, we eventually rolled into the main valley. We struggled downhill for a while, stumbling over snow-covered rocks until we reached a point where we said enough, put on our skins, and things got more fun. The valley had some snow, but only halfway passable. The second part was a canyon that we had to bypass on foot. So again, skis on our backs but at least without crampons and ice axes. Around 9 pm, we finally descended to Lillaz, where the owner of a local restaurant kindly agreed to drive us to the nearby valley where our car was parked. As usual, more than 12 hours of adventure with a gain of 1400 meters.
Summing up, I can add that this route is probably best done in spring when there's enough snow. Otherwise, it's a pity for the skis! Initially, I hoped that the cloud cover would ease up in the second half of the day, but even a slight veil of clouds, through which the sun seemed to be breaking through calmly, greatly hinders visibility.