Is ice season over already? Getting drippy in Cogne, Italy

I guided a couple days in Cogne, Italy for Dream Guides over the weekend. Cogne is the center of Alps ice climbing in this region. Chamonix has a lot of ice, but it's much more dependent on good conditions.

While in Cogne during this mid-winter heat wave, we watched some routes start to fall apart for the season. The cascade du lillaz was climbable four days ago. Today it's gone (the Goulotte de Lillaz will be good for a few more weeks).

On the final day of our three-day course I took my two guests to Patri (WI4) and Acheronte (WI3)- they're almost always in condition - and almost always crowded. It takes 1.5 hours of flat walking to get to the base of the routes. 

Patri was in great shape, and with a little flexibility, it was easy to avoid falling ice from parties above. There are lots of ledges and lots of snow piles to capture falling shards. One can never be too cautious though.

Patri. A guy in yellow can be seen leading the final WI4 pitch at top left. The right finish of Patri (WI5) is in good shape, still. A bit drippy right now though. The next day, I went back to Cogne with Geoff Unger. We wanted to climb Stella Artice (WI5) but the bottom looked too warm, wet, and rotten. So we climbed Cold Couloir (WI4) instead. How Ironic, nowhere on the route were we cold. We were obliged to pass a team of friendly (but slow) Brits on the second pitch, as we wanted to top the thing out, and that involves about 700-900 meters of ascent through 7-8 pitches of ice and a lot of snow slogging at the top. The descent was trickier than we though. I'd like to bring my paraglider next time to save my knees.

Stella Artice could be out for the season unless it gets colder soon. Geoff Unger passing the British team on pitch 2 of Cold CouloirGeoff on top of the last pitch we roped up for - 600 meters above the valley bottomUpon finishing the route, one must still go up, up, up...

Basically the best beta is to veer up and right after the ice ends, keep traversing, looking for a ridge of snow/rock/grass that descends back down to the valley bottom below you. Follow goat trails down exposed grassy ledges when you can, and the terrain will funnel you into a snow gully with two pitches of ice (rap with v-threads) at the bottom. Then a flat walk takes you back to your car.

The Ortler: finding fresh powder in a dry season

Joe and I just returned to Sulden last night with our crew of seven (Dave, Scotty, Dianne, Melissa, Mike, Don, and Jim) from Eastern Washington.

We spent seven days out skiing powder, and six nights sleeping in fairly posh Italian huts. Showers at each hut helped us stay fresh and relatively BO-free.

In a season where the alps have only had about three powder dumps since New Years,  we managed fresh tracks every day. The Ortler ski terrain is vast, but in traditional eastern-alps fashion, most skiers wiggle down existing tracks, rather than making their own, thus leaving hectares of un-tracked snow on the margines, in the couloirs, and generally off the beaten path.

We did our best to poach the best lines, but there's still a lot of ski terrain out there that we didn't ski, and a lot of summits to ski from. I'll be back.

On Day 1, we skied from the Sulden lift systems, over the Passo dei Madriccio, and down the Zufalhütte for Cappuccinos. Then we toured up to the Martellerhütte for two nights.

Our worst weather of the trip: overcast skies on a cool tour up to the Martellerhütte. At the Martellerhütte, Peter pours a great draft beer.

On Day 2 we toured up to the Cime Marmotta (3330m) and the Cime di Venezia (3356m). Occasional fog banks made the light flat, and the skiing interesting.

On Day 3 we toured to the summit of the Cevedale (3757m) only a couple hundred meters shy of 4000m. We skied down to the Branca hut, for infinite vino Rosso and pasta.

CevedaleJoe setting track with Jim, Dave, Dianne, Melissa, and Mike following. Melissa on the Cevedale summit. Jim and I decided to "make zee freeride" from near the Cevedale summit. The Cedec glacier had some of the only tracks we crossed all week. Refugio Branca - bring your appetite!

On Day 4, we toured from the Branca, and hardly crossed a set of ski tracks. Most of the local traffic were intent on skiing the crust on Cerro Tresero and San Mateo.

Don, Dianne, Melissa, and Mike following the skin track up to the Meneghello Bivi hut. The Meneghello Bivy hut - a great place to enjoy your salsiccia and formaggio. Jim, Don, and Scotty followed me down steep, fresh, powder below Monte Giumella (3594m). Mike making fresh tracks down the lower Forni Glacier.

Buon Appetito! Mike, Scotty, Dianne, Jim, and Don await the primo piatto.

On Day 5, we moved to the opposite (north) side of Monte Pasquale (3553m), and skied an excellent couloir straight to pizza and beer at the Pizzini hut.   I had noticed the couloir leading down off of Pasquale's western shoulder several days before. It ended up being one of the most enjoyable descents all week. 40° powder shots in a wide, untracked couloir. It made the beer taste great.

Mike, Scotty, and Jim following me down the mystery couloir.

(L-R) Jim, Mike, Scotty, and I below our Pasquale descent couloir. The couloir starts at the col straight above Scotty's head and continues down past his right shoulder. Day 6: One day of semi-restful spring skiing on the North Facing slopes of Cima Dei Forni. Then a corn run return back to the Pizzini!

Dave Stock follows his son Joe down the north facing powder of Cime dei Forni. Vintage barbed wire from the great wars decorates the trail sign at Passi ZebruInstead of telemarking, Scotty borrowed his wife Dianne's dynafit gear today for his first day of fixed-heel freedom. I think he was hooked.

Day 7 - on our final day we skied to the Casati hut for obligatory cappuccino and strudel, before re-entering the german-speaking Sud-Tirol side of the range for one more steep ski descent into Sulden.

We picked up som stragglers at the Casati. Gregor and Erica, from Tahoe. Erica was en route to Sulden and so accompanied us on our last run. Jim on our last descent, skirting the seracs below the Corno di Sulda.

Smiles from Erica and Jim - great ending to a tour!

Ski touring the Ortler Circuit.

Joe Stock and I just made a painful, 8-hour drive from Chamonix to Sulden, Italy. Good luck finding it on a map. It's a tiny little village about an hour and a half drive from Bolzano, and it's located on the edge of Stelvio National Park, Italy. However, even though we're in Italy, german is the most common laguage spoken.

 The village of Sulden, Italy, with the peak of Ortler in the background.

I'm here to help Joe guide a 7 day Ortler circuit. The terrain is spectacular, the crowds are non-existant, and the snow is a lot deeper than in Chamonix. And the best part is, the hospitality is Italian, the huts are luxurious, and the coffee is plentiful.

 We are very excited.

Joe clicking into his skis on our recon day.  

The Rockfall incident

Getting chased by boulders -  a la Indian Jones in the cave at the start of Raiders of the Lost Ark - was probably the most memorable event of the summer for me. So I figure it is worth writing it down, even though it happend a while ago, on August 25th. 

I was guiding the last three days of a Mt Blanc week for Mont Blanc Guides. Some images from the earlier part of that week:

My fellow guide Thierry, and some of the chemicals that keep him going...

Our group enjoying dinner in the Albert Premiere hut.

The original Albert Premiere (still used). The newer hut is out of view up and to the left.

Some of our group picked up a bright and shining orb that they found lying on the ground

Hiking down to La Tour from the Albert Premiere hut..

 My client, Iain, and I decided to head to the Grand Paradiso, in Italy, to finish off the week since the terrain was more attractive to Iain. And we had a lot of espresso to drink. My friend Natasha was visiting, and hitched a ride with us through the Mt Blanc Tunnel into Italy's Aoste Valley, and up the Valsaverenche to the car park below the Grand Paradiso. She planned on doing a trail run between the two huts - the Chabod, and the Vittorio Emmanuel - on the day that Iain and I planned to climb the mountain. 

First off it is worth mentioning that the Vittorio Emmanuel is one of the most liked huts in the alps. Friendly staff, beautiful setting, and incredible food (for a hut) all make it attractive. It is far more affordable than most French huts, but more comfortable as well. And the Guardian there speaks spanish, so I can actually communicate with him. 
The Vittorio Emmanuel Hut below the Grand Paradiso

We checked in on our first day, and had the typical four-course Italian dinner. We slept in small, private rooms, instead of the huge dorm-style rooms common in most huts. Iain and I woke at 4am and began the trudge to the summit. The route goes up a lot of talus first, before it meets some relatively steep snow and ice. We roped up at that point, and moved together up the glacier as the sun rose. Mt Blanc - off in the distance, was smothered in storm clouds. The southern French alps - to our west -were also covered. Eventually clouds moved in and we walked through fog and snow to the summit ridge. Iain was pleased to see the lady Madonna on the summit. We snapped some photos, and began the welcome descent.

Storm clouds approaching over the French/Italian border during our climb

Iain on the summit: "You mean you woke me up at 4:00am to walk five hours up this glacier and THIS is the view I get?"

The clouds had cleared once we reached the end of the glacier, and we had a fairly sunny walk back towards the hut. 

About 200m from the hut, I heard a small rockfall coming off the cliff above us. I pulled my camera out and aimed it at the sound. Just as I brought the camera up to my eye, a large piece of the cliff came off in a tremendous roar. I snapped away for a few frames, astonished at the size of the boulder that was rolling down the slope. After a moment, it appeared that the boulder was rolling more or less towards Iain and I. We backed up slowly, and sidestepped a bit of talus, keeping our eye on the boulder bearing down in our direction. It launched about 30m airborne over a moraine uphill of us (and the hut) and its new trajectory seemed to take it on a path directly towards the hut. It was moving quickly. Maybe 60-120km/hr or so but it was hard to tell. We were shocked, it seemed we were about to watch a large cubic boulder (10-15m on a side) steam-roll our hut. It stopped about 70m from the uphill side of the hut (only about 30m from the original - but now empty - V. Emmanuel hut). We were flabbergasted. 

The first seconds of the rock fall.

A second later, the large boulder appears...

And keeps moving...

And  moving...

A close up of the carnage.

And the boulder keeps rolling down the moraine. At at about this time we were convinced the boulder wasn't rolling towards us as much as it was rolling towards the hut. 

The boulder decelerates before coming to rest about 30 meters from the old V. Emmanuel hut. 

As the dust cloud settled, we walked back over to the hut - where everyone was outside looking at the boulder. It reminded me of the black monolith from 2001: a space odyssey - except for it was white - and bigger. 

And there it is (a person is visible walking towards it). Bring your rock shoes if you go there. There could be some good, new problems to do.

The crowd at the hut checking out the spectacle.

I think we all figured that the rockfall we had just witnessed was about as big as a rockfall often gets. But you  can never forget when you are in the mountains, that all those rocks around you, those boulders lining the trails, making good bivi shelters, etc... They had to get there somehow. We just happened to witness nature-in-action.

Iain and I started drinking beer to calm our nerves and to celebrate our climb. Natasha arrived, after having run back from the Chabot hut. She had seen the dust cloud from the trail, and had felt the earth tremble as the rocks came down. She was sure that the hut (and us) would be buried in rubble. Happily reunited, we enjoyed omelettes and pie, and killed time until dinner. 

We took a nap for a little bit (or at least tried to). It seemed like every 20 minutes or so another (smaller) rockfall would come down. We would inevitably run to the window to look out, and so would every other guest on that side of the hut. It was almost comical. 
Our view from the hut window, as another small rockfall comes down.

Natasha strolls over to check out the new boulder.

By this point a helicopter had been flying around, surveying the rockfall and the cliff it began from, and occasionally landing at the hut to discuss details with the guardian. 

Mt. Rescue personnel attempting to charm the ladies of the hut. The woman on the left is one of the cooks. She ended up injuring her hand while running from the second big rockfall. 

Natasha wondering just what the hell is going to happen later in the afternoon - after her first night ever spent in a European hut. 

No suggestion of evacuation or early departure was made. It seemed we were all comfortable hanging out there for the time being. 

About an hour before dinner, most of us were back outside drinking beer and enjoying the afternoon. The helicopter had made a few more trips. But no public address was made. Some people were nervous enough to start packing up. Many of us felt that the hut, built on the top of a small moraine, was reasonably protected from rockfall. 

The helicopter returned to the hut, and had just set down on the heli-pad, when I heard everyone scream. About 60 people started running in panic down hill. The helicopter immediately powered up and climbed safely away from us. Natasha and I couldn't see around the building what they were looking at. We stepped out a little and saw a cloud of rocks and dust much bigger than the first rockfall bearing down on us. We both slithered underneath a wire railing, dropped off a stone wall, and began running down the tundra in our hut clogs. I stopped occasionally and to snap a photo or two and to see where Natasha was. I wasn't sure what I was thinking. The heard instinct made me want to run with everyone else but I started to realize that running downhill was never going to help anyone of us. We'd be outrun if the rockfall was big enough. I started planning which direction to run sideways as the noise of the rockfall began to subside, and the screams died down. 
We all looked up at the carnage. An enormous chunk of cliff had come down. Maybe a little under 30m (100 feet) tall, by 15-20m wide, and an unknown amount deep.  A boulder even bigger than the one lying near the hut had fortunately been deflected by the moraine in another (safer) direction. We all breathed a sigh of relief and walked back to the hut. 

The crowd runs from the hut during the second rock fall

At this point the crowed was on edge. We were all booked into the hut for the night, dinner would be served in 20 minutes (but one cook broke her hand in the talus during the Melee and was helicoptered off immediatley) but we were all wondering if the Guardian would end up telling us to evacuate. Some were taking it upon themselves to pack up and leave, but with darkness soon approaching, most were a bit unsure as to what to do . 

We all ended up sitting down for dinner when it was called, but it was a quiet, uneasy dinner. 
We were served soup and wine - which didn't do much to cheer anyone - when the helicopter landed again. Several men dressed in mountain rescue uniforms walked into the dining area and informed us (in Italian) that the hut was being evacuated, and the helicopter would be available to anyone who needed a lift down to the car park (a two and a half hour walk away). 

The three of us, Natasha, Iain, and I, had our gear packed in a matter of minutes. I paid the guardian and wished him luck. We waited outside as dusk set in, and in only a few minutes, a helicopter landed at our feet. It was Natasha's first flight, my dozenth or so, and Iain had spent time in helicopters as well. What an ominous reason though...

Our ride arrives...

This sure beats getting buried in rubble in your sleep!

Iain was thrilled: a 2.5-hour knee-pounding descent turns into a five-minute helicopter flight. 

Natasha hops out of the Mountain Limo - about 100 feet from our car. What service...

It took five minutes or less for the whirly-bird to take us down to the car park in Pont, and set us down just 100m from my car.  An hour later, we were eating pizza and drinking espressos to calm our nerves in a quiet little cafe down-valley from Courmayer. By midnight, we had returned to Chamonix.