Mont Collon traverse

Everybody else seemed to have decided what they were going to do next, and it was beginning to look like I would be left out. Miles and Aldous were still not entirely sure so I suggested that the 3 of us should attempt a traverse of Mont Collon via the North-North-East and West ridges, a route that could be seen from the camp site and one that looked tremendous from a distance. The grade sounded quite amenable going at a paltry AD+, but the length of the route was a substantial 800m of height gain. That plus the fact that the summit is over 3600m above sea level, and our arrival in Arolla from Cardiff being only 2 days ago should make for a challenging route. To my surprise the others agreed.

At sparrows fart the next morning we drove a couple of miles up the road and set off on foot at the first signs of daylight. The walk up the Lower Arolla Glacier started easily, progressing swiftly past the geological survey posts placed amongst the ice and moraine. A slog over scree to the track saw us on the last flat ground for several hours, and the interminable scree slope above lead to the base of our chosen route already 1.5 hours behind schedule. We had a serious discussion as to whether we should even start the climbing but thinking that retreat shouldn't be too hard over the lower sections we decided to suck it and see, Aldous bowing to the experience of Miles and myself.

Mont Collon as seen from Arolla, the route described is a traverse from the left skyline

Mont Collon as seen from Arolla, the route described is a traverse from the left skyline

Soloing behind each other we made quick progress over the first few hundred metres. Myles, naturally fitter than I can ever be, was out in front whilst I brought up the rear. The guidebook suggests climbing un-roped for a good deal of the route but following this advice was making me a little nervous. As we gained height it became clear that escape off this route would be difficult and dangerous, and the rock we had thought would improve with height was still little better than Weetabix. I suppose we should have guessed from the scree below but the desire to accomplish as many routes as possible in our short Alpine holiday had blinded us to the obvious. The drop below was becoming substantially larger than I am accustomed to when un-roped, and after several holds had snapped from beneath my fingers and toes, and from Miles and Aldous above, I was longing for the psychological comfort of a rope, and Aldous was understandably of a similar mind as this was his first trip to the Alps! Miles was less keen as he felt safer not to be attached to us, his reasoning also quite sound given the lack of good protection.

Had we not all sat down on a crumbly ledge mid way through the morning we may have continued as we were, but those few minutes rest had taken our focus off the climbing and scared us into roping-up. The ledge had been an unnerving place for me. I had never before felt scared during any of my alps trips, but I was starting to now while I nervously nibbled on biscuits, and I sensed a tingling sensation down the back of my neck as I sat staring down the 300 vertical metres to the valley below. This feeling would not diminish until my mind was occupied again with climbing and the imagined security of the rope. Miles reluctantly agreed to tie on and set off in the lead again.

The size of the ridge was vast, and the route less than obvious. We wandered this way and that, slowly gaining height by weaving deviously round great gendarmes, occasionally over them, always acutely aware of the time and how little the altimeter readings were changing. The nervousness, however, was gone and I was enjoying myself thoroughly, but little was spoken as I could rarely see Miles at the other end of the rope.

Perhaps 7 hours on the route had passed now, and the first real technical difficulties were arriving. Miles and I stopped so that Aldous could change in to rock shoes so he could move faster and with more confidence. It seemed an age waiting for him to attempt this whilst he sat astride the top of a gendarme, trying not to drop the shoes or his boots, and would have been quite comical had we not been so worried about the potential problems of lost footwear. The terrain became somewhat steeper now crossing the top of the North East Couloir, a few feet of soft snow leading behind yet another gendarme then along a spectacular ledge. Sat in the gap between the gendarme and the main face allowed spectacular views of Miles climbing up from the end of the ledge. It looked terrifying, and this atmosphere was exaggerated by occasional rock fall down the couloir next to me.

Following the others across the ledge it soon became clear that whilst the next section was steeper, it was also easier and much more solid. The climbing became more and more enjoyable, and the odd beam of sunlight from the summit gave us a spring in our step. The best climbing was short lived however, and we topped out about 9 hours after starting, just 4 hours over the guidebook time and still with a descent to consider.

Strapping crampons on and arming ourselves with axes and rope coils we set off over the undulating summit plateau. Miles and Aldous negotiated a couple of crevasses whilst I broke through the snow hiding them. Aldous looked a little perplexed when I vanished down the first one, not really knowing what to do. Fortunately I had not fallen far and was able to arrest myself as he looked on in amazement. Miles shouted at him to take in the slack which eventually he did, and I crawled my way back out. By the time I fell down the second crevasse Aldous had been adequately educated!

Aldous and Miles on the summit snow field

Aldous and Miles on the summit snow field

Soon we arrived at the descent down the West Ridge which although a similar grade, and shorter, looked significantly steeper. I suppose routes usually do from the top. We started the descent with a number of abseils and expected to be back on more amenable ground within 4 or 5 rope lengths. Leaving the abseiling behind we were soon down climbing, then scrambling our way down the ridge, Miles running off into the distance under the pretence of route finding whilst I coiled the ropes. Shortly, having found Miles almost at the bottom of the ridge, we all joined forces for a final abseil to the glacier below, glistening with the last orange rays of sun as it set behind the Pigne d'Arolla.

A lengthy walk across the rapidly darkening glacier brought us to the short ridge that separated the descent path from the Vignette hut. Miles is well known for his perversion for hut dwelling, and both Aldous and myself were easily persuaded that a further 3 hours walk would be too unpleasant to contemplate, so a quick stroll over to the Vignette concluded the day's exertions at about 23:00. A warm and understanding reception by the hut warden was unexpected but welcomely received, even if we were too late for any food, and the chat with a Japanese guest who had watched us from the hut as we crossed the summit was most gratifying.