Early Monday afternoon, my father and I made our way towards the Réfuge de Péclet-Polset - a modern high mountain dormitory with excellent amenities (it even had a shower!). The walk up was a long, leisurely hike through a green valley teeming with fat little marmots who seemed not at all afraid of people. My mother later theorized that these chubby rascals thrived off snacks tossed to them by generous hikers. She, herself, had fed one of them a dry fig on her way up to join us the next day.
Réfuge de Péclet-Polset.
We arrived at the refuge quite early, giving us leave to claim one of the nicer beds in the dormitory, by the window. Later, in the dining hall, we found a dresser containing tattered card games and a brand new Scrabble game, so we passed the time playing Scrabble in French (are there any French words with 'W'?). We noticed a group of Nepalese men dining at a separate table - the kitchen staff. These sherpas were in the Alps to train for big Himalayan expeditions, and had taken jobs at the refuge. Our own dinner soon followed; a simple meal of vegetable bouillon and lasagna, during which the two guides for our expedition arrived.
We were split into two groups, one of five, one of six, and each group was assigned a guide. Our guide, Bernard, explained that our room window needed to be left open for ventilation during the night; at this altitude, the carbon dioxide levels of a sealed room of 11 sleepers would make it impossible to sleep. The night would be a cold one.
The next day, we awoke at 4 am for a quick breakfast of cereal, bread, jam, and coffee. I was the first outside, so I sat and watched the stars twinkle in the early morning sky while waiting for the others. I was still too dazed and confused from the short night of sleep to fully appreciate the beauty of the nocturnal Alps, but later on it would begin to dawn on me. The guide finally walked out, and entrusted me with the ropes. It was time to go.
Just as we started walking, fog began to envelope us, leaving just a few stars visible in the dark and murky sky. The only thing we could see clearly was the rocky path beneath us, grayish blue in the light of our headlamps. Ahead of us, the headlamps of the other group could be made out as a swarm of small white lights. Somewhere up in the mountain, a Nepalese sherpa was jogging, as Bernard pointed out his headlamp moving swiftly along the top of a steep cliff.
Just as we started walking, fog began to envelope us, leaving just a few stars visible in the dark and murky sky. The only thing we could see clearly was the rocky path beneath us, grayish blue in the light of our headlamps. Ahead of us, the headlamps of the other group could be made out as a swarm of small white lights. Somewhere up in the mountain, a Nepalese sherpa was jogging, as Bernard pointed out his headlamp moving swiftly along the top of a steep cliff.
Soon, the "Big Lamp" - as our guide poetically named it - began to manifest itself in the East. It would not be long before we would be able to turn ours off. The eastern sky turned a pale shade of grey, and the dark silhouettes of distant mountains painted themselves along the horizon. Visibility was still poor though, and we were all surprised when a rock that Bernard threw thirty feet away landed with a resounding splash - we were walking alongside a large lake, the Lac Blanc.
The eastern sky shifted to yellow, and now glaciers were readily visible on all of the surrounding peaks. They were grey in the dark, but the sunlight began to reveal their brilliant whiteness - they had recently been powdered by fresh snow. Bernard pointed out several lakes that had formed too recently to have names; the sad fruit of glacier melt. He explained that fifty years from now, the glaciers would all be gone. In one crystalline pond, I could see the pretty reflection of a glacier. It was a stunning, if poetic sight - the glacier staring at its reflection in the remnants of what it once was.
At the foot of the glacier, a little melt lake
Day was finally dawning as we walked along a moraine. In the East, fluffy clouds turned a pale pink. Bernard showed us some sprigs of génépi, used to flavor the strong Alpine liquor of the same name. Staring down from the moraine, we saw that the Lac Blanc and the valley below were shrouded with milky clouds. We had walked above the fog, and the mountains around us were now all clearly visible. From the forbidding grey rocks we marched on, up to the jagged snowy peaks that surrounded us, it was a breathtaking sight to behold. We were truly in the theater of the gods.
The Theater of the Gods!
Soon, we arrived at the glacier we were set to walk on. There was a sudden chill in the air, as the air had been cooled by the icy expanse before us. We wrapped ourselves in our warmest clothes, put on our crampons, and roped ourselves up. Bernard designated me as rope leader of half of the group, while he would lead the other half. Then, off we went.
The group ahead of us walking up the glacier
Our guide took us on a less conventional path up the glacier, with gaping crevasses to cross and steep slopes to climb. It was an exciting ascent, fraught with challenges. We were in a more secluded part of the glacier, surrounded by cliffs and peaceful solitude. Our guide pointed out menacing seracs overhanging the glacier, threatening to crash down at any moment. It was certainly a much more exhilarating experience than to climb up the boring boulevard that is typically taken, but it was exhausting.
Crevasse!
At 9:30 AM, we arrived at the summit, slightly later than the other group, and my father and I enjoyed a feast of boiled eggs, gherkins, bread, and dry sausage. The world below us was covered in clouds, which was truly a shame, as we could not admire the beautiful views. In the distance, the Mont Blanc peeked out of the sea of fog, a brilliant white-blue lump of snow, ice, and rock.
The Mont Blanc viewed from the summit
As we made our way down, exhaustion settled in. Step after step, I clambered down the glacier, too tired to make much sense of what was happening. Our guide explained to us how snow bridges formed, and how mountain guides kept track of glacier motion using colorful sticks, but my mind was wandering too much to really listen.
Eventually, the Lac Blanc came into view again, a stunning turquoise blue expanse. We took our ropes off, and the group split up. The view before us was beautiful and colorful, as the clouds had cleared up and we could see the valley stretching into the distance. On the other side of the lake, we met with my mother, who had walked up to join us. And finally, at 12:15 PM, we were back at the refuge, where we enjoyed a delicious lunch of cheese, potato, and bacon omelet.
The Lac Blanc
It had been a truly amazing experience, and while too exhausted to fully appreciate it then, I now look back at it with pride and joy. My fourth "course glacière," had maybe not been quite as tiring as the first three, but it was certainly just as incredible of a hike.
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