First Alpine Route: Gran Paradiso

by Harvey Lomas

In the summer of 1974 I was asked whether I would like a mountaineering holiday in place of my usual caving expedition. So, along with Glyn Edwards, Peter Standing and Audrey Lamb I went out to the Alps. We met in Chamonix, arriving by various routes, in my case by French rail, sleeping on top of my gear in the corridor of the train.]

Glyn and Peter wanted to do some routes on Mont Blanc, particularly the Old Brenva and we spent several days camping on the Col du Geant. But the weather deteriorated and drove us down to the Gran Paradiso, some 25 miles down the Val d’Aosta. We pitched camp at the foot of a valley leading up into the Gran Paradiso. The peaks rise to about 12,000 ft. and have some splendid middle grade routes which my two expert companions seemed to think suitable for my initiation. They selected Mummery’s Route, an A.D. which follows the South-West ridge of the Torre del Gran San Pietro from the Calle di Money.

The day after our arrival the four of us, in the late afternoon walked up to the Money Bivouac Hut at an altitude of 2,872 m. It was very pleasant and enjoyable walking through the wooded Valmontey Valley, circumnavigating giant boulders, beside an emerald green stream flowing down from the glacier. The Valmontey is a blind valley with the Gran Paradiso peak at its head, but we cut off left up a steep zig-zag path for about 2,000 ft. It was a hot day and the going was steady until the Chalets du Money allowed a snack and a short rest. By now the whole of the Gran Paradiso had come into perspective. Again the path followed a steep moraine bank—just a slow methodical plod, with an occasional view high above of a little yellow speck which was the Bivacco Money.

The hut was situated on a large grassy ledge below a rock pass. It had eight bunks and plenty of room to move about and getting water necessitated an exposed snow traverse across to a gully. Later a party of Italians arrived, which made things a little uncomfortable, though they were pleasant company. In the evening low banks of cloud drifted in obscuring the fine view. Plans were made and gear carefully sorted out for the early start in the morning.

So—rny first Alpine route in the morning I thought to myself—no more talking or reading about it, young man! I could hardly sleep for apprehension, waiting for the alarm bell at 03.30 hours. Bodies rose, feet and arms in motion. But Peter opened the door and snow came blowing straight into the hut. We all reversed our movements, getting back into our sleeping bags. We went down to the valley because we didn’t have enough food for a longer stay, leaving our equipment at the Money Bivouac. The route back followed the moraine bank down to what we thought just small “scrub.” The whole Valmontey valley teemed with steinbocks and chamois. When we reached the small “scrub” it was about twelve feet high in the form of dense thickets with long malleable branches which curved around the feet and the more one struggled the more one became entwined like a fly in a spider’s web.

We returned to the Money bivouac after two days, with more food. The walk up seemed a lot easier and was done a lot faster. Having established ourselves we watched with apprehension a party of four climbers coming up the path, followed by a party of two, followed shortly afterwards by a party of six. At 03.30 hours a phenomenal number of arms, legs and bodies seemed to be moving around. I went outside into that early morning silence that prevails among mountains with the breezes whispering below. The sky was a clear lake of stars and our little world was set in motion: the murmuring of the stove as sacks were packed and soon the three of us were plodding up the first snow slope to the Money Glacier. As we walked across the Glacier the sun rose turning the sky to azure with puffs and lines of violet cloud. The south-west ridge of the Torre del Gran San Pietro stood serene across the wide deserted glacier. Soon we reached the climb on to the ridge: according to Glyn “just a snow slope and a bit of scrambling.” I followed up the slope and was dragged up a chimney with only frozen boulders for holds. I was given to understand that I had to get used to conditions like this.

In a fresh breeze and a fine situation we moved along the ridge, with the occasional snow traverse from one rock pyramid to the next, sometimes in mist, all the time gaining height.
 
We roped up, with me in the middle, and moved fairly quickly. There were fine views southward over the northern plain of Italy to the big cities of Turin and Genoa, and northward to the great Alpine chain and the somnolent bulk of Mont Blanc. Spells of rock-climbing and snow plodding alternated until we reached the summit which at the time was in cloud.

We chose a well-worn route down, on the south side of the ridge. My faith in the two veteran Alpinists was put to the test when, with me in the middle like a Yo-yo they began to argue and to consult the guidebook as to which way we should go. Eventually they chose a route back to the ridge up a loose chimney and over leaves of rock which were peeling away. I was relieved when the Money Glacier lay in front of us at the bottom of a wide snow gully. In the morning the going had been relatively easy but coming back we were sometimes knee deep in snow, and I understood that this was something else I should get used to. Crossing crevasses also proved a little more difficult.

When we returned to the hut the Italians were still there, chatting away and making preparations for returning to the valley. Evening came and sunlight warmed the rocks. We all sat outside and viewed the Valmontey with its surrounding mountains and the glaciers slipping sublimely into the valley below.