The Pyramide du Tacul

Matt on the summit, with the Petit and Grand Capucin in the background. Photo by Silas Rossi.

Previous trip reports from Chamonix:  Dent du Géant and Via Corda Alpina

The East Face of Mont Blanc du Tacul is one of the most spectacular mountain walls in the world, a forest of granite spires, pillars, and icy gullies. Here, peaks which would be giants elsewhere can almost disappear amongst their giant neighbors, until you’re standing under them, looking up at 800 feet of pristine granite. For my last day of climbing in Chamonix, we were hoping to climb the East Arête of the Pyramide du Tacul (AD+, 5a), one of the so-called Tacul satellites.

Mont Blanc du Tacul and the Tacul Satellites, from September 2016. The Pyramide du Tacul is at the lower right, but hard to pick out. 

The Pyramide du Tacul in the foreground.

This time we’re starting from the Aiguille du Midi, and I’m nervous as soon as I learn that, as it means walking off the infamous ridge.  We meet at 6:15am and end up in the second bin. Silas offers the choice of a 9-hour day to do the Pyramide du Tacul, or a shorter day trying the harder but shorter Eperon des Cosmiques. I’ve wanted to do the Pyramide for a while, so opted for the longer day. Twenty minutes after leaving town, we’re at 3700 meters; I need to visit the toilets. The accumulated anxiety about the day reaches its peak, but I don’t want to give up. So it’s on with crampons, through the ice tunnel, an awkward climb over the gate, and we step off the edge of the world.

First steps. Photo by Matt Shove.

Photo by Matt Shove. 

Photo by Matt Shove. 

Much to my surprise, it’s not so bad. I’d walked the plank twice in 2014, and since then I’ve had much more snow and ice climbing experience. But it also felt easier—not quite as narrow, better steps. I can do this! Soon we’re on the glacier, and ready to walk down to our route.

Heading towards Mont Blanc du Tacul. Photo by Matt Shove.

Photo by Matt Shove. 

We reach the base of the Pyramide in slightly more than an hour. We step off the snow (easily; not always true!) and scramble up to some ledges, and turn ourselves into rock climbers. Off with the boots, on with the rock shoes. Crampons and ice axes are left behing, along with a reserve of water. The gloves come off, as it’s a beautiful day and we’ll be in the sun.

Luckily we had an easy time getting on the rock.

Gearing up

And, much to my surprise, I achieve one of my life goals. I’m on a climb where Silas actually puts on rock shoes instead of climbing in approach shoes. Of course, it doesn’t really count, as he’s on-sight guiding an 800-foot rock climb at high altitude. Oh, and it’s Matt’s birthday! The psyche is high.

Alpine rock climbing is an interval workout. Matt and I wait as Silas leads a pitch, but the very instant we’re on belay we climb as fast as we can. Alpine Climbing is the most intense activity I know. Every second counts. Matt encourages me to climb rather than think. I try.

The rock is magnificent, as is the setting. We see the Dent du Géant on the skyline, I will never quite believe that I climbed *that.* We meet our new friend Sylvain, from Paris, who is also being guided up this climb. This is the mountains, this is France, we don’t wait. But everyone gets along.

I climbed that!

Photo by Matt Shove.

The climbing is brilliant. Great rock, fun movement, challenging but not impossible. Halfway up we weave through what feel like overhanging teeth, with liebacking and underclinging.

First crux

The belay is on a slab near the crest of the ridge; we watch Sylvain struggle with the steep crack, but he eventually finds the big hold.

Comfy belay ledge. Photo by Silas Rossi. 

Sylvain climbs the crack

Silas traverses over to the crack and flies up the rock, we take pictures.

Silas starts up

Rock climbing is fun

This is my favorite pitch. There’s a widish crack to start, I seem to remember a fist jam help to reach the big flake. Then I step around the ridge. The cliche is to say the exposure is breathtaking, but it’s true. Think of the pipe pitch on Whitney-Gilman, but everything ten times larger and covered with glaciers. There’s a thin crack to the left, but I can’t figure out how to climb it. Too narrow for hands, fingers just skate, what to do? Ah, there’s a slight edge, maybe I can layback? Yes! It works—really fun. I shout up to Silas that I can’t believe I did it!


The terrain eases off a bit, Matt takes the lead, I start to understand why so many descriptions of Chamonix climbing describe “cracked slabs.”

Barefoot

Almost having fun! Photo by Silas Rossi. 

Photo by Silas Rossi.

Photo by Matt Shove.

Photo by Silas Rossi.

Proof I’m the world’s least photogenic person. Photo by Silas Rossi. 

Photo by Silas Rossi.

 Soon enough, we’re running out of mountain. our world gets narrower and narrower, and then we run out of rock. And yes, the summit is a perfect pyramid, the rock tapering to a literal point, suspended amidst the giant pillars and pinnacles of Mont Blanc du Tacul. I nervously palm the edge up to the top, but it seems much better to straddle the rock rather than try to stand up.

Behind us is the Drus, the Aiguille Verte, Les Droites, and Les Courtes. Photo by Matt Shove. 

To the summit. Photo by Matt Shove.

On the summit, surrounded by even bigger spires. Photo by Silas Rossi. 

Photo by Matt Shove. 

Photo by Matt Shove. 

Matt chillin’ on his birthday

Time to go down. We downclimb the last section to reach the first rappel anchors. Once again we have a long, complex series of rappels. Once again I struggle, not navigating well, not feeling the fall line, transitioning awkwardly from rapelling to standing. Silas urges me to stand up and somehow I can’t.

I get lowered down the last section due to loose rock. Back at the base, it’s a relief to take off the rock shoes. I have quite a blister on my heel. Boots on ,crampons on, and then we have to scramble back to the snow and I totally screw it up. There’s a little fixed rope with knots; I’m trying to hold my trekking pole, I totally flail and scratch my way down. It’s a bit of a relief to be on the snow.

Photo by Matt Shove.

Silas wants to climb everything he sees

The Dent du Géant

Matt on the Glacier du Géant

Looking back to where we climbed. The Pyramide du Tacul is the lowest tower in the foreground. 

It’s all uphill.

Silas the Alpine Hero.

And then it’s a matter of grinding it out. I’m tired. After a short descent it’s uphill all the way home. It’s hot. And there’s no letting up. I focus on every step. Things work much better if I step exactly in Matt’s footprints. And I know the last bit will be the hardest, up the narrow ridge back to the Aiguille du Midi. Matt and Silas tell me things will be fine if I just do everything perfectly. So that becomes my focus. Step, step, step. Step, step, step. The mist settles over us, which is just as well as I only want to focus on my feet. Step, step, step. Silas takes my ice ax and gives me a second trekking pole. Step, step, step. Not long now. Finally the world widens and flattens; we’re at the entrance to the ice cave. One last crux—climbing over the gate while wearing crampons. At this too I flail. But then we’re in the tunnel. I have tears of relief in my eyes. Off with the crampons. But we are still racing, still focused, we aren’t in town yet. As we cross the bridge, a kindly Chamonix-Mont Blac employee gives us passes to cut the line for the cable car—I guess climbers are still good for business. We force our way through the crowds. We don’t quite make the next bin, but soon enough we’re pressed against the dirty, scratched glass, staring at the Frendo and Papillons, and then we’re walking through city streets in search of cold liquids and food. Things change so fast, wildness pressed up against civilization. What a gift to go back and forth between worlds.

It felt good to eat and relax. But what happened to my hair?