I sit tensely in the back seat of the car on the way to Chamonix. The goal is to climb the 4.810-meter Mont Blanc via the Cosmique route. I’ve never been above 4.000 meters before. Lost in thought, I look out the window, counting the cars as they pass. How will my body react to the altitude? Can I even do this? Am I perhaps taking on too much after all? I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I feel a little sick.
“Acclimatization is everything”
“Of course, we can’t just stroll straight up Mont Blanc,” the mountain guide announces the following day. First, there’s an acclimatization climb. Maybe even two. At least that gives me time. Time to think about whether I really have to go for the summit. The goal of the acclimatization climb is Mont Blanc du Tacul (4.248 m). Later, we’ll pass it on the ascent route to Mont Blanc. So if I fail here, I’ll know the White Mountain isn’t for me.
In the mountains, everyone becomes an early riser
I’ve always rejected that saying about the early bird and the worm. But whenever I’m on a trip, it becomes the routine. In the mountains, everyone becomes an early riser. The alarm goes off shortly before 5:00. At precisely 5:00, we’re already sitting at the breakfast table, and at 6:00 we’re ready to set off outside the Refuge des Cosmiques. The first rays of sunlight are already peeking out from behind the surrounding peaks, setting the icy mountainsides aglow. Unfortunately, only in appearance. The air is bitterly cold.
Air! Where’s the air?!
I feel comfortable on the flat. In good spirits, we stroll toward the steep mountainside. And then come the first steps uphill. The smile is swept from my face as quickly as the air from my lungs. I gasp for breath. The mountain guide marches cheerfully ahead of us while I struggle to keep up, breathing heavily. If we weren’t roped together, I would have fallen behind long ago. Is the altitude really affecting me this much? Or do I already have to admit that I’m unfit?
Enormous crevasses block the way
In tortoise mode, I inch my way forward. Until we find ourselves standing in front of an enormous crevasse. Only a ladder allows us to cross the gap in the ice. Held in place by ropes, the ladder sways and creaks ominously as I climb its nearly 15 rungs. My crampons clink against the hard metal with every step. At the top, I let go of the helpful rungs and hold on for the last few steps with my ice axe, driving it into the ice ahead of me.
Rock climbing in crampons
There are two more crevasses to cross. Snow bridges span both of them. One at a time and with great care, we cross each bridge under the watchful eyes of the rest of the rope team. Otherwise, the route continues steeply upward. My lungs grow accustomed to the exertion. It only gets tough again shortly before the summit. Then some easy rock climbing awaits us. We keep our crampons on and climb the final meters to the highest point. And then … then we’re at the top!
My first 4.000-meter peak
I breathe a sigh of relief. Here I am. On my first 4.000-meter peak. Behind us, the mighty Mont Blanc rises proudly, reminding me that when we stand on it the next day, we’ll have another 900 meters of elevation to overcome. The mountain guide gives me an encouraging nod, a high five, and congratulates me on reaching the summit. I push aside my worries about the next day and return to the present. I grin and savor the moment.