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my life as a mountaineer
In the summer of the 50s, GO-style instructors would take us up and down the Oisans. They had to keep the kids busy. Wearing golf trousers and Pataugas, we’d trudge through pastures and woods, sometimes sleeping in barns, and accumulating images in our eyes and memories in our heads.
Years later, with my degree in hand, my childhood memories quickly caught up with me.
I was in Geneva, once again surrounded by mountains and bathed in an atmosphere that reminded me of my adventures of yesteryear. Geneva, home of Horace-Bénédicte de Saussure, considered the founder of mountaineering. Geneva and its Salève, on which a climbing route – the Grande Varappe – gave rise to the generic term « varappe ».
Caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life, I turned my dreams into reality by reading every book I could find on conquering the Alps.
Reading is all very well, but the lack of action was becoming increasingly pressing.
I swapped my golf trousers and pataugas for a more modern look, and set off walking in the surrounding Pre-Alps. The thing is, the higher you go, the more you want to go higher. But going higher on your own is scary. You have to find help. You need to find companions, and learn about the environment and techniques. But where and how?
And here I am, a member of the Geneva section of the Swiss Alpine Club.
The horizon widened considerably. My walks turned into mid-mountain races. I learnt to walk on all types of terrain. My first mountaineering tool – the ice axe – gave me a new status. I was timidly following in the footsteps of the great mountaineers. I was dreaming.
Not so much after all. With the knowledge and experience I’d acquired, some of the section’s race leaders agreed to let me join some of their more… risky’ expeditions. And here I am, wading in the snow, cramponing on the ice and using my four limbs to climb the rock. I’m proud to be carrying all this technical gear, which gives me the illusion of being one of those who know and dare.
If my ego swells, my heart and mind blossom more. Alpine nature, with its beautiful flowers, so fragile, and its animals, so touching and courageous, never ceases to amaze me. The effort of walking, the struggle against the elements, the evenings in the huts and the solidarity of the group all enrich me. What a joy… and what a drug.
It’s possible to do more. CAS offers courses and awards a race leader diploma. I enrol, pass and sew a superb badge on my anorak. Now I’m almost a mountain guide. I choose and organise races, I lead, I decide. But I’m also responsible; to the law, to others and to myself. So you put your ego aside and cultivate humility. It’s a great way to learn about life.From then on I did a series of climbs, mainly in the Swiss Alps. In the 90s, several expeditions and treks in the Himalayas introduced me to Nepal. A foray into Peru gave me the opportunity to climb a few peaks.
As we get older, the high peaks get further away and the lower ones tend to get higher. But the pleasure of climbing is as intense as ever. Mountaineering courses allow me to pass on what I’ve learnt and experienced and, in return, see the dreams of great ascents in the eyes of the participants.
I often walk in the mountains with my wife Marie. She has good feet and, above all, a good eye. Without her, many an ibex, chamois, ptarmigan, marmot and other fauna would have remained hidden from my view. Marie has courage too. Braving the snow to get to an empty hut, settling into the winter room, melting the snow and sleeping in 2-3 degree weather takes guts.
Thank you Marie for helping me build this site, and for agreeing to be my wife.
We live in St-Luc, in the Val d’Anniviers.
Thanks also to Augustin Rion, for teaching me to ski,
guiding me along some difficult routes and contributing,
as a mountain guide, to the content of this site.