September 28, 2023. As the autumn winds gradually envelop the Alps, I set out to conquer their highest peaks. It's my final journey to the edge of our world, before the mountains once again don their crystalline robes. Just as the Indian summer promises us the scents of past fine days, the Täschhorn and the Dom des Mischabel now seem to be inviting me to their summit. And I'm very lucky to be able to join them at this time of year. On the borders of the Zermatt and Saas Fee Fee valleys, I'm off on an adventure with my guide, Nicolas Vuadens, with whom I climbed the Dent Blanche and the Weisshorn via its northern ridge the previous year.
From Täschalp to Mischabeljochbiwak | From the Zermatt valley to the high mountains
Our journey begins at the bottom of the green Täschalp valley. To reach the Mischabeljoch bivouac, we climb up through the alpine meadows. Like a velvet curtain opening on the stage, the mountainsides suddenly reveal a breathtaking view of the Matterhorn, decked out for the occasion in its winter garb. A striking contrast that both contrasts and unites the prodigious brilliance of the bleached peaks and the cold austerity of the dry slopes.
South of the Täschhorn, over steep rock faces, we reach the Weingarten glacier, which has been completely exposed by the long summer months. We put on our crampons, indispensable for this kind of run, to criss-cross the fast-moving ice. Ahead of me, Nicolas sets out to find our route through the impressive crevasses of the frozen river. As we walk, our eyes marvel at the lunar landscape that surrounds us. A celestial monochrome of gray, white and blue, drawing our deepest truths in the air. A little higher up, we redouble our caution, as the snow here has not melted and conceals crevasses that we must avoid.
Suddenly, above us, the Mischabel bivouac appears, clinging to the mountain in the hollow of the Täschhorn andAlphubel. Just when I thought our arrival was imminent, I realize that access to the hut is now a challenge. Climate change has beaten us to it, reducing the glacier that used to guide us on a royal route to the Mischabeljochbiwak to nothing. To reach it today, we're forced to climb a steep wall of sharp ice. The Alps are changing at breakneck speed.
After two seasons of mountaineering, my crampons are getting dull and I'm wobbly on the ice. So Nicolas helps me over the last hurdles and we finally arrive at the hut, tired but happy. Like an eagle's wings protecting its most precious treasure, the mountain shelters this astonishing refuge between its flanks. Perched at an altitude of 3855 metres, it offers us a chance to tackle the mountain without a tedious approach. And I love the idea of quickly coming face to face with the Täschhorn ridge and its vigorous rock.
The Mischabeljoch bivouac | At the gateway to the Täschhorn
I enter the refuge, curious to discover its atmosphere. It's a wild place, and few mountaineers venture here at this time of year. I love these unguarded bivouacs, where you find yourself left to your own devices for a few hours. Where the essential becomes primordial once again, restoring life to its original brilliance. To survive, we have to gather snow, light the fire and boil it. Prepare soup and pasta, and bring water for the next day. Like two adventurers exploring unknown lands, we subsist as if at the dawn of time. And it's in the simplicity of our breathing, our gestures and our laughter that our lives take on their full meaning.
Along the ridge of the Täschhorn, Nicolas does a final scouting before nightfall, as it's easy to get lost on this pile of rocks. Indeed, the wall looks quite crumbling, and I'm surprised by its appearance, wondering how such a valiant and gigantic mountain seen from the valley can look so crumbling when you get close to it. But nature sometimes holds many surprises, and the Täschhorn may well reveal itself to be quite different on its opposite flank. As I wait to climb its crests, I gaze in admiration at the splendour of the landscape before us this evening. The blazing, serene sun greets us before disappearing over the horizon, sublimating the grandiose contours of the Imperial Crown of Zinal and the Matterhorn like shadow puppets in a fabulous show. Sheltered by the mountains, the village of Saas Fee Fee drifts off to sleep, lulled by the melody of the autumn winds.
Tomorrow promises to be a long and perilous day, so I'm heading home to bed at around 8pm. The traverse of the Täschhorn and Dom is a very demanding race that requires good acclimatization to the high mountains. It's been several weeks now since I've climbed above 4,000 meters, and I'm worried. Physically, I'm in good shape to carry out this expedition. But as always, I'm gripped by fear. The incessant anxiety of having to endure the harmful effects of altitude, of losing my strength and getting stuck up there. The migraine leaves me in peace for the moment, but I remain vigilant. That's how I fall asleep, oscillating between elation and fear. Tomorrow I'll have to find the right energy, the right balance of forces, and not let myself be absorbed by my darkest thoughts. For it's always more comfortable to succumb to the easy way out, to give up and put off one's greatest promises. And I know that Nicolas will give me the confidence I need and convince me that, together, we can succeed.
Täschhorn ascent | Colossus of the Valais Alps
September 29, 2023. After a few hours' sleep, we get up at 2am. After breakfast, we leave the hut at 3 a.m. to reach the summit the Täschhorn at daybreak. Now we're alone with the mountain, our tête-à-tête begins by starlight. We make our way along paths and between rocks. Fragments of gneiss and slate, with micas glinting in their hearts. The full moon illuminates the horizon and the mountains stand out like serenity emanating from the most beautiful treasures.
Around 4 a.m., an army of lenticular clouds takes over the Alps, covering the Matterhorn, Dent Blanche, Zinalrothorn, Mont Blanc and Grand Combin around us. Little by little, they're getting closer, and I'm starting to worry. These wrap-around hats are usually a sign of high winds, and I wonder if the weather will change as we climb towards the summit. Behind us,Alphubel proudly displays its magnificent hanging glacier. And at its back, the Zermatt summits stretch out. Barely awake, theAllalinhorn, Rimpfischhorn, Monte Rosa and Lyskamm are already in full view.
On this rocky ridge, I feel in my element. But I can't help thinking of the tragedy it has endured. Patrick Berhault, a remarkable climber, died here in 2004. The route is accessible, but the Täschhorn was then covered with snow and insidious ledges that proved fatal. It is with deep emotion that I walk today in the footsteps of this exceptional man whom I deeply admired.
Our progress is rapid and then, 200 metres below the summit, the slope steepens and the terrain becomes unstable. The rocks give way beneath our feet, and we're glad to have no one above or below us. Several roped parties climbing at the same time would have been a real danger.
Shortly before dawn, we finally reach the summit the Täschhorn. It's 6:30 a.m. and from its 4491-metre height, the mountain brandishes an imposing cross. We've just completed the first stage of our journey, but deep down I know that the hardest part is yet to come. As dawn breaks, the icy air bites our faces and fingers. The wind picks up and snow sprinkles the rocks. Pulling on my crampons, I fear I may be suffering from altitude sickness. Knowing the trials and tribulations that lie ahead, I had promised myself that I would push on regardless of the pitfalls to come. But now I can only see what the rest of the journey has in store, and I'm overcome with dread. Overwhelmed by what nature now expects of me, I embark on this vertiginous, infinite ridge, aware that I'm experiencing one of the most intense moments of my mountaineering career.
Crossing the Täschhorn at the Dom des Mischabel | A formidable challenge at over 4000 m altitude
As we descend to the Domjoch, at an altitude of 4278 metres, I gradually lose track of time. Concentrating on my every step and every movement, I perceive nothing more than the rough, almost carnal contact that binds me to the mountain. Outside the world and yet at the heart of everything, I feel more dependent than ever on nature, uncompromising and sumptuous. In the east, the sun rises, lighting up the sky with its glowing flames. But we must continue our journey without contemplating it too much, for the autumn days are short and our road is still long.
As always in the high mountains, we have no choice but to go all the way. There's no turning back now. So we push on, whatever the cost. Treading powder or icy snow, we stay alert. The slightest misstep could mean our downfall. And when the rock is bare, we climb the sloping walls, still wearing our crampons. Our belaying is difficult, but we persevere. I keep exhorting myself to live each moment. One step at a time, overcoming the gendarmes without anticipating too much, always surpassing ourselves and, above all, never failing. As the hours go by, the fog thickens around the Täschhorn, adding palpable tension to the scene. After more than 3 hours of de-escalation, we finally reach the Domjoch. I come back to life, reconnect with reality and feel exhausted.
Behind us, the impressive ridge scrolls skywards, while on the horizon, the Matterhorn echoes its magnificence. And I think back to the very beginning of our ascent. Whereas on the way up we climbed over shapeless pebbles, the descent to the Dom proved to be quite different, more alpine and wild. The dissonant gravel has turned into sharp, compact slabs that are much harder to climb. And when I look up, the Täschhorn looms over us, soaring impetuously like the flames of a titan blazing in the sky.
Crossing the Täschhorn at the Dom des Mischabel | Climbing a legendary mountain
Then it's time to climb back up to the summit the Dom. It seems so far away, and I'm still so scarred by the difficulties I've just overcome, that I suddenly doubt my ability to reach it. Having no choice but to continue, I take a breath and set off. Now that the snow has receded, we take off our crampons. On the chaotic slopes, we climb tower after tower to protect the mountain from its assailants. While the smooth walls test my composure and technique, I like to tackle the unstable rocks, which are easier to grip. The more I climb, the more I rediscover the immense pleasure of being one with the mountain. In turn, the gendarmes give us a glimpse of the summit the Dom or conceal it. Taking advantage of nature's playfulness, I climb this ridge like a treasure hunt. Thinking at all times that the next peak will be the last, I climb them all with enthusiastic steps, finally reaching the famous summit. At 4546 metres, the Dom is the highest summit in the Alps, entirely in Switzerland.
What incredible happiness to find myself here after so much effort! Carried by the winds and towering above the mist, we catch our breath at the foot of the cross that adorns the summit. And when the lenticular cloud that covers us suddenly opens up, the view is marvellous. All around us, the Alps stretch out, resplendent and magisterial. The Imperial Crown of Zinal and the Matterhorn greet us from the heights of the Valais. We've made it, and it will take me several days to get my life back to the way I left it after such a feat, after so many emotions.
From Dom des Mischabel to the village of Randa | Last stage of an unforgettable odyssey
We're running out of time and already have to continue our expedition. With a lighter heart, we return down the Dom's normal route. It's no longer a question of climbing, but of a pleasant hike in the snow. Above us, wind-driven lenticular clouds wander. Playing with the sun, they draw fascinating swirls in the sky. From the Hobärggletscher, we have to reach the Festigletscher in the direction of the Domhütte. But here too, the glaciers have retreated and are in our way. In our exhaustion, we have no choice but to climb back up to the Festijoch to cross the cliff left behind by the fallen glacier. And despite our weariness, we have to be extremely vigilant to avoid the trajectory of the serac bars that overhang us and could break away from the Festigrat at any moment. This traverse certainly has many surprises in store for us.
From the Festijoch, once again, we are amazed. While early climbers recounted how they reached the pass by walking on ice, today it's impossible to reach the Dom des Mischabel on foot. A veritable wall rises up in front of us. Throughout the summer, fixed ropes help to cross the rock face, but with the arrival of autumn, the ropes have been removed. So we had to abseil down the escarpment over 100 metres high. This is the final stage of a delicate and daring ascent. From the greyness of the weakened glaciers to the russet and ashen hues of the thousand-year-old rocks, the Alps envelop us, crowned in the satin white of the snow-covered summits . All around us, the atmosphere is profound, as if we were in another world.
From Festijoch, we still have to climb 2300 metres to reach the valley. There's still a long way to go, and we're plucking up the courage to complete the traverse. We descend along the Festigletscher through snow and then ice. The appearance of the moraine is changing so rapidly as the climate warms up! Once we've reached the Domhütte, we'd love to be able to rest there, but it's closed at this time of year. There's another 1500 metres of ascent to Randa. My knees and ankles are hurting more and more, so I adapt and walk more slowly. Again and again, one step in front of the other. When will this fantastic and testing journey come to an end?
As night falls, we finally catch sight of the village of Randa. We've made it! 16 hours of crossing the summit the Swiss Alps. 16 hours of a breathtaking adventure I'll never forget. From now on, from Zermatt, I'll enjoy turning my back on the Matterhorn to admire the Täschhorn and the Dom des Mischabel. These legendary mountains that I have photographed so often and that have guided me beyond myself today. As always, painful ordeals become our most beautiful memories. For if life were all pleasure, it would lose its flavor. Through mountaineering and photography, I like to surpass myself, take on challenges and go further, to learn, evolve and appreciate the moment. To experience moments of lightning and magic up there. And to make the useless the very essence of existence. The high mountains make me grow and I always come back stronger from having met them.
