October ski touring in Chamonix

Reports on the ski bum wire (also known as Instagram) had us cautiously optimistic. Oskar, Hampus and I made it up the Aiguille du Midi without incident. The exit onto the arete was little more than a person-sized hole in the snow, a far cry from the carefully sculpted and equipped ice palace it is in winter. We made our way down the narrow ridge onto the glacier with feline precision, clicked into our skis for the first time in 5 months and... hesitated.

It didn’t look like the light cold powder from the day before. To be expected, I suppose. On top of that, my main gripe with the Midi after the spring queues is that you’re straight into some pretty intense terrain, skiing without a warmup and usually about an hour out of bed. Oh well, we're here now, I thought. Oskar dropped in first, skiing like he’d left the oven on at the bottom. I skied the first few turns slightly more tentatively, the top of the snow a bit wind-affected but nice and soft underneath. After getting a feel for the snow, I let the skis run a bit and, a few seconds later, I was arcing long turns across the Col du Midi on nice packed powder. Joy.

Options this early in the season are limited as big open crevasses made anything lower down the Vallee Blanche pretty uninviting. Because it’s October and it’s snowed approximately twice lately, anything steep was more or less just rocks and black ice. Nevertheless, we were there and wanted to stretch our legs. We put our skins on and headed towards the Triangle de Tacul, specifically the slope below the Contamines Negri route. It looked like it could hold some low angle fun.

“Oh rats” I watched my helmet roll down the slope. It veered right and came to a stop below Pointe Lachenal in a dip around some crevasses. In a pang of laziness, I briefly considered leaving it. It was old and due for replacement anyway, plus it could make our fun morning out a lot more complicated if it was on a snow bridge. Skiing over for a closer look, it didn’t look that bad. As a precaution, I got the rope out and tied in. Oskar dug in and belayed as I sidestepped down, picked the helmet up and got back up out of the hole. An extra 10 minutes, not that bad, but a totally avoidable and rookie mistake. Don’t unclip the strap your helmet is hanging off! Maybe the value of this little excursion was in dusting off the cobwebs.

Back on the arete, another lap looked irresistible as the snow was a bit better now after a few hours in the sun. For a few turns, it was as good as any day in the winter. Back up, back down and up again, but not before another pre-season niggle. The toe strap on my crampon had broken. Not a disaster, I thought, until I remembered the catwalk that is the arete. We briefly pondered the problem: no duct tape, no zip ties but I had some slings. Choosing the smallest one I had I bodged it to my foot. It held just fine and I eased into a relaxing pace back to the lift station, cobwebs on my mind again. All in all, a good day out enjoying the first significant snowfall of the season.