I flew from New York to Milan, arriving at Malpensa airport 8 a.m. on Wednesday morning. I recollected my duffel full of mountaineering equipment, took the train to the city center, and then walked to my buddy Enrico’s apartment, 30 kilos on my back. He was finishing up work; we pored over avalanche forecasts and trip reports. We asked all our contacts for conditions, suggestions. We scoured the Facebook groups. We ended up choosing the Rebuffat Couloir on the Tour Ronde, a route no one had suggested, and for which we had absolutely zero conditions information.

The weather looked best for tomorrow. We woke up, 5:15 a.m., dragged ourselves to the car, and drove to Courmayuer. Parked, dressed, and just enough spare time for an espresso. 8:30 a.m., first lift up, and we were on it. American country music played through the stereo system on the shiny cable car. 9:00, suited up and ready for action, we stepped onto the glacier at 11,300 feet. I’d always heard alpinism in Europe was accessible, but this was next-level.

The Details

Peak: Tour Ronde
Route: Rebuffat Couloir (Rebuffat Gully)
Access: Punta Hellbronner/Torino Hut
Aspect: West Face
Grade (in American terms): M5-M6, AI4, III
Date: Dec 7, 2023

Trip Report

Enrico & I had done a number of serious climbs together in Colorado, including Enter the Dragon (M4), Brain Freeze (M5+), and Stairway to Heaven (WI4, 300m). So we felt ready to roll, and didn’t stress the details too much.

This trip came together very last minute, and I had not brought my skis. You should really bring skis if you’re gonna climb in this zone in winter. I knew that, academically. But the journey to come would make sure I knew, practically, how badly I had fucked up.

From the cable car station at Point Hellbronner, we set out across the glacier in the general direction of the Tour Ronde. It was a gentle drop down a long slope to flat ground, then a sweeping traverse around two peaks to the west face of the Ronde, where our route lay: past the popular North Face, but a little short of the well-known Gervasutti couloir.

We made first tracks in the snow, questing onto the majestic glacier alone for a few minutes, before the next lift arrived and disgorged one party of skiers. They quickly skinned past us, staying on top of the snow while we sunk in to our knees or further with every step. They zoomed through the downhill section, and were soon kilometers ahead of us. We saw no one else out all day.

The approach was tiresome and time-consuming on foot. We had measured the approach distance on the computer as around 3 kilometers, and estimated it would take us 1-1.5 hours. We severely underestimated the amount of fresh snow, and it ended up taking us 3 hours to reach the climb on foot. We were only in our mountain boots, no skis and no snowshoes. A snowshoe track did exist out to a point below the North Face of the Ronde, which saved us some effort, but those guys must not have liked the look of conditions on the face, as the track ended early. We forged on under our own power, trading off turns in the lead.

We reached the base of the climb around noon — hilariously late, especially for winter. But we were there, and going to climb at least a little bit. We set a turn-around time of 3:30, figuring we could follow our tracks back out in the dark without much issue.

We crossed the bergshrund easily, since it was covered in snow. We didn’t find any anchors, but kicked a belay platform into the snow. I took the first lead, and started digging my way up the steep, loose slope. This reminded me of winter climbing in my home area of Rocky Mountain National Park, where deep, unconsolidated snow is the name of the game. Luckily, after 20 meters or so, the snow became more manageable, I lost my fear of falling into the mountain, and I started rock and ice climbing.

We’d agreed to simulclimb as much as we could, since time was short. I zoomed along through some moderate ice and mixed, shooting for what appeared to be a nice section of steeper ice. Unfortunately upon arriving, I found the ice to be very thin and fragile. While it was climbable, it wasn’t protectable, and it would have been very time-consuming to climb it, especially with the drytooling picks I had on my Nomics. I instead mixed-climbed some pinnacles to the left of the ice.

These looked easy, but I soon discovered the joy of the area rock- it was both slabby and smooth, lacking cracks, and very loose and chossy. It was easy to see how the gully would become seriously dangerous in summer temperatures. The pitch went around M4+, imo. After the mixed, I climbed another 10-15 meters of lower-angle styrofoam ice (protection: tied off stubby screws), and then belayed off of rock gear on the right side of the gully.

When Enrico reached the belay, we had an hour and a half left before our turnaround time. He led a 30m pitch up another section of thin ice and mixed, and belayed from a hanging stance off a set of bolts below a large chockstone. I thought the chockstone looked pretty easy, and hastily recollected the gear and set out to do the lead.

I was wrong, and this turned out to be the crux pitch, at least for us. (This pitch is not pictured). The chockstone overhung and didn’t offer good protection or straightforward pick or crampon placements. It took some puzzling out, but I eventually solved it with a sequence of sideways steinpulls to an upside-down stein where I cut both feet and pulled up solely on the tool, before re-establishing my feet on the slab. Probably the coolest sequence I’ve done drytooling in the alpine, M6ish. (EDIT: I was recently perusing the Philippe Batoux book, Mont Blanc: The Finest Routes, and he has this route rated as M4, which I think is a sandbag but maybe I’m just soft.) In different conditions apparently you can ice climb to the right of the chockstone. I thought the mixed was pretty sweet. Even after clearing the chockstone it remained fairly difficult dryooling for a few more meters, before reaching another bolted anchor on the left side of the couloir. I belayed Enrico up and we rappelled from there.

The next section of the climb was lower-angle snow, which went around a bend and out of sight. I’d estimate we climbed half the couloir, but we simply didn’t have the daylight to continue safely. If we’d approached on skis I think the climb would have been simple and doable. But we hadn’t, so down we went. Two FULL 60-meter rappels from bolted anchors returned us to the snow slope at the base of the couloir. We hit the knots on both rappels, so 50-meter twins definitely wouldn’t work (Brits, I’m talking to you).

Safely out of the gully, we coiled one rope, tied into the other for glacier travel, and began the trek back to Hellbronner. We knew we would miss the last cable car down — that was obvious when we started the climb at 12 — and planned to sleep in the winter room at the Torino hut. We’d brought our sleeping bags with us.

What can be written of our journey back except that it took four hours. We were at little risk, as the temperatures were moderate and the visibility was clear. But wind had filled in our footsteps, meaning we had to break new trail again, this time mostly going uphill. The jetlag started hitting. Enrico slowed, asked me for mercy as I dragged him along from the front. Despair nipped at our heels. Every now and then we’d hit a section of harder snow, which enabled us to walk on top for a few steps. This is great, we’d think, before inevitably and unexpectedly plunging in up to the hip, off balance and face-first.

Fun.

We eventually re-ascended to the Hellbronner cable car station, where we found all the doors locked and the signage very confusing.

We had been hoping to use the elevator inside the station to get to the Torino hut. With no access to the elevator, we hopped a railing and descended the ridge directly to the hut. Tired, unroped and exhausted, I found the exposure here very spooky. But it was beginning to snow, and we didn’t have the energy to go back down the stairs and navigate unknown terrain to the hut. So, down the ridge it was, the lights of Courmayuer shining in the valley below us.

After twelve long hours out in the Valle Blanche, we found our way into the Torino Hut winter shelter, the only people crazy enough to be there.

My boots, La Sportiva Trango Tower Extreme single boots, were absolutely soaked. I toweled off my feet and put on a pair of clean socks. Enrico, well-equipped with his G2 double boots, laughed at me. We chowed down on what remained of our snacks: some chocolate, a few almonds, a pulled jackfruit BBQ sandwich which my sister had prepared for me in New York City, days earlier. We were mostly out of water, having brought between us 1.5 liters of tea, which we had amplified a little bit by throwing some snow in there to melt before the tea lost all its heat.

Tired, dehydrated and at altitude, we didn’t sleep all that well. Still, we were warm and inside, sheltered from the snowstorm outside. The night passed, and the morning came.

In the morning, we woke up, gathered our gear (some effort to put my feet into my totally frozen boots), and took the now-unlocked elevator to the Hellbronner station. It was snowy outside, with poor visibility and chilling wind, but the cable car was running and the station was full of tourists: Italian families on vacation, mostly. Enrico and I, coated in Gore-Tex from head to toe, ran to the bathrooms and placed our heads directly under the faucets.

An espresso, a visit to the gift shop, and a leisurely ride down the two cable cars returned us to Courmayuer. We changed clothes, had a bite to eat in Aosta, and headed to Cogne for more ice climbing.

Overall

They say be careful in the Alps, for you can only have one first climb in these magnificent mountains.

Coming in winter, somewhat under-equipped, and jumping straight to hard technical climbing is probably not the recommended course of action. It was, nonetheless, an awesome experience. I will remember it forever. I can say that climbing in the Alps, long an item on my bucket list, 100% lived up to my expectations.

I will be back — with my skis.

Notes For Other Climbers

• BRING YOUR FUCKING SKIS
• I’m sorry about that, it felt like it bore repetition.
• You’re in Italy, make sure to eat frequently and fully. Just like the climbing, the food lives up to its reputation.
• Taking the cable car up the night BEFORE and sleeping at the Torino hut would allow for a more proper alpine start – 9 a.m. is probably the latest I’ve ever started a serious climb. This would also allow you to leave unnecessary weight at the hut.
• Torino hut winter room has power outlets and plenty of blankets available. No bathroom.
• We found a good amount of ice in the gully although it seemed to be in process of sublimating away. A few short screws were all we needed.
• For rock gear we brought a single rack of cams up to #2, and a half set of nuts, no pins.
• The ratings for this climb seem to be all over the place online, with people of varying nationalities and experiences offering grades in several different systems. You have my opinion above (drytooling grade of M5-6, ice grade AI4, commitment grade of III). For Alpine Grade, D/TD is probably appropriate, although truthfully I’m not too familiar with those ratings. You’d want to be a comfortable mixed climber before attempting this route, especially in winter.
• The Hellbronner cable car costs 56€ for a round-trip ticket, as of Christmas 2023. Parking at the garage under the lift cost us an additional 30€ for two days, although there is probably cheaper parking in the vicinity if you know where to look. Highway tolls to and from Milan were, no joke, more than 70€.
• Staying at the Torino hut winter room is free, but no services are available. No booking required.
• If you have any questions feel free to leave a comment or reach out personally.