Alpine Mag (3) - Vol du Dragon

This is the third of four articles written for AlpineMag.com, published in spring 2021, after a successful winter of alpine climbing.

I’d seen little information about the first ascent of Vol du Dragon, on the north face of Les Droites. I knew only the basics: it was climbed over five days in March 2014 by two Czech climbers: Pavel Vrtík and Jan Straka. They’d found hard mixed climbing, obvious from their photos and short video. Most intriguingly, they threw some big grades and exclamation points on the topo. After learning about the route, I mentally filed it away, curious but intimidated.

In February 2021, after a run of good luck on the north face of the Grandes Jorasses (Matt Glenn and I climbed Rolling Stones), I looked around for another objective. There’s plenty of opportunities in the Alps, but covid restrictions made us consider the mountains closest to our homes: the Mont Blanc Massif. What challenges could we find? What were we motivated by? Matt and I discussed options in a carefree manner.

‘What about the Dru?’
‘I’ve been there three times already!’ I replied.
‘South face of Mont Blanc?’
‘What about somewhere we don’t know much about…?’

Thus, Matt and I skinned up the Argentiere glacier on a breezy Monday morning, our ski tips pointing towards Les Droites. As usual this winter, the alpine approaches were much longer because the gondolas and lifts were closed. We were having to work hard for our routes!

Buffeted around on the glacier, wind-blown snow blasting our exposed faces, I hoped the 80 km/h winds would die down as forecasted. We dived into a bergschrund at the base of the mountain. Since we knew relatively little about the route, we joked about what we might find: ‘it’ll probably be too hard… for you!’

‘It took them five days, town-to-town. It’ll probably take us ten!’ As always, I like to start with an open mind, limiting my expectations to simply act and react with what we find on the climb.

Instead of biviying and starting early the next day, we decided to make the most of the weather window by climbing as it improved, rather than waiting for a stable, high pressure to arrive. This meant Matt started the first pitch whilst being pummelled with spindrift, moving quickly in the breaks between heavy snow pouring down our line. When the rope came tight I began climbing too, suspicious that we were moving together over steep ice and mixed terrain. As waves of spindrift pummelled me, I tried to keep climbing with my head lowered, aware of the growing loop of slack beneath my feet. I couldn’t look up and I didn’t want to look down!

Matt and I moved onto easier ground, climbing together towards the first headwall of Les Droites. This north-eastern aspect of the mountain, with the Tournier Spur to the right and Lagarde Couloir to the left, is a giant compact face of granite, diagonally sliced by the Czech Gully. Route-finding is both obvious (you avoid the steepest roofs) and tricky (a wrong-turn can lead to a dead end).

Getting stuck into the first headwall, we climbed two pitches marked as M7 and M6 on the topo. Thankfully, they seemed to be fairly run-of-the-mill alpine pitches around M5, making us question if we were on the right line, or if we had vastly different conditions. Our hopes were quickly deflated when we arrived at a ‘bivy’ on the topo. This was a shit sloping ledge, like two reclining chairs made of rocks. We desperately hacked out the spot as best we could, unfortunately damaging our axes in the process, and settled in for a roll-and-turn type of night.

‘Sun!’ I shouted as the first rays of dawn hit us on our second day. ‘This is great! We’re only climbing on north-east faces now!’ The sun was warming our tired bodies after last night’s poor sleep.

I took the breakfast pitches, eager to fight with the M6/A2 crux pitch. I like to climb free and onsight. I don’t really know how to aid. And armed with a pair of rock shoes, I figured we’d have a good chance of freeing this pitch: an upside-down staircase of roofs rising up a corner.

Thankfully, these pitches turned out to be much friendlier (again). I took a slightly more logical line by climbing some flakes on the wall at about halfway, as opposed to battling up the wide crack. I whipped my rock shoes off at the belay, simultaneously grinning with having freed the pitch and wincing as the blood returned to my toes.

In typical fashion, this ‘crux’ pitch wasn’t really the hardest, and the actual difficulties continued. Matt took off, leading a beautiful pitch with a laser-crack for axes and minute footholds. I could only see his outline above, a fly on a smooth wall, and he systematically locked-off each axe and powered upwards. The golden granite was fantastic quality, and he soon yelled, ‘safe!’

As the hours passed and we inched higher, it felt a bit like we had committed to a fight with the route; we had to battle and escape upwards. We knew we could climb these pitches, each one a sustained M6+ with baggy torques, steep moves or thin feet - or a combination of everything. But could we hold onto our onsight?

I very nearly fell off when climbing a short M-something pitch. This one had a Full House: a crack which was too wide for our axe heads; very thin footholds; and powerful moves turning a roof. A hook blew right at the top of the crack, causing me to shout in alarm, but I’d just placed another axe against a side-pull edge. I barn-doored slightly, but the single hook was just enough to keep me on… I rocked onto the belay ledge with wide eyes.

Our second bivy was the opposite of the previous night: we could lie down comfortably on a ledge chopped from the snow. It felt like a luxurious reward from the day’s efforts. We stretched pumped forearms and calves before enjoying our freeze-dried dinners. I laughed as Matt ate two Raspberry Fruit Coulis Desserts because the shop had sold out of normal meals!

‘Sun! Again!’ I shouted into the shadowed Argentiere glacier far below. We woke early on our third day, recharging in the sun’s warmth. ‘I could get used to having sunshine on our bivies,’ we agreed. We were still in slight disbelief that we’d been so much quicker than the first ascentionists, and I was pleased to have free-climbed everything so far.

Again, in typical fashion, the last part of the route took many hours. We tried to race up the Tournier Spur but the climbing was awkward and weaved around rock towers. ‘Left or right? Should we pitch or move together?’ We juggled the decisions, pining for the top.

Matt suffered a final sting in the tail. We made a rising traverse across old grey ice at the top of the Spur, the rope hanging 50 metres between our only two ice screws. I pulled for Matt to second faster. His swearing told me to chill out - one of the bolts in the head of his ice axe had loosened, and he nervously watched it wiggle and unwind as he traversed. Clipping into a screw, he was thankfully able to tighten it again with a crampon point. A harrowing 100 metres later, we both topped out into the sunshine and ate lunch, smiling.

What did we learn from our three-day experience, questing up Les Droites? Rock shoes make some crux pitches easier, but others will stay hard! We should be more careful hacking out bivies, and consider taking an Allen key to tighten axe bolts. Single boots are warm enough in some circumstances, and to keep an open mind.

The descent down the Lagarde Couloir was an efficient way to get back to our gear: a high-consequence escalator to the right side of the mountain. From there, we giddily clipped into our skis and slid down to Argentiere before dusk, already smelling the pizza and beers.

I felt very lucky we’d pulled off our crazy idea of freeing a route we knew very little about. We had taken a chance and succeeded. Alpine climbing is full of ‘unknowns.’ So often, the uncertainty is too great, the climbing too difficult, or the opportunity never arises. But sometimes - just sometimes - it all works out…