I was super reluctant to try out a pair of crack gloves…  While I have taped my hands in the past for certain routes, the idea of wearing a crack glove really seemed like cheating!  Nonetheless, I gave them a try and it is hard to go back now!  For me, the real advantage is taking them on Alpine rock routes.  First, they are much lighter than carrying a roll of tape on a long approach.  Second, they take seconds to put on opposed to making a decent tape glove, which makes them super convenient to wear when you need them and take them off when you don’t.  Often on a long alpine route there may only be a pitch where taping up would be nice, so with the Splitter glove clipped to your harness you can easily put them on and save some damage to your skin!  These gloves are super light and much less bulky then many of the other crack gloves offered. They seem like they could be destroyed in one pitch, but I have worn them on several outing and so far they are stood up very well!

Japan and skiing. These are two words I had never associated. I pictured Japan as the land of electronics, cheaper cars, bustling Tokyo, and fast-paced life. My image of mountains and Japan was really limited to that of the most photographed summit in the world: Mount Fuji. But I really imagined it as a stand-alone volcano lost in the ever flat land of the rising sun, imagining it was so popular because it was the only snow covered mountain in the country. Think. Again.

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ICE LOVE IN NORWAY

The scariest part of the trip was driving down in the rain to the Setermoen area, 2.5 hours south of Tromso, when Tina and I could not keep our eyes on the road, but rather were looking up at the massive climbs all around us. We were like two kids in a candy store. We were both mesmerized and worried we wouldn’t have enough time to climb everything! (more…)

https://vimeo.com/67428080

Petzl’s latest “coup” is a big orange light one, in the form of helmet! It’s so light (165gr) that it’s half the weight of standard helmets. The foam Petzl decided to use is so resistant that adding the standard shell became superfluous. As a result, the helmet is so extremely light with great ventilation that you forget you’re even wearing one, even on overhanging routes where your neck would otherwise hurt from the added weight. The textile adjustment is simple all the while providing the most stability I’ve experienced with a helmet. Last but not least, there is a magnet to make buckling the chin strap with one hand possible. The Sirocco is no less than revolutionary!

On February 11, 2012, I traveled from Chamonix to Switzerland to visit my mom and go ski touring in the blistering cold. An Arctic cold snap had hit Europe and I was running out of “reasonable” tours to do while pregnant around Chamonix. I was a few days past my due date and needed to find tours on which I could just strip the skins off my skis and glide back down to my car should I be going into labor. The tours had to be somewhat close to a hospital too. My mom – an avid climber and multiple time ski mountaineering competition winner – wasn’t too psyched on me skiing while pregnant. But she joined me on a few tours, soon realizing that there was no changing my mind and that I was being really careful and that well, it really was safe enough. We skied 3300ft that day.

I stayed in Leysin that night, the little sunny Swiss ski resort I grew up in and where my parents still live. The following day was yet another bluebird sunny Siberian cold day and my mom was determined to keep me at home, sure that the only reason I hadn’t yet given birth was that I was too active. But I felt that every day could be my last day of skiing, since I could be going into labor at any time. So we went out for a shorter ski tour above the house. We got home by 4pm. An hour later, my stomach started to ache a little so I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to get checked out. We drove down to the hospital, where Adam met us. 6hours later, Olivia was born at fifteen minutes past midnight.

As they say, nothing can prepare you for giving birth. Not even your growing belly. You’d think that with so many women having given birth over time, you’d get a sense of what it’s like! My labor was as painful as it was quick. My best description of it is this: coming out of the water after having fallen off your surfboard and resurfacing only to get drowned over and over again by huge waves that don’t let you catch your breath, wishing for someone to make it stop, wondering if it will ever stop, while the waves get bigger bigger, and closer and closer together. A French comic said: “When women say that giving birth is the most beautiful day of their life, I can’t help but wonder what the other days of their lives are like!!!”. As excruciating as labor and giving birth is, it’s true that once the baby is crawling on your belly, staring straight into your eyes, you instantly forget the nightmare you just experienced.

We – Olivia, Adam and I – were all that once both startled, in awe. I wondered how such a perfect being could have been inside of me, already formed, with eyes, ears, a mouth, a head, a belly, arms, legs, etc. Adam and I were both mesmerized and slightly in denial of the miracle of life. It’s all at the same time unreal, magical, beautiful, surreal, moving and right then, you know that your life will never be the same. Or do you?

These very words are what’s kept me from having a child for so long. I love my life. I have worked long and hard to make my life what it is. And I wouldn’t trade it in for anything. I often felt that when people said that you’re life will never be the same, it was said with a negative edge. I was therefore all the more determined that while having a child would change my life, it would be for the better: I would still be me, I would still do what I love to do. I would find a way to make it all work, because I strongly believe that happy parents lead to a happy baby.

Yet, the first week, all I wanted was to be a mom to this little wonder in my life. There was so much to learn: changing diapers, bathing her, learning how to care for her, marveling over her, breastfeeding, learning to be a family of three and “sharing” the little being that had grown inside of me with Adam. But soon though, sitting for hours-long feedings at a time, listening to her cries, not knowing how to help close those beautiful beady eyes at night and sleep deprivation all got to me. One evening, as I felt overwhelmed, I grabbed the trash from Adam’s hand and said that I would be taking the trash out, and no one would get in my way of doing so. I NEEDED to get out, breathe some fresh air, be alone, for even 5 mins. Suddenly, taking the trash out seemed like the greatest adventure ever! Adam encouraged me to get out of the house. But I think it’s innate for moms to want to feel irreplaceable to the child. So, when 10 days into it, I went skate skiing, guilt was my silent partner as I glided down the smooth track. I rushed home after an hour, feeling like a bad mom for having enjoyed my time outside so much, for having enjoyed something other than my little one. But I also realized that I was all the more excited to be with her, and her cries no longer felt like daggers stabbing my heart. What if my all consuming passion was actually beneficial to helping me be a good patient mother?

The following day, I tried to go ski touring up the nearby piste in Les Houches. I got there, put my ski boots on my feet, put my skins on my skis, called Adam, heard her cry, took my boots off and drove home. “She needs my milk, she needs me”, I thought. I felt that no one could do this job as well as me. It’s hard to break the bond that connects a mother to the little being that was in the womb for so long. But I am lucky that Adam is such an eager Dad, as happy to be with her as to be in the mountains. He encouraged me to try getting out again the next day. I ski toured for an hour and went home. The next day, I toured a little longer. Over that week-end, while Adam was guiding, I even let my mom watch her while I went out to breathe some fresh air and reconnect to myself. Gradually, the tours got a little longer (not too long or my boobs would burst!!!), I was able to pump more milk, and I soon realized that in order to be a good mom to Olivia, I needed to feel good myself and that doing what I love most – being in the mountains – enabled me to get perspective and feel energized. The time away didn’t only benefit me: it also gave Adam the space to be a Dad to Olivia without me looking over his shoulder all the time. Maybe I’m just trying to justify what I do, but I feel now that it is essential for Olivia to know at a young age that she is loved not only by me, but that others love her (nearly) as much as I love her, and that she can be happy even when I’m not around.

Olivia is now 10 weeks old. She has nearly doubled her weight and is a much loved, thriving and very smiley baby girl.My life has changed in that I am now a mom and she will forever be my daughter. I learn everyday from her. She is my priority. But I am also learning how to keep being me and do what I love to do, to find the balance that enables me to be a good, patient and loving mom to her. When I’m up there, all I want is to be with her. But if I stayed home 24/7, I wouldn’t have perspective and might end up feeling frustration, which isn’t good for anyone. So I get out on most days to ski tour, ice climb, climb, run and also guide.

I don’t go out for as long as I normally would, but I am more efficient and appreciate my time away all the more. The rest of the time, I am with her.

I figured out a way to work while she sleeps on me and I take her on hikes in my baby carrier.

That way, it feels for both of us as though we were still out together in the mountains like she was when she was in my womb – those were some of the most beautiful moments in my life.

While I love every second of being a mom to her, I know that I need perspective. I can get it by taking a little time for myself each day, and reconnecting to who I am outside of motherhood. I am lucky to have a support system – Adam and my parents mainly – who enable me to do that too. I also live in a place, which enables me to get a quick workout without having to drive. People will always judge how you do things and have an opinion as to how it should be done, but what I have learnt so far is that there is no one way to be a good parent, there is only the way that works for you, your baby and your family. And to feel good about the process. It’s still early days and I know that my life will change as Olivia grows up and I will grow with her. Yet, I am determined to set as an example for her, that parenthood doesn’t have to be a frustrating, sacrificial experience. I want her to see that life goes on, but that it is only more beautiful by having her in it.

Adventures, before and after:

Pregnancy has been one of the best journeys of my life. It’s not over, but I am already starting to feel nostalgic about not seeing my belly grow everyday, accompany me on adventures or where ever I go. But I am also excited to meet the person who lives inside of me. I mean, how weird is that? I think I can grasp that there is someone growing in my belly because of the kicks, the undulating waves under my skin, my bulging profile, but maybe you just can’t come to the full realization of what is really happening until the wee one is in your arms. I don’t know that yet. And that’s the magic of it all: not knowing, being accepting to what ever is coming your way and making the best of the adventure you started on.

And what an adventure it’s been! My baby isn’t born yet, but it’s been to the top of many climbs and mountains with me, while I was guiding this summer and later climbing for myself. When climbing stopped feeling good, I switched to biking, hiking and swimming. I wanted this time of my life to be about exposing myself to new things – since my life has been all consumed by climbing and the mountains for most of my life – because it’s what I would like my child’s life to like. So, I traded my climbing shoes for pedal and bike cleats to ride in California and Utah and later, for paddles while Adam and I discovered sea kayaking together in the Bahamas, and eventually for cross country skis with my mom in Finland. But I missed the mountains and when winter hit our home in Chamonix over Christmas, I was all excited to get back on my skis. Hiking downhill was a little painful because my baby pushed down heavily on my pelvis because of the impact of each step I took, so skiing came as a relief!

Ski touring is a lot like hiking, only you’re on snow, pushing skis uphill but you get to enjoy the rewards of your hard earned climb, cruising down beautiful untracked powder. Of course, being pregnant, you need to pick what you ski and how you ski it:

– avalanche terrain is not appropriate unless you know that conditions are really stable; this has been a great opportunity for me to explore more mellow tours that I could later come back to and do with clients;

– you need to reel it in, skiing at a slower pace, keeping your eyes doubly peeled for what is coming: rocks, branches, trees, holes, etc. Skiing in a whiteout can also be a concern but I usually send my partner ahead so they can show me the way and give the terrain perspective with their track;
– listen to your body: it’s never easy to turn around, but what matters is to listen to your body and feel good about what you are doing. I know that I can tour a few thousand feet uphill before the baby seems to be stretching in all direction making it uncomfortable to keep going. It feels like the baby is putting its hands out and saying: “ok, that was good, let’s go down now, am over it”.

– find partners to join you on your adventure: when I’m not guiding, I often go ski touring on my own and I love it: you can go at your own pace, listen to an audiobook, go up, go down and be home whenever you want. But really, sharing outdoor adventures with friends is one of the most precious things in life and this has taken a whole new meaning for me during pregnancy. I went out with lots of different friends and they always watched out for me, making sure I was ok, worrying about me and it felt good to be on other side of the fence. Although guiding is my life and I love every minute of it, it also felt really good to be indulging in my passion with friends whom I didn’t have to watch out for and just be enjoying ski touring for what it is, without worrying about pleasing other people or about being out there training for guide courses. It’s been an amazing way to reconnect to what I love to do and why I love being in the mountains so much.
– the best thing has been to take my little bump along on the journey. whose to say if she enjoyed it like I did, but I get a feeling that she did. Of course, it’s my interpretation of it but have you ever been out with someone when everything is flowing, and seeing how good they feel and how much they love being out is contagious? that’s how I feel when I go out with my bump. So, who’s to say…

The hardest part about my “adventurous ” pregnancy has been people’s judgments on how I chose to live my pregnancy. I’ve had an amazing pregnancy, suffering very little from the symptoms that women usually suffer from. Maybe the main reason for that was that I felt I was doing a good deed by taking my baby out for rides, ski tours, and many other adventures, breathing in fresh air, sharing my love for the outdoors with her. “Happy Mom, Happy Baby” is the saying, right? These have been times of deep connection with my baby to be. It was hard at first, because I was guiding a lot and sometimes taking risks that I felt were inappropriate for my baby and knowing that didn’t feel good. Once the guiding season was over, I was able to listen to my body and to what felt ok for both me and the baby. Although I appreciated people’s concerns for both of our health, I also felt that it was really intrusive that people had an opinion on what I should or shouldn’t do. I live in ski resort and the mecca of alpinism, Chamonix, France – and my doctor here deals with more athletic people than probably most ObGyn will ever see. When I asked him if what I was doing was ok, his eyes popped wide open, a smile came to his face and he said: “I only wish I could come along on the tours as well! what you’re doing is great for you and the for the baby. Just don’t go skiing at resorts where there is a risk of people skiing into you. But there is no counter indication to ski touring!”. So, I have seized this opportunity and ran with it. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I know that this is only the start of people judging what they perceive parenthood should be like. What has held me back for so long from having children is people always saying how much your life is going to change, how your life is going to end. But I strongly believe that you chose your life – parenthood, pregnancy, work, etc. – and you make it what you want it to be. My mom was cross country skiing the day she went into labor. My parents kept traveling and climbing despite having children and all our shared adventures is what made me who I am today: they opened my eyes to new cultures, to adventures and traveling, to living a life outside the norm and it’s made my life that much richer. I am sure people judged them for their choices, but they stuck to what they thought was best for them and for us and that has inspired me more than anything in life. Taking the path less traveled is not always the easiest solution, but it might just be the richest. I hope I can offer at least as much to my child.

Life goes in stages. For me at least, it does. You go through college, graduate and wonder: “What’s next?” You find your dream job, settle into it and one morning you look at yourself in the mirror and wonder: “What’s next?” I have a passion: climbing. And I am always wondering what the next climb is going to be. But to give it more meaning, I decided to become a guide and communicate my passion to others. So, I went through the guide’s training to become fully IFMGA certified. I built my own company, Into The Mountains, and clientele and have been loving every moment of it, along with my career as an athlete for First Ascent and other companies (Petzl, Julbo, Scarpa). But one morning, after a very busy season, I woke up, looked at myself in the mirror and wondered: “What’s next?”

Well, truth be told, it didn’t happen quite that “overnight.” I have always thought that the day I have kids, my climbing life would end. Climbing, guiding, being a professional athlete, etc. would disappear from my life, and I therefore needed to do every climb I possibly could before then. I wouldn’t say that the pressure came as much from my environment as it did from me. I knew I should have kids, but I didn’t know when the right time would be, after which climb I should decide to give it all up for kids. People have often said that they haven’t done some of the climbs they wanted to do because they wanted to be a responsible parent, which is most likely why I always felt that my life as a professional would end with children. Maybe it’s in response to that that I decided to become a guide so that the day I would have kids I could justifiably still go out and play, all the while working and getting some exercise and coming home without the need to go out and do more training.

That said, 2011 has so far been one of the most prolific and exciting years of my life. I got to climb in Antarctica, Thailand, Jordan, ski-guide all over the Alps (Silvretta, Bernina, Haute Route, etc.), climb the Supercouloir with one of my best friends, Tania, do a one-day ascent of the north face of the Eiger with my husband, Adam, move into a great apartment that Adam remodeled while I was away in Antarctica and many other great moments shared with friends and family.

Filled with all of these great experiences, I hit a bit of a wall in May. I was climbing with Adam on the Grand Capucin, one of the most world-class and spectacular peaks in the world, no less, when I realized that as much I loved climbing and guiding, I suddenly felt the urge for something more to balance out my life. Too much of a good thing can kill a good thing, is the saying, right?

As I climbed up the soaked blank granite face, I realized that I just didn’t want to be there. A tough realization for a climber. I reached Adam and with tears in my voice and in my eyes, I told him that I just wanted to be home and make babies. With a look of terror in his eyes, he said, “You freak me out!” Yet, as hormones would have it, I got pregnant that night (I like to think so; it makes for a better story)—or around that time. I quickly found out that I was pregnant and was elated. It’s not that I had wanted it that badly, but it felt like it was the right time for it. When I turned 25, I decided I should graduate from law school. When I turned 35 (this year), I knew that I should start thinking more seriously about kids. And I did. I think that I had known for a long time, that this year would be the year because last year, when I was trying to ascend Moonlight Buttress in Zion, I was so sad that winter arrived so early, preventing me from getting back on it, because I already knew deep down that I would be pregnant the following year.

That feeling of elation faded with the realization that, well, I was pregnant. Not just in concept, but for real. Something was growing inside of me, something that would change my life as I know it forever. Those words had ruled my concept of parenthood, and I always felt that as a consequence my life as a climber should end with pregnancy. So I went from being elated to being downright sad, grieving the life I had worked so hard to build for myself, grieving my identity, wanting this baby but resenting it, feeling guilty for having these emotions that I was sure the baby would feel. I was confused, torn between what I thought I should feel and what I felt.

Alongside these personal feelings, I was also confused about my guiding. I didn’t know how good or bad it was for the baby that I was going up and down mountains on a daily basis, guiding, taking risks, and more so, putting the baby at risk. That baby has been up more mountains than most could dream of in a lifetime! (My mom recently told me that the baby was going to be born with a backpack on his shoulders.)

July was a really difficult month for me. I was two months into my pregnancy and felt extremely stressed out about the idea of hurting the baby, with the constantly unstable weather patterns and having to modify all my guiding days and many other aspects of my life.

I think it took getting injured for me sit back and understand that this wasn’t the end of my life as I knew it. I was climbing on the Weissmies on flat terrain when I missed a high step and landed shin-first on a knife-edge boulder, cutting my shin open to the bone. I continued guiding to the summit and down, and went to the doctor’s when I returned to the village below. While waiting to get stitched up, I was hit by a wave of heavy tears. I was like a two-year-old, inconsolable, weeping like I never had before. I took a few days off, rested and accepted the fact that I am pregnant and am lucky to be able to work while pregnant. Many other women have gone through this before and many will after me and it’s just a part of life, a part of making choices and working around them to make it work as best you can.

I think that you can make parenthood whatever you want it to be and still be a responsible parent. Having kids doesn’t necessarily mean settling down. Maybe it will bring more structure to my life, forcing me to be more focused to keep achieving my dreams, but I hope that I won’t use my kids as an excuse to no longer pursue my dreams.

That said, I know that my lifestyle is particular and fitting a kid in an already very busy schedule won’t be easy but I think my life will be all the more rich for it. After all, I picked guiding not just to share my passion with others, but also because I believe that it’s very compatible with parenthood. I get to exercise all day long and be available to my kid when I get home at night, not needing to go out and exercise some more. And during the off-season, I will possibly be more available than a 9-to-5 parent could be.

I am now 3.5-months pregnant and have been guiding through the summer and loving every moment of it, since my little accident. The season is coming to an end and I am looking forward to climbing for myself again and finding the space to do other things that are more suited to pregnancy. Pregnancy is a lot like doing a first ascent. Although many people have done first ascents and have been gone through motherhood before, your own seems like the first of the first; you can only hope that all of the skills you have accumulated in your life until now will enable you to overcome the challenges ahead and lead you to a successful summit, this one this time being motherhood.

Summer in the Alps went from being inexistent to full blast. It’s the hottest month of August in years. I am grateful for this spell of beautiful weather myself, but after this past few days in the mountains, I realize that glaciers aren’t as happy as me. They are downright hurting.

I just had an amazing week with my client, Michele. Michele is a well-rounded climber who goes out climbing on her own (as in, without a guide), both on rock and ice and has climbed all over the world. She’s been to destinations I still dream about going to myself. After a week of hiking to acclimate around Chamonix, she was ready for our trip into the mountains. Since I hadn’t climbed with her before, we headed to the Albert 1er hut the first day to climb a moderate ridge to the summit of the Aiguille du Tour, a peak which sits on the border to France and Switzerland. Upon reaching the hut, though, I wondered where the glacier had gone. The last time I’d been there was in 2002, and the glacier was minutes from the hut. I blamed it on my bad recollection of the area but a fellow guide confirmed that the glacier had just shrunk drastically.

After a beautiful climb up the Arête de la Table (called as such because a flat rock somehow sits on the ridge and you have to climb around and then on top of it) to the summit of the Aiguille du Tour, we returned to Chamonix. We spent the following days climbing perfect granite on the Aiguille du Peigne’s Papillons Ridge and ice on the Goulotte Chéré followed by the classic Cosmiques Ridge. We then headed over to Switzerland to spend three days climbing around the Trient Hut, located on the Swiss side of the Mont Blanc Range. Although I had hiked up to that hut earlier this summer, it was still early and the snow hadn’t fully melted off so I wasn’t as shocked as now.

I first came to this area in 1996 with my parents to climb a route right above the glacier. We had stayed at the Orny Hut, just an hour down valley form the Trient Hut. From there, we hiked a few minutes to reach the nearby glacier and hiked on it to reach the climb. Nowadays, you couldn’t even imagine doing that. The glacier is 150m below the hut and nowhere on the way to that climb anymore. Five years ago, the glacier in that area was still fully an accumulation zone, but now, it’s turned to an ablation zone, leaving very little time for this glacier to survive.

After a nice night of sleep at the newly guarded Trient hut with Michele, and the most amazing vegetable curry cinnamon (yes, cinnamon) soup I have ever eaten, we headed out the door at 5 a.m. for our climb, the south ridge of the Aiguille Sans Nom (Nameless Tower), a beautiful line up perfect orange granite. This area is a little remote and both times I was back there this summer, I didn’t see anyone! A treat! We hiked up the Trient glacier to the Col des Plines and headed down into a wind scoop to come out at the pass. I expected the backside to be fully covered in snow, as it had been when I was there five years earlier. But instead we found scree and very loose terrain, leading to a totally dry glacier. I couldn’t believe it. Poor Michele, she had to listen to me repeat over and over how different it was this time around, just like an old woman saying: “Back in the days…”

It didn’t stop us from having an amazing climb up perfect granite to the summit of the Aiguille Sans Nom, followed by some ridge climbing down the easterly ridge of the Aiguilles Dorées (Golden Needles) and some rappels back to the Trient glacier. We had an amazing week with great weather and I was in great company with Michele. Yet, I can’t brush off the images of the once-huge glacier that I knew and wonder how much longer it will be around for us to see and marvel at. We used to look at pictures from the 1920s to see how much glaciers had shrunk. But now you just need five years time to no longer recognize a location you thought you knew. I don’t have a solution, of course, but this was a reality check I thought I should share.

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More often than not, what makes my day as a guide or as a climber is not as much the climb as it is the people I guide or climb with. Guiding the Aiguille d’Argentière—a 3,902-meter high peak above the Argentière Glacier in Chamonix—was no exception to the rule. After canceling three days of guiding due to bad weather, I took on some random work with local guide services to make up for lost work. You never know who you are going to have as clients when you work for other companies, so I didn’t know if I should be excited or not about this climb, but I had low expectations because I didn’t have a personal relationship with them and felt that I couldn’t disappoint. If anything, I would get to summit a peak I had not yet stood on. I had tried to ski it the day I returned from Jordan this past March, but the snowpack hadn’t settled enough and we turned around at the base of the steep slope.

The clients were a Swiss couple in their 50s with some climbing experience. I met them at the base of the cable car and after making sure they had all the necessary gear, we rode up to the top of the Grands Montets cable car. In winter, you would ski down the Glacier du Rognon to the Argentière Glacier before starting up the climb. Hiking down in the summer isn’t nearly as much fun, but the beauty of scenery makes up for it. A few hours later, we were at the Argentière hut. From there, the view stretches to the south to the spectacular north faces of the Verte, Droites, Courtes and Triolet. With all the recent precipitations, the routes up the north faces looked nearly in condition (in the summer, they are usually shedding rocks nonstop). The hut has just been remodeled and it is lovely to stay in such nice places in the mountains. They cooked what could be the best meal I’ve had in a hut: a homemade soup followed by a Moroccan tajine. Yum!

We woke up at 4 a.m. to start on our climb. We followed a faint trail in the dark and made our way through a treacherous boulder field before reaching the disappearing glacier. This glacier is named the “Glacier du Milieu” (Middle Glacier) because it rises steeply between two magnificent and flamboyant jagged rock ridges, both topping out on the summit. The climbing is pretty straightforward, despite a few sections where we had to navigate through a maze of crevasses. After the bergschrund, the slope drastically steepens. We made good use of the cramponing technique we had perfected on the dry glacier the previous day on our way to the hut, and made it safely to the summit. A biting northerly wind greeted us on top: I quickly added my Igniter Jacket to enjoy the beautiful panorama, stretching to the south to Mont Blanc and the Grandes Jorasses and to the north to the Swiss Alps. We soon started back down. Descending steep slopes is where you are the most at risk, so we took our time, making sure each of our steps was secure.

Once the difficulties were over we were able to talk a lot more. The clients—both doctors—told me about where they live, their passion for the mountains, for nature and for the environment (having even built a fully environmentally efficient house), about their kids (their daughter is a Swiss champion rock climber for under-16-year-olds) and much more. After what has been a bit of a difficult summer with the weather, meeting such great clients (and having nice weather) really brought home why I was guiding and why I love to guide. I sometimes feel that clients can bring more to the guide than the guide can bring to them by taking them to a summit. Clients always bring a lot to the plate, but this time, maybe because I had low expectations, there was room for me to let myself be surprised. And this was definitely one of these special times when clients made my day.

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One thing I love about my job is this: It sure keeps you on your toes…both figuratively and literally, of course. But this year has been more on the figurative side of things.

Europe has been hit by a southwesterly flow of weather that even the best forecasters have had a hard time understanding and interpreting. Since guiding is very weather dependent, it has made my job quite difficult…but all the more interesting.

Clients email me way ahead of time to book me for their dream climbs or their dream week in the Alps. And it really means the world to me to do my best at making them discover my backyard, in the hope that they will love it as much I do, that they will enjoy the climbing and get to reach their dream summit. For this to happen, though, three factors must be met: The client must be in good enough shape to achieve their goal; the conditions on the route must be good; and the weather must be decent. Last summer, this was hardly ever an issue. Sure, there were times when I had to rack my brains a little in order to find a better destination than the one originally planned, but it was the exception to the rule and there was always a great alternative to be found. This year, however, I can’t recall many days going according to plan.

Guiding can be intense in itself, because you have to plan for the climb, figure out what the itinerary is going to be, book huts and hotels and cable cars (a perk, really!), make sure conditions are good on the route, brief clients on what to expect on the climb, what gear to take, make sure they have the gear they need and that they are using it right, make sure you have the right gear to guide a climb, pack your bag, manage clients on the climb, acknowledge hazards and manage them, come home at night and repeat for the following day. But this year’s unstable weather has added a whole new level of stress.

At the end of July, I had a great client to climb both the Mittellegi Ridge on the Eiger and the Hörnli ridge on the Matterhorn. I met him the day before the trip started with the weather outlook in hand and had to break the news to him that none of these climbs would happen. That’s always really hard for me to do because people have traveled from far away for this, took time off work and away from their family, all to do “Plan B” climbs. But weather and conditions are something that I can’t manage and that’s a responsibility I always have a hard time not taking on as my own. So I try to find other satisfying options, but this summer, the weather forecast would drastically change from the one posted in the morning to the one posted in the evening, forcing me to constantly change plans and adapt. This was stressful but we almost always made it work.

This past weekend, however, the forecast was for three days of beautiful weather initially—and ended up being the worst three days of the summer throughout the Alps. Even further south, where the weather was nicer, the winds reached up to 50 mph at lower elevations. So we resorted to going to the museum and eating ice cream. Sometimes you just have to accept the reality and not try to force things. And I think clients are understanding of that, but I always wish I could have done more and found where the one patch of dry weather was hiding and made it work.

As I write this, the sun is blasting through my window and I am about to head on up to a hut for the first bluebird day of guiding in a long time! This spell of bad weather makes me appreciate the sun and beauty of the mountains all the more. It will be such a nice change to be able to focus on my job and on the clients, and not worry about the weather.

The Weissmies is one of the easternmost 4,000-meter peaks in the Alps and is close to the Swiss/Italian border, in the Saastal, opposite from the famous ski resort, Saas-Fee. Because it doesn’t sit right on the main crest of the Alps, it is more sheltered than the peaks in the neighboring valley of Zermatt and often gets better weather. With this year’s spell of bad weather, it’s been my peak of choice for uncertain weather days.

It’s a bit of a drive to get there from Chamonix. You drive over two passes and then up the Rhone valley, going from the French to German speaking part of Switzerland, and eventually up the narrow and windy road to the Saastal, a V-shaped valley dead-ending at the Mattmark dam.

The hike to the hut the first day was really awesome. In Europe, there are lots of lifts to access areas, even in places where you couldn’t imagine a real use for them. Sometimes the lift is just to access a house, a pasture for cows or sheep, a small village or just for leisure. But I am always grateful for them as they save my body from overuse. We parked the car in SaasAlmagell (all the towns in this valley start with the word “Saas”) and took a small lift up to a tiny hamlet in the mountains. From there, the paths winds through a steep cliff, over manmade bridges, metal steps bolted onto the rock and onward to the Almageller Valley. It is such a contrast from the States, where no manmade structure is allowed in parks or in the mountains. Here, everything is made to be playful, yet it doesn’t seem to really interfere with nature. It’s discreet and not shocking at all.

It takes about three to four hours to hike to the Almageller Hut, with a little break halfway at Almageller Alp—a little restaurant in the middle of nowhere—for a nice, refreshing drink before starting up the steep section the hut. You can only see the hut once you’re 10 minutes away from it. This hut has to be the most beautiful I have ever been to, with a huge terrasse, beautiful stairs, a stream that runs along it, a kitchen that is so polished you can see your reflection in the metal cabinets, beds with nice comforters, all you can eat homemade delicious meals, etc. It’s a real haven and it’s no wonder it’s so popular.

In the morning, we follow red-and-white painted signs on the rocks all the way to a pass before starting up the ridge leading to the summit of the Weissmies. The peak offers a great diversity of rock scrambling and beautiful, thin, snow ridges. I had never done this traverse until this year and almost didn’t get to finish the first time. Pretty high up on the climb, I missed a step and hit my shin hard on the rock. I didn’t want to cry so I just rubbed really hard on my shin to make the pain of what I thought was a bruise go away. When my client asked if I was bleeding, I lifted my pants and realized that not only was it an open wound, I could also see the bone. I breathed hard and with the help of other climbers on the climb, dressed the wound nicely and kept going to the summit, which was only another hour away. I knew that I would be getting stitches within the next few hours. So long as I was moving, I was fine, but when I stopped, the pain came crashing down on me. I was relieved to finally get anesthetics for the stitches and forget about the pain. I wasn’t able to guide for the rest of the week.

A week later though, I was back on that same peak with another client and had a flawless ascent. The descent goes down the north face back to the Hohsaas lift, which in turn takes you back down to the valley floor, giving your knees a few more years to live!

Because of its location, the fun and beautiful approach, the lovely and welcoming hut, the beauty of the ascent and of the peak itself and the lifts taking you down once you’ve descended the north face, the Weissmies is one of my favorite moderate 4,000-meter destinations.

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