Vallée Blanche Full Moon, some days like that...

Feb 20, 2019
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Vallée Blanche Full Moon, some days like that...

We were preparing quietly. We: Iris, Melody and Charlotte, a small half of the happy group I was organizing that night. "Who wants crampons, who wants an ARVA, who doesn't have a harness...? "It's like being in the middle of a souk, minus the crowd!
Everyone was soon about equipped to cross the barrier, the one that opens the doors of the world from above. But a good part of the troupe was still not present.
Suddenly, Sylvie called: "they just told us that the last dumpster leaves in 5 minutes" "WHAT?!, what the hell?! I had checked it out, I was sure it was at 4:45! Go ahead! Go ahead! (and in my head: who's already there, who's not there?), we'll join you! ». Obviously, the first reflex is to rely on the fault of others. CMB, of course, which we regularly target as the cause of all our ills. But the lament here was to stop at the edge of a reality borrowed from modernism: yes, we will have to accelerate, become effective, efficient, efficient, effective, productive...

No time to ruminate any further, I was congratulating myself a moment earlier on the advance we had, on which we could enjoy, and on this organization that seemed oiled.

The fight is jerked off like a salesman on the sly, the display is tidied up in a fraction of a second, and we are soon sprinting towards the dumpster. I definitely love Chamonix! A little later, we will talk about Africa, Chad and a very different relationship to time. It was decided, once at the top of the Aiguille, we made our maxim that forms the backbone of these societies: "you don't know when you leave or when you arrive". We're going to drag it out, slow it down, and above all, take the measure of the present moment!

We are all in the bucket, dripping, without the spacing between our bodies helping to temper them. Yes, the dumpster is full, and yes, it is the last one of the day. Obviously, we are not the only ones who had this idea. I scan the faces around me with my eyes. Some of them obviously recognized me, and I'm trying to guess their names. Soon, I meet Adrien, Christophe, Sylvie. "And where is Francis? ». "It's me! ». "But are we all here? ». Obviously yes, I can't believe it!

This evening is starting to please me, because it puts into practice a way of life that I have adopted, for lack of pleasure (or of achieving...) in everything that was too organized, planned, regulated: improvisation. And in the mountains, coupled with adaptation, they are often the keys to a practice that avoids deadly ballistic-type behaviours.

Well, I still don't have enough money to throw flowers at this action: not sure if it confirms and supports the credit of a guide medal that I don't have yet!

On the bridge of the Aiguille, I can finally resume my abruptly interrupted activities: unpacking the display and distributing it by auction, hoping to separate myself from all this equipment: half a dozen ARVAs, as many harnesses, 4 pairs of crampons, 5 frontals...

We are now ready for a night descent of the Vallée Blanche. Under the full moon, with slowness and good humour.

Thanks to this great equipment, the mayonnaise took the space of a long and beautiful evening.

Yann Borgnet

The rest in pictures, which will speak much better than textual knitting....