Stories

[…]
All my stories are below
Beneath the surface, cannot grow
Curled and naked I defer
To shaky thoughts all in a blur
[“Below”]

Roots

Once upon a time...

“Why don’t we go to Lillaz and try some rock climbing for a change? It’ll be fun, I’m sure you’ll like it”

Didn’t have a harness, didn’t have climbing shoes, didn’t have a helmet, didn’t have anything, but my cousin collected some old gear in the house and sorted me out for the day. I would learn to love that vintage look on me when climbing.

I was just a little boy excited to go rock climbing for the very first time playing grown-up.

My “super uncle” got me into mountains’ land, my wonderland for a lifetime, and now it was just about to get more interesting.

Few minutes drive to Lillaz and a short stroll to the crag: a 70 meters high gneiss slab, grades from III to V, my introduction to the vertical world.

I remember every minute of that day.
I remember reharsing knots and manoevres meticolously.
I remember the excitement for what was about to happen.

I remember my childish innocence and happiness for a special day.
I remember picturing and experiencing only beautiful things.
Two pitches, one belay station, the vibe of a big wall for a kid.

I have a mountain soul and it lives in Cogne.

I dream of the dreams I once had in that valley. Up the paths, to the lakes, on to the glaciers, on the rocks, up the iced waterfalls, walking in winterland, knee deep in the snow, climbing on boulders, seeking shooting stars and comets under starry nights, witnessing the day’s birth from a bivouac, the smell of mountain grass, the cow’s bells chime and the wind through pine trees. It’s always been a dream and it’s always been reality.

I have a mountain soul.
And it was never welcome at home.

Drawings

Once, in Coumayeur, I found an old mountain guidebook from those years, a gift from my uncle. I remember having the objective to walk to all mountain huts and bivouacs in the guidebook. As ridicolous as it was, I actually started it, with my cousin, my aforementioned super uncle and sometimes my auntie too. I would be the annoying little boy asking for a stamp in my guidebook in every refuge we walked to.

There is a little drawing of mine on the first page. One day my little one asked me about it and I told her the full story. She’s a wise little girl and just said to me, “daddy… it’s not like a kid could possibly walk that much…” then she drew her own drawing underneath mine and continued, “but I’m going to climb mount Chaberton, you know?” I smiled back at her… that’s like a 1400 meters hike up steep ground, not difficult, but frankly a bit too much for a 6 year old? I didn’t think it was very likely to happen. She’s always been a lazy little girl, walking never been her cup of tea. Of course, I did not say too much about it though.

“I’m gonna do it with mum”
“Well, we should get some training going then… you know it’s a loooong walk, right?”
“Last year I walked for two hours already to Marmots Col, mum promised we can make it this year”
“You will, but nothing comes for free, we’ll do some training hikes, ok?”

We enjoyed some easy walks with friends and she was actually very motivated and happy to walk with her objective in mind. From being doubtful I actually started believing she could make it, seeing her effortlessly cruising up any path at any angle.

Enlightened dreams can build motivation and strengths we often doubt we actually have in ourselves, and she was there to explain the basics to me.

Of pride… and pain

Summer days went by, she rejoined her mum and I was back to my childless life. I almost forgot about my little one’s project; then one day I got a phone call.

“Dad! I’m on the col… we have to go back down though, mum decided it is not safe to carry on, there’s too much fog…”
“The col? What col?”
“On Chaberton, where the scree begins, we could see the summit only moments ago… now we can’t see anything”
“That col? But you made it then! It doesn’t matter you’re not getting to the summit, mum’s right. Can’t go blind in the mountains, mum’s right. Well done, you’re super!”
“Yeah… ok…”

Then I talked to her mum…

“... hi... she was super fit today, Nic, it’s a pity, so sorry for her, she was looking forward to it, she walked for so many hours to get here, but I’m sorry, I’m not feeling safe, you know me…”
“But you did make it! You’re doing the right thing, well done, tell her my Aiguille Savoie story, she’ll understand”
“Yeah I know, we’ll try again if weather allows”
“Again? To me, she made it. No need to prove anything. That scree counts nothing, it’s just another hour of hell. Tell her that to me she made it”

I really didn’t think they would try again. I told everyone what my little one did. To me that was it, all to be proud of. I pictured both of them up there hours from the car, a little 6 year old girl and my 48 kg ex-wife strolling down the mountain hiding all-girls disappointment from one another. Miss Proud and Mrs Prouder.

Aiguille Savoie

“Fuck… how did he make it alone with no gear? Up and down? So glad we’re almost there…”
“We’ll have to retreat kid”
“No way, why?”
“It’s coming fast, you’ll see”
“What’s coming fast?”
“Bad weather, snow, wind, the lot”

When I was 16 I had to rappel down two pitches away from the summit of Aiguille Savoie because the weather was going to change rapidly and drastically. Despite being under blue sky still climbing in short sleeves, eerie clouds were gathering far away and moving fast towards us. After 8 hours walking and climbing on the Preuss route, I was going to give up my teenager’s little dream. My instructor forced me to. Arrogantly in disbelief, I obeyed and learnt an important lesson through snow, fog, strong winds and freezing cold, shivering my way down to safety, hiding tears behind my goggles, Mr Proudest.

Radio madness…

“Where’s everyone? I need to know everyone is rappelling down”
“What’s going on?”
“There are still parties climbing, everyone should rappel now, there is no time, are you ready now?”
“Yes”
“Ok, off you go… when you’re clipped to the belay station don’t shout, I won’t hear you, pull the rope twice and I’ll understand... off you go now, quick, quick...”

A couple more abseils and we’re on the Triolet glacier. I can barely hear the voices around me, the wind is so strong and it’s freezing cold.

“Ok kid, it’s not over yet, you just stay in line, if you need to stop pull the rope and...”
“You’ll understand, yeah, I know”
“Well done kid, you’re doing great...”

I just nod my head, unable to say much, and start walking into the white, the rope disappearing a meter from me, as some magical presence is guiding me. He is that presence, a man with so much experience, only concerned about other instructors with their parties. He’s in his element, he’s totally at ease. Decades of mountaineering forged the machine he now is.

As we approach the refuge we see other parties. My instructor starts yelling stuff, he wants to make sure everyone made it out of the glacier. He’s very authoritative, all other instructors respect him. We’re all safe, when he talked on the radio, no one questioned his orders, some are already at the refuge waiting.

I’m the youngest, and as I walk in others pat me on the shoulders, saying nothing. My instructor then tells me, “I know you’re disappointed we did not summit, but this is the mountain, we’re not supposed to be here, we ought to know this, it decides whether we’re welcome or not”. I keep quiet, I’m thinking about many things, many except the summit. I don’t care anymore. I’m thinking I’ve not called home yet and I’ll be told off. My parents won’t understand, they won’t listen. They never did, they never will.

She knows this story, she enjoys listening to all my stories, but everyone writes his own book and she was about to write a cool page of hers.

Masters

A couple of weeks later…

“Dad! Guess!”
“Guess what?”
“I’m on top! I summited!”
“Wait… what… where..”
“I’m on top of Chaberton!”
“You are? You kidding? Well done, you’re amazing!”
“Mum wants to talk to you, it’s freezing, we have to leave, I’ll tell you all about it, bye!”

Connection dropped.

I was speechless, she really went back to finish the job! She’s an amazing little girl. I had to wait till the afternoon to talk to them again, too poor network up there.

“How… when… how?”
“Hi… yeah, she’s been awesome, we woke up at 6 AM and I decided it was good for a second attempt. Next week school resumes, it was our last chance.”
“But were you in Torino? Were you in Claviere? Where were you?”
“We were in Torino, we drove all the way, had a short break for breakfast on the highway, she slept in the car, we got to the car park at 8 AM and started walking straight away”
“That’s… wow… what was the weather like? How was she after the col? How did she cope on the scree?”
“Sunny, but windy, chilly… we found some French hikers on the summit and they’ve been very kind with her, complimenting and stuff, she’s so tiny… the col was… infinite, the scree… legs-killer…”
“I can imagine, I’m so proud… wish I was there. Well done, seriously, well done… how did you cope?”
“Not so great, her pace was something and half… it’s in her blood, once back down I could barely walk, she went straight to the playground and played like nothing had happened, jumping and running about with other kids”
“I know, she’s super when she’s not lazy… yeah… we have to keep pushing that little rascal...”

To date she tells the story of her little conquest. We’re built on top of what makes us happy… and proud. Parents see things bigger than they are, that’s for sure. In fact, I don’t really think getting to the top of anything is that important. I learnt that lesson. Still, having objectives helps, it’s crucial to do stuff. It’s the process that leads us towards our objectives that counts the most. Whether we get there or not... but when we do make it...

She first dreamt and bragged about it, then started actually believing it when she prepared for it. She faced reality when things didn’t go as planned despite the honest efforts. Easy to let go, but she didn’t. There comes her mum rebuilding dreams, motivation and expectation, good parenting at work, and finally giving it another go. Retreating is always difficult. Retrying can even be more difficult. And finally she made it. How cool is that?

Only the mountains can deliver such clear lectures of life, only the mountains can be such great masters.

Bedtime

“You know… that is one mountain you climbed and I didn’t”
“Really?”
“Really”
“If you want one day I can take you with me”
“One day… you take me where you want, I’ll follow you”
“But you need to be prepared for the scree, that’s a legs-killer”
“Is it like the ridge in my little goat story?”
“It’s harder”
“Sounds like a challenge”
“Mum barely made it” (she laughs)
“But she did it, you know... she hardly ever lets go, strong heads can go where legs and lungs cannot, one day I’ll tell you her Grand Paradis story”
“Happy ending?”
“Super happy”
“Tell me now!”

After bedtime story, she hugs me to fall asleep. During the day she plays grown-up woman, and she’s so fun and sharp. But at night, she hugs me to fall asleep, being the little girl looking for cuddles from her dad. Then her arms give in, she enters dreamland, peacefully, gracefully and I sit there looking at her for some time, just being grateful to be part of her life.

Up the paths, to the lakes...

She’s been listening to my stupid stories and jokes for hours now. So kind and patient to be here with me today. It’s meant to be a little mountain hike to some cold lakes tucked away from the local giant, but as I’m in sight of the Grauson valley, it’s in fact space time travel for me.

My twin is running around looking for clues on my story. They’re written on every stone in sight, trailing all the way and up to the top of my old master, unchanged. I watch him playing and fading. He’s in my eyes, he’s flying over the valley, nowhere and everywhere, breaking through memories. He finds my soul and I’m one again for a little while.

One day.

I wish I could re-live that day, my first time on crampons, heavy iron as old as fuck, and with an ice axe, of course just a piece of wood with more iron to carry, to match my trademark vintage look. One kid getting ready to climb his dreams. Looking up to his masters, the man, the mountain. I wish I could just stay and never go back down. I wish I was able to understand and be understood without saying a word. Having no fear, no worries. Like then, like now, like here, because in this place I don’t need either, I’m above all fears and worries.

I have a mountain soul.
It lives here. It never left.
It’s safer here. At home.

[…]
Every single fear I’m hiding
Every little childhood memory I bury
And I will lie, lie
Keep it all together
[“Below”]