Lagginhorn

Published on 2013-08-13 by Michael Stanton

After the climb of Mount Maudit with Peter, Georg and I drove back east to climb the Lagginhorn by the North Ridge (AD, III), traversing over after a hike up the Fletschhorn. For some reason I never got around to writing this report so these words come 8 years later. I remember a cold and quiet walk up the glacier for hours, with only one other party nearby doing the same route -- we'd arrive on both summits together. The climbing on the ridge was pretty fun...very nice scrambling, good visibility, although the wind was strong and cold so we had to keep moving.

The Taeschhorn and Dom are hidden in the cloud.

The Alphubel

The Täschhorn and Dom, scene of our great adventure from the year before.

Mountain Mary and friends -- Georg and I just climbed the glacier directly, not sure why the couloir to the left is better.

Georg enjoys the rock climbing. The left side of the ridge is out of the wind.

Hey, the wind stopped! Georg, happy on top.

This is Mountain Mary, leader of the second party. If I ever hired a mountain guide, it would be her. She is holding up the postcard she gave me on the summit.

The Weismies, as seen from Lagginhorn's West Ridge.

Georg has a treat -- Is it bread? Cheese? I don't remember, but gosh it looks tasty!

Michael near the ridge

The Lagginhorn awaits! The cloud is hiding from the screaming wind coming out of the west.

Michael on top. The ridge behind me is apparently a nice climb too.

Mountain Mary and friends at the summit cross.

Georg and Michael.

The Weismies.

Michael at the crux rock step on the descent.

Nice scenery on the West Ridge. We'd eventually scramble off left to snowfields and moraine.

Aborted climb of Mont Blanc

The pictures below are from a strange and sad event -- it was the mental breakup of the Holy Dream of Climbing in my psyche. We decided to climb Mont Blanc from the south, and hiked up to the Monzino Hut. On the way up I got really sick, and asked Georg to keep on hiking because I thought I might throw up and worse. What actually happened was a weird mix of violent physical illness and an onslaught of shame, misery and foreboding in my mind. I was "cornered" somehow. It was made clear to me that climbing had morphed into a way to avoid facing personal problems, and it would lead me to a sorry death in the mountains if I kept it up. When I say "sorry," I mean without honor, because they would have been used poorly -- no longer held with the highest and most positive thoughts, but treated instead like a "fix" for an addict. I would have broken a compact made long ago that I would honor them always.

I haven't been perfect about that, that is for sure! However, there under a judging sun I saw the difference between smudging the cloak and rending it fully. At once the great dreams of the Eiger Nordwand and things like that looked like cheap and dangerous toys. I knew that I had to go home and face my problems.

I made it up to the hut and was so weak that on the final steps I actually left my body and watched it walk. Later, folks at the hut gave me soup while I lay on a mattress. It was crazy!

We hiked down the next day...I was strangely elated. I felt as if a great debt had been discharged. There was a new infusion of energy available to me somehow. Years later, I see that the energy was something I already had, I was just misusing it: using it to hold off the awareness of a wrong turn or a problem.

Georg said he could absolutely see and feel the transformation...and he was resolved to keep climbing great routes because it was very clear that when motivation disappears, it really does go quickly! I have only a few things I wish I could fix in the world and do over. I do wish I'd been able to go to the summit with Georg that day instead of walking down. It's in a kind of "top 5" of things I wish I could do better.

It is a mysterious world. It is bigger than our private enclosures, and sometimes invades them.