A white night at the Aiguille verte.

The idea of taking off from the Aiguille Verte emerged quite early in my life as a young paraglider. This emblematic Chamonix summit makes you a ‘Montagnard’ according to the famous mountaineer and writer Gaston Rébuffat, and is not easily tamed. Aerological conditions that allow you to take off from the summit are rare, so you'd better not miss it.

When I see in the weather forecast that there's a very light wind at altitude, I immediately think of going for it. Problem is, I'm working these days and I've got a slot, which only gives me a 24-hour window to try.

I called my friend Zian and pitched him my idea: to leave after my day's work at the buvette du chapeau and do a ‘one-shot’ ascent of the verte via the Grands Montets ridge, all at night without a bivouac, to reach the summit in the morning and take off. Without hesitation, he agreed to accompany me on this nocturnal escapade. 

The next day, I take my bag containing my wing upstairs to work. During the service, Gaspard, another of my acolytes, drops in unexpectedly for a nice croûte au fromage. I explain to him what we have planned for the evening with Zian and ask if he wants to come with us. He's bubbling over inside, wondering if he can afford to be late for work again. Answer: no, he can't, he has to be in Chamonix by 10 o'clock tomorrow morning. We'll have to leave early.

Gaspard left without giving a definitive answer, and arrived a few hours later at the cabane with all his stuff. He couldn't resist. We eat a good omelette just before setting off on our take-off mission.

It’s 8 pm and it’s time to leave, and everyone's in a good mood, even if Gaspard is slightly tense, not because of the sleepless night that awaits him, but because of the brossée he'll get if he's late for work again.

After several hours' walk, we quickly reach the petite verte, the summit overlooking the top of Grands Montets. There's nothing to report, everyone's in great shape and we tackle the start of the ridge in the ‘loose’ rock common to all the ridge climbs in the massif. The terrain is easy, which means we can go solo to save time, but we have to be careful, as none of the rock really holds up well in this heap of sand and rubble. We try to follow the route as best we can without making any mistakes, which isn't so easy in the dark of night, and the moon isn't much help. We make our way up to the foot of the Aiguille carrée, where we climb two pitches to reach the summit. It's 3am and we're not being kicked out of a nightclub by a bouncer, but we're at the top of the Aiguille Carrée and just in time to make it to the summit, which motivates the troops to carry on in good spirits.

A few abseils lead us to a gap and then to some easy terrain, so we're solo again. We cross over to the Argentière side to a small slope covered in soft snow that seems to be holding in place. Zian passes naturally, but suddenly the snow disintegrate and slide down the slab. He catches himself in extremis and just escape a fall into the abyss. This terrifying scene immediately change the atmosphere and double our concentration. We bypass this death trap at the top to advance towards a gully chimney where we decide to rope up with Zian. We continue on a tight rope right up to the difficult Pointe Ségogne, the tension is easing as everything goes well, but I can feel myself getting tired. My steps are less precise, my movements a little softer and my lucidity is diminishing. In my progress, I put my foot on a wobbly boulder that topple over and almost cut the rope. The inevitable moment of every good expedition: I'm tired and fed up. Fortunately, there are only a couple of pitches left to reach the summit of Pointe Ségogne, which marks the end of the climb and the end of the difficulties. 

It's dawn, and after a few nice pitches of IV+, we arrive at this famous summit, our business starting to smell good! Two abseils take us to the Col du Nant Blanc, where the sun finally rises and its rays warm and comfort me. It's about time to take a well-deserved break, and I sprawl out in a pile of rocks to take a nap. The clock is ticking and in 3 hours they have to serve customers. I'm back on my feet, a bit grumpy as I could have done with another twenty minutes of sleep. We arrive at the cap and make fast progress, the sunrise continues slowly, it's magnificent. However, I'm beginning to wonder about the wind - it's not that light.

By the time I reach the summit, Gaspard is almost ready to take off. After a little selfie, and without much hesitation, Gaspard takes off. And from ONE! After some consultation, we decide to hold off a bit with Zian, hoping that the wind calm down. After almost half an hour's flight, Gaspard lands in Chamonix at 8am, and for the first time in his life, he’s early for work. I take the opportunity to have a short nap so that I'm as clear-headed as possible when it's my turn, and Zian does the same. 

When I open my eyes again, I decide to go over the summit ridge that protects us from the wind to see if the wind has died down. To my dismay, not only is the wind still as strong as ever, it's actually shifted from north-easterly to due-easterly, which is the worst direction to take off from the summit. Zian remains confident, as he feels comfortable taking off despite the wind. As for me, I think it's getting a bit too much, and I'm looking for a solution, an escape route. I pointed out to him that just below the summit there was no wind and that the mist was rising in the Y-shaped couloir, so I could try a west-facing take-off. He rightly points out that taking off downwind from a ridge or summit is not a good idea. The pressure mounts crescendo and I have to weigh up the pros and cons. I have very little experience of face gliding, especially in such a strong wind and a windward take-off on the cap, and the 1,000 metre drop from the Nant Blanc that awaits me if I make a mistake sends a chill down my spine.

My decision was made, I was going to try it ‘downwind’, with the help of Zian who stayed behind to support me, I spread out my paraglider facing the Chamonix peaks three meters below the summit. I triple-check the harness, carabiners and lines and muster all the strength I have left for maximum concentration - there is no room for error on this one! A deep breath and off I go, a few quick steps towards the void and I'm in the air. And that's TWO! The mix of emotions - stress, concentration and adrenalin - instantly kick in and I am on fire. It’ a bit shaky, but I manage to get around the aiguille sans nom and Im back facing the wind, smiling as broadly as my sail. I'm enjoying every second of this dream morning. I circumnavigate the Drus and sweep across the west face to wave to the climbers and scratch out a little jealousy, while keeping an eye on the summit of the Aiguille verte to see my buddy take off. After a few unsuccessful attempts, which I watch from a distance, the glider rise into the wind, move forward timidly and then take off. And THREE, please! I'm shouting in all directions, tiredness is far behind me, I'm overjoyed in my paraglider, two thousand metres above the house, it's ecstasy. Our ambitious project has gone like clockwork, everyone has taken off from the Aiguille Verte for the first time, my acolytes won't be fired from their jobs and I've earned a good sleep.

Bisous from Chamonix,

Mathieu Moullier.