There are those trips where you go somewhere do a bunch of climbing n' drinking then come home. Then there are those trips that change your life irretrievably. I don't mean in a bad way just that things are going to look just a little different from now on.
For me going to France to participate in La Gorzderette was just such a trip. Ah, La Gorzderette how I wish you were a living breathing woman of flesh
and blood skin and sinew that I could make love to and retire to a Chalet make Beaufort cheese by the wheel and have 13 children with.But I digress. What is a La Gorzderette? How do you stalk this thing? And what's with the rabbits?
Once upon a time there was a town, nay a village, nestled within the firm engaging thighs of Le Vanoise which like most of the
Alps is being adversely affected by climate change. Not to be deterred the village found solace in the machinations of Stephane Husson and Sam Beaugey who conceived of a tower of ice a fortress keep in white,For climbing on...
France I have decided at least in the rural areas seems to retain a certain medieval quality. As pal Simon pointed out the distance between neighboring chalets in one hamlet was sufficient to permit two horse-drawn carts to pass one another. Thus the setting for a medieval tourney replete with loads of yeoman yeomanning about pushing hay-filled sledges (luge), skiing, slack-lining, tandem snowshoeing, coiling ropes whilst standing in ice-slush, orienteering, guide-obstacle-coursing. Oh, and ice-climbing.
I had hoped to duck the Tournai so I would be fresh for the l'exhibition Saturday but not to be, Stephane Husson tracks me down having recruited Sam Beaugey's lovely-yet-mountain-ready gal Geraldine. An accomplished alpine skier from Verbier Geraldine proves both agile and good natured the ideal partner for the multi-disciplined La Gorzderette. First we wander off in search of clues on an orienteering outing my college geology class saves the day as I recite for Emilie Delanney the theory of glaciation (in French no less). Next we ski an aerobic lung-buster that serves well to help provide me with conditioning for my later Alps adventure. I throw berets, ski some more then its off to the sledge push-race a muscle-power vent where l'ensemble has to guide a 250-year old hay luge around a course completing two laps, my experience with weight-training and grappling comes into play as I dig in to move the surprisingly heavy luge and keep it moving while Geraldine steers and hauls.
Notably next is tandem snowshoe left-right-left-right then the "le course de guide" that geraldine and I rope up for tip-toeing along frozen posts rails then my nemesis, the slack-line. We do okay before we climb, I choose a mixed-dry-tool route on the inside of one of the tripod legs largely because the overhand is crowded plus having a demonstration to do that evening in l'exhibition I need a route to perform on, preferably not on the overhang which I know the younger French climbers will likely monopolize in their usual no-shirt antics.
The route looks good I get half-way across the roof when my belayer pulls the rope tight the last clip being the finis so I will have to leave the last part of the route for the evening show under the lights.
So we are done, with la tournai anyway I grab some heavy-duty cuisine de haute savoie (sausages, pasta, bread, cheese, cafe' and a lemon tart) then its time to hang in the Chalet and wait for the evening show. Which is supposed to start at 6 but is in effect in full swing by 5. As expected the French guys are hiking the roof taking their shirts off so I suit up, make my way through the throngs of people step through the barrier onto the icy ground below la Tour...
All of France is watching...
Well not exactly but when you as the sole American show up in the heart of French alpine culture wearing psychedelic snow trousers a hand-painted top and a sea-creature mustache people notice I collect my belayer and make for the inside of the leg. Tie-in drop coat the purple Nano comes to life as I nail pockets jump for the frozen plastic holds switch back to the flanking ice skirts pull for all I am worth a red spotlight hits me I hear Sam Beaugey invoke my name through thumping French techno my perfect moment even if nobody is watching me above me Monica Dalmasso hangs from the Tyrolean cable her flawless eye sure hand captures my journey nay my transfiguration to walrus-sine event mascot.
Then its over everybody splits as I take in one last route they are giving the rabbits away to the event winners let the party begin.
But there is one more ordeal to undertake, "The Best Climber in the World" contest for which I am enrolled. No rest for the supremely wicked anyway there's the plane flight in two weeks to sleep on...
A sadistic congenial romp through the surreal first up is a pull-up contest on my F2s in which I crank as many as I can en-route to munching a snickers bar tied to a string being seductively lowered before the inductee. I manage twelve before I nail the bar biting it clean in half. Next I have to stand in a wash-tub filled with slush whilst coiling a frozen rope having seen the French lads hurry through this I lay it on absentmindedly coiling some rope while prolonging the burn as long as possible, "WE love you Rob!" shout several French" girls while I ham it up. Their is the table crawl, the weighted slack-line, shirtless haul-bag haul (more posing), the bottle crawl then I'm all-in...
I miss some of the French when Sam announces me as the best climber in the world, there is girl winner too a chocolate medal which I hang around her neck followed by the much-appreciated cheek-kissing.
Time to party!
Photos: Clockwise from top- La Gorzderette is very much about spectacle, think medieval pageant. Lower- Champagny en Vanoise: The world's coolest ski town. Lower left- No fear, the natives are very friendly. Geraldine, 1/2 le ensemble de tournai. 1 & 2: Monica Dalmasso. 3: RCC Collection.
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