Piz Cambrena – Joos Couloir
The first weeks of November had seen a remarkable stable window of high pressure weather in the alps. This meant Zurich would often times be held in the unrelenting grip of a persistent fog, but once above the clouds there was the most beautiful autumn weather to be found. So far I had made use of this by going alpine climbing in spots that are usually already deeply covered beneath the fresh autumn snow at this time of year. With the end of this weather window approaching, I wanted to take one last opportunity, however, and make use of the excellent conditions for mixed and ice climbing currently present in the high mountains. It didn’t take much (or rather any) convincing to get Georgia excited about joining my plans and our eyes were soon set on the Joos Couloir on Piz Cambrena. Only a week ago I had come across a recent picture that showed the couloirs on its north-west face veiled in snow clinging to the steep rock and frost glazing even the deepest crevices. Thanks to this stable weather, there was no reason to believe the conditions now would be anything less than stellar, either.
And so – on a beautiful Saturday morning right in the middle of November – Georgia and I were sat on the long train ride into Graubünden where looking out the window gave the impression one was travelling through a still autumn landscape where the sun is reflecting of the yellow grass and the beginning of winter still only a thought in the distance. Adding to the appeal of this objective is the fact that taking the cable car up to the Diavolezza makes the approach a rather short one, and staying at the hotel up there would ensure us an early start the next morning. The hotel is mostly servicing the local ski resort, and on the cable car there was a strange contrast between backpacks with ice tools strapped to them and a suitcase embellished with Mickey Mouse pictures. Outside, we could see the snow canons below working relentlessly to fill in the ski slopes descending into the valley. The lack of local snow was more than apparent, but when we stepped out of the gondola at around 3000 meters, the impression changed. Up here, it felt quite wintery indeed and when we first laid eyes on the Bernina Range, the mountains presented themselves under a beautiful white blanket of fresh snow. We quickly spotted Piz Cambrene on the far left, right next to Piz Palü, and could even make out the couloir we wanted to climb. It still appeared to be filled to the brim with snow, and the entire panorama was boding well for the next day.
Starting the approach under the light of the full moon and the beam of a snow canon – Piz Cambrena can be seen in the middle (second peak from the left)
Two other mountaineers had come up in the same cable car and after a brief conversation we learned they wanted to climb the Gabarrou Couloir and got confirmation that their debilitatingly large, heavy looking backpacks did indeed mean they were planning to set up their tent out under the crystal clear sky. When we settled into our room, we were the only ones in a dormitory for about 16 people. Hopefully an indicator that meant our route tomorrow wouldn’t be overly crowded. Georgia then used the afternoon to sharpen her ice tools. This seemed like a very worthwhile use of time, since they were – by her own account – as blunt as spoons. Consequently, this task occupied the better part of the afternoon, during which we met one other party who were also heading to set up camp somewhere along the approach to Piz Cambrena. When Georgia’s tools finally looked like they had a chance at penetrating ice again, it was already dark. We went inside to play some board games (which included a round of memory that was truly embarrassing on my part) and then enjoyed dinner at the hotel. It could be called marginally more fancy than what you would get in a regular mountain hut.
The first steeper snow slope which made us put on our crampons
When we headed for our dorm, it included two more occupants by now. Two Germans had driven all the way from Stuttgart today and also wanted to climb the Joos Couloir tomorrow. It was still fairly early in the evening, and Georgia and I used the fact I had brought my laptop for some home office on the train ride to do a little movie night. Watching Collin Haley on his solo attempt of Cerro Torre in winter got us quite hyped up about tomorrow. But after we shut the lights, I had trouble falling asleep. Maybe it was the excitement for tomorrow or – more likely – the altitude and I slept in fact quite terribly. However, I also knew not to let myself get too anxious about a lack of sleep. While dinner hadn’t been anything particularly special, our 5 a.m. breakfast was definitely a few levels above the often times meagre selection one is used to at mountain huts. This was in no small part due to the fully automatic coffee machine. From a variety of coffee to hot chocolate, it served every hot beverage one could dream up at this hour and could probably do your taxes too if you asked nicely.
After gearing up, we started the approach under the bright light of a full moon just before 6 a.m. We were following along the ski piste for the first couple hundred metres, which included a short dash through the glittering cloud spurting from a snow canon. Soon we turned off on the hiking path where I promptly followed the wrong tracks, but luckily we could swiftly correct this little route finding error. The path was very well tracked, evidence of the amazing weather and conditions which must’ve attracted a considerable amount of climbers over the past days. In the cold morning air, the snow was frozen firm and after traversing the first slope on which a heedless slip would entail very unpleasant consequences, we decided to put on our crampons. Unfortunately for Georgia and her brand new Petzl crampons, we were back on walking over loose rock and scree after turning a corner not even a hundred metres after that snow field…
Georgia on the approach, shortly before stepping onto the glacier
In the distance, I was now able to make out some headlamps which flickered as they moved like little insects towards the gully which leads to the Joos Couloir and its adjacent routes. Camping under the clear night sky had evidently paid off, rewarding this party with a head start on everyone else. As dawn crept closer, we could slowly but surely take in more and more of the spectacular views. The snow covered shapes of the mountains were starting to reflect the warm glow of dawn, the bright moon filling in what the morning light had yet to reveal. I took out my camera to quickly snap some images, balancing between rocks and snow while trying to hold the camera as still as possible. When I stood still like this, the squeaking of footsteps on the frozen snow faded to reveal the utter silence surrounding us. It lay over the landscape like a second invisible blanket which complemented the calm coating of snow on the peaks. We came by a lone tent pitched on one of the many bivvy spots along the ridge leading towards the white ice of the glacier below. The snow was firm and the track was so well trodden we could’ve walked right next to each other, which – of course – we didn’t do. We did feel comfortable enough, however, to leave the rope coiled up. At first, the glacier stretched out deceptively flat, a frozen plain. But in the distance, one could already make out the daunting maze of towering seracs and gaping crevasses you would have to navigate to reach Piz Palü via its normal route. When zoomed in on a photo, it seemed impossible to tell the scale of these icy monoliths. They could have been microscopical patterns as delicate as a snowflake, or vast canyons carving many kilometres deep into the frozen surface of an arctic planet. Before we could reach them, however, we were already stood before a long snow gully which we knew would lead us to the base of our route.
The full moon illuminating the landscape while the first rays of dawn paint the rocks in a saturated red hue
Climbing the snow gully to reach the base of the route
In the firm snow, we could quickly move upwards while having to try to dodge the snow and ice being kicked lose by a party further up. We eventually reached the first belay station, where we squeezed in to start organizing ourselves for the climb. A quick game of rock paper scissors decided that I would have the pleasure of leading the first pitch. As soon as the other party had left, I started moving. Immediately the first bit of climbing right off the belay was a short and steep vertical section, but swinging into the frozen snow was an absolute pleasure and made for very easy and secure placements. The frequent traffic of the past couple days and weeks also meant that there was an abundance of steps kicked into the snow and so the climbing never felt particularity challenging even when it was steep.
The first pitch was supposed to be around 50 metres in length, but after only 20 or so metres, I reached the other party who had set up at an intermediate belay on some old pitons. Not feeling the need to already push to overtake them, I set myself up at this anchor as well. Not soon after, I started second-guessing my decision, though, as I looked down and saw that our early start might prove to be more critical than I'd thought. No fewer than 3 parties had just turned up from the snow gully, with more people advancing steadily across the glacier in the distance. Georgia ended up waiting nearly 15 minutes before climbing, delayed by a simul-climbing party that had decided they weren’t going to wait for everyone else. While climbing past us, they were, admittedly, very fast and quickly vanished out of sight, but it did stall everyone else. I wasn’t very concerned yet, but there was the looming threat of a missed last gondola at 16:15 p.m. – and it wouldn’t have been the first time this year that we didn’t make that crucial final connection.
Georgia approaching the intermediate anchor in the first pitch
Luckily, after this first minor traffic incident at the beginning of the route, we could climb without running into further congestions. After joining me at the intermediate belay (I had backed up the somewhat questionable pitons with a single nut for some peace of mind), Georgia then continued up the second half of the first pitch. Right off the belay, there was a little interesting section that involved the only real mixed moves of the day. As I was belaying her on that pitch, one of the two Germans from Stuttgart joined me. They had evidently enjoyed a more leisurely start, but were now finally climbing as well. I then climbed to join Georgia on the first proper belay (which was reassuringly on some confidence inspiring bolts). The second pitch started with a short traverse on snow and then went up another vertical but short section of climbing. Here there were even a few subsequent moves of hitting ice instead of just plunging the tools into the frozen snow. But the actual crux was finding suitable spots for placing protection between all the holes from previous ice screws that made the ice look like some proper Swiss cheese. The rest of the pitch lead over a gentle slope of perhaps 60°, and I quickly reached the next belay. Our delays on the first pitch meant that the party above us was nowhere to be seen, and it appeared like we had the route ahead to ourselves.
Georgia next pitch looked like the most interesting one so far. A ramp lead upwards to the left of a steep rock wall until the ice propped up and forced Georgia to do some traversing steps before tackling the final vertical section. This was probably the nicest, most continuous piece of ice on the entire route and after fighting with some dull ice screws Georgia climbed over its lip and out of sight to reach another snow slope leading towards the next belay. I was quite happy at this point we were among the first ones in this route on that day. By the time I started climbing, already two more parties had joined me at this belay, and I could only imagine how bad the traffic jams further down must be with the amount of climbers that had evidently come up with the first gondola in the morning.
The next pitch was the easiest and consisted of nothing more than a gentle snow slope. It was the longest pitch, however, and eventually I heard Georgia yell at me that I was nearing the end of our 60m double ropes. I still hadn’t come across any anchor and was now starting to climb up a steeper and more narrow gully, which seemed it would likely be part of the next pitch already. I looked around for a while to find a suitable spot for building a belay and with no hard ice to be found under the snow, I had to resort to the rock, which was quite crumbly in places. There was a single piton which I spotted, but it certainly wasn’t the most confidence inspiring one I had ever come across. To reinforce it, I put in two nuts and was eventually able to shout “off belay” down to Georgia. While she climbed up to reach my belay, she wasn’t able to spot an anchor either, which at least made me feel less bad for missing it.
The next pitch looked to be the final one, a supposed M4 that looked a lot more interesting than the previous snow plod. Sensing my enthusiasm, Georgia very generously handed me the lead for that one. As I set off, one of the parties that had joined me on one of the previous belays reached us and trusted themselves to my anchor; the party after them, however, did manage to find that elusive belay station in the snow – which at the very least confirmed its existence. Climbing that final pitch proved to be a fairly mellow affair. Thanks to the abundance of firm and well trodden snow, the only time I had to get in contact with rock was to place a few cams along the way. It certainly was much easier than M4 in these conditions. It wasn’t long before I reached the anchor, which I could now confirm was indeed the final one.
At the final anchor on top of P5
It was quite windy, and I took the time to throw on my big puffy jacket, before belaying Georgia up. We then had only a few more metres of gentle snow to walk until reaching a plateau, where we soaked in our first rays of sunshine. While it had been quite windy on the exit of the couloir, up here, only a few meters higher, it was almost completely still and we were able to enjoy the beautiful weather and amazing scenery. We were happy to be ahead of schedule for once and making the last gondola seemed to be a very achievable goal. After a quick lunch consisting of snacking on some bars and candy, the party below us topped out as well, and I could retrieve the gear which I had used for my anchor they chose to utilise as well.
The descent was rather straight forward, we just followed the clear track of footprints. After a short uphill following the last metres of the slope where the Joos Coulouir tops out, we could now see the actual summit of Piz Cambrena. In the interest of time, we chose to forego its summit glory and were quickly on the descent via the glacier. We now realised we were descending via the normal route of Piz Cambrena and had missed the opportunity to descent via the Eisnase as we had originally planned. But the descent was easy enough and so we didn’t mind. Only a short traverse through some deep, loose snow required some concentration again, not least because of the gaping crevasse that was looming below, looking like it couldn’t wait to swallow some unassuming mountaineers. The final metres down to the glacier were steep, but thanks to the abundance of steps in the snow we were soon on flat ground again.
On the descent, in the interest of time, we skipped the actual summit of Piz Cambrena
The descent path was very well tracked and we chose to do it without using our rope
The only thing remaining was the hike back to the hotel and even though this was probably the most gentle of all the terrain we traveled today, it was here where I could really feel the exhaustion hit me. Whilst climbing, I had felt fine, but now it seemed all the energy was zapped out of my legs. It was probably in no small part due to a very poor night’s sleep and not being properly acclimatised to the altitude. But I also felt there was some deeper fatigue deep within my body that had accumulated over the past week or even the whole summer. Not having eaten much for the entire probably didn’t help either. So I was more than happy when we eventually got back to the hotel and even had some time to spare until the last gondola.
Fortunately, the restaurant was still open, although they were already busy cleaning up since they were currently only open during the weekends. It was a bit of a weird atmosphere with the staff cleaning floors and tables around us, but the Apfelstrudel tasted amazing all the same and was exactly what I needed after a day like this. On the gondola, we ran into the two guys who were climbing behind us on the last couple of pitches. The two Germans from Stuttgart were nowhere to be seen, having evidently miscalculated their timing a little bit; they would have to walk down. The gondola was scheduled with only minutes to spare before our connecting train, but it arrived a few minutes early and we were in no trouble.
What remained was the loooong journey back from Graubünden to Zurich. More than enough time to reflect on our adventure. It almost felt strange to say that everything went even smoother than we could’ve anticipated, thanks to perfect conditions and hardly anything slowing us down (apart from the little traffic incident at the start of the route). In a way, one could argue the conditions might have even been too good; especially that final supposed M4 pitch was a lot less engaging than expected. Still, we couldn’t really complain, and in our minds this route turned into the perfect appetiser for more mixed climbing in the Alps – although this would likely have to wait until the next spring…
Walking back to make the final gondola in the afternoon light