In July of 2025 I went on a 35 day trip to the French and Swiss Alps to climb in the Alpine and spend time amidst the mountains. Planning a big climbing trip is challenging. Some things went really well and others…not so much. Overall it was a great learning (and life) experience and I hope that this account will help those who are planning their own alpine adventure.
Before the trip even started, many months before, I had already begun preparing. This season I was committed to being fitter than ever before. I created a custom workout tracker in Notion, equipped with 7 different categories and 10 different trackable metrics. I pored over the training bibles Training for the New Alpinism and Training for the Uphill Athlete. And I spent so many damn hours on the incline treadmill in the gym that I must have watched all my lectures (and lots of Netflix) whilst walking at 3 to 4 km/h with a 10kg backpack. And as the date of the trip loomed closer I decided to punish myself further by doing weighted staircase training in the stairwell of my block. I bought three 10 litre water jugs from Shopee, loaded them up and somehow managed to stuff them into my 58 litre hiking bag. Then, after putting on my shoes, I would sit down and put the backpack straps on. Feeling like an overturned tortoise, I would heave myself forward on all fours and then slowly get up on my feet. When I weighed it once, the scale read 33 kilograms. I would then proceed to take the lift to the first floor, climb all the way up to the 15th and repeat this 4 to 6 times. Even with all this training, I wasn’t as fit as I could have been and what I did would probably be someone else’s pre season warm up. The reality is that the body takes a long time to improve its aerobic endurance, the energy system most crucial to mountaineering. So if you are planning a trip in advance, it’s best to start early and be consistent.
Of course, I was not only physically preparing but also planning out the logistics. Thinking about facing the specter of unemployment after my return from Europe left me in a dirtbag state of mind. Therefore Jing Yang and I decided to camp for the majority of the trip to cut costs. I also made a list of ‘dream’ routes that I thought we could do. Having been seduced by the tantalizing ridges of the Swiss Alps the year before, I placed many of those routes on the list, which necessitated a complicated moving of our gear and ourselves from France to Switzerland and back. All this would prove to be much harder in practice. I realize now to not be overly ambitious, especially if it’s your first or even second alpine trip. The weather and logistics will inevitably make mincemeat of even the best laid plans. Instead, have an idea of what routes seem interesting and within your capabilities and be flexible. And don’t move around too much, especially if you don’t have a car.
We caught our midnight flight on the 2nd of July to Geneva, where we would take a bus to the famous mountain town of Chamonix. I remember feeling nervous and slightly apprehensive. I have always had a healthy respect for the mountains, and I knew that there would be some level of danger or risk on each climb. I had faith that we could mitigate these risks, but accidents are always possible, no matter how good a climber you are. It’s important to not let your guard down even when a climb is easy or something you’ve done before, as I would soon experience. After landing, we checked into our Airbnb, where we soon met with our friend, Wen Wu (MIR23 President) and his friend, Dom. They had driven down from Munich where they were spending a semester abroad to climb with us for the first few days. We loaded up with groceries from the nearby Carrefour and prepared for our first route of the trip, the Crochures Traverse.
Early the next morning we had to rush to buy some things we needed and I made the mistake of buying a 6 day consecutive lift pass instead of the non-consecutive version. I felt pretty despondent because I knew that we would not get to climb on all 6 days and felt that I had wasted a lot of money. The late start also meant that we only caught the cable car at 1040am, giving us less time to catch the last lift down. In hindsight we should have settled these tasks earlier, but also it’s important to not dwell on mistakes for too long and let it affect the rest of the trip.
The weather was great, albeit a little cloudy at the top. We started hiking quickly to make up for the lost time, only to find ourselves going up the wrong gully, nowhere near the actual route. The gully in question was loose and sketchy and it was an unnecessary risk. We should have consulted the GPX track on our maps app more closely and not blindly went up what we thought was the right path. Wen Wu noticed that we were going off track but thought that Jing Yang and I were confident of the way. It was definitely our mistake but please don’t hesitate to speak up even if you are less experienced. I’ve come to realise that if your gut instinct is telling you that something is wrong it’s usually wise to heed it.
Finally, after going down the other side and up another gully we reached the start of the route. I roped up with Wen Wu whilst Jing Yang was with Dom. The route was technically easy, with an alpine grading of AD and a maximum climbing difficulty of 4a, so I decided to climb it in my approach shoes for comfort. For most of the route we would be moving together, placing protection along the way in the form of cams or slings wrapped around spikes of rock. However, as the crux pitch was right at the start, I asked Wen Wu for a belay.
I was thankful that I had because the squeezy slightly overhanging chimney felt much harder than 4a to me. Old school routes are usually quite sandbagged in the Alps, so just because you can crush 7a in the gym or even outdoors doesn’t mean that you should expect to do the same here. In addition, most of the time you really don’t want to fall on an alpine route as the distances between protection are large and it’s likely that you’ll hit something on the way down, so ideally the climbing is well within your abilities. Especially if it’s your first time, make sure to start out really easy to get a sense of the climbing style and exposure. One exception is ‘modern’ fully bolted routes like those on the south face of Brevent, which climbs like a normal sport multipitch.
The rest of the route was fairly uneventful, classic ridge scrambling with amazing views all round. Sadly, because of our late start and mistake on the approach we only reached the top at 3pm. The last lift down was at 430pm and we were more than 2 hours away from it. Even so, we made a valiant effort, rushing down scree and snow fields to reach Lac Blanc where we rejoined the normal hiking path.
Alas, it was not to be, and we only reached the cable car station at 6pm, long after the last car had departed. Because of that we had to endure an additional knee crushing descent of a thousand meters back to the valley. On the way down my right knee started hurting badly, a problem that would persist for the rest of the trip on big descents. I would later find out that it was IT Band syndrome. Mentally it was very challenging to deal with an injury right from the start and it definitely affected my mood for the worst. In hindsight I would have added more mobility and strength work for the specific purpose of injury prevention but sometimes these things just happen.
By the time we reached the bottom it was almost 8pm. It had been almost 9 hours on the mountain and we were feeling battered and sore. Definitely not the chill warmup climb that we had wanted. We turned in early and decided to have an easy day tomorrow. I woke up with my knee hurting even more, with sharp pains radiating up the outside whenever I bent too much. I decided to take the day off whilst the other 3 went sport climbing at Brevent. For the following day we decided that I would take Wen Wu and Dom up the famous Cosmiques Arete, as Jing Yang had to teach online tuition that day.
Luckily my knee wasn’t too bad the following morning and so I was in better spirits as we queued up for the Aiguille du Midi cable car, which would whisk us up to 3800m. It was my second time doing this route (we had almost missed the cable car last year) and so I was feeling confident that I could find the way and complete it on time. Stepping out of the ice tunnel and onto the narrow snow ridge that leads to the Vallee Blanche is always a surreal experience. One moment you’re surrounded by tourists snapping photos and the next you’re perched improbably on a sharp staircase of snow and ice with precipitous drops on both sides, with the mountains unfolding around you like black and white paper cranes. Your senses come alive as the wind bites into your face and the sun sparkles off the pure whiteness of the valley below. Thankfully we were there during the Arctery’x Alpine Academy and the guides had helpfully laid out a handrail along the whole arete, which made the descent slightly less intimidating.
We made our way to the start of the route, where to my horror I discovered that it looked nothing like the climb I had done last year, which had been covered in snow almost entirely. This time I was staring at a jumbled pile of rocks with no clear path or footprints to guide me.
There had been a heatwave a week or two back and it really showed in the mountains, where patches of bare ice and rock were being exposed to the glare of the sun. To me it was a very real demonstration of global warming, and how the glaciers and mountains were melting before my eyes. As the permafrost melts, weakening the bonds between the rocks, the mountains become looser and more hazardous as well, meaning that many of the classic routes may no longer be climbable in the near future.
We made decent progress on the route regardless, as I managed to spot some custom drilled crampon holes in the rock which guides use to speed up their clients. We scratched our way up the rock in our crampons, eventually reaching the two abseils at the top. After coming down the rope, we continued on, pushing through some tricky routefinding and the 4b crux.
After the crux we had to head up one final gully before exiting out beneath the cable car station. I decided to go up on the right side as it looked like that could be the way. On closer inspection it seemed very unlikely as it was too narrow and so I carefully downclimbed. Suddenly I felt the big flake in my right hand start to shift back. I barely had time to turn around and scream “ROCK!” before the door sized rock came tumbling down to my right. I fully expected to see it smash into either Wen Wu or Dom (or both) and send them flying off the mountain but thankfully they were to the left and the rock missed them by a metre or so. I was really shaken by the experience and climbed extra carefully up the final stretch. It was a grim reminder that the mountains are dangerous places and not to be taken lightly.
We made it to the top in a whiteout, cold, scared, but alive and uninjured. Once again it had not been the experience that I had expected but I was glad that overall, it had gone well, and also that we had lots of time to catch the cable car down. Dom graciously treated us to burgers, making it a good end to the day.
The day after I took another rest day for my knee and our time in France came to an end (for now). We were going to Switzerland for what we hoped was a two-week journey through some of the classic routes in the Valais Alps. Dom and Wen Wu gave us a lift in their car as they were driving back to Munich and we arrived at a small campsite in Saas Grund, flanked by the Mischabel mountain range on one side and the Lagginhorn and Weissmies on the other.
We had planned an ambitious 3 day plan of back-to-back climbing. First we would ascend up to the Almageller Hut, 1220m above the valley floor. Our plan was to camp for the whole Swiss portion of the trip due to the exorbitant costs and so we had to carry all our camping gear as well as food with us. Then, on that same day we would climb the Dri Horlini, a smaller rock ridge near the hut. The following day we would attempt the Portengrat, a longer ridgeline further out from the hut that looked promising. And lastly, we would climb the Weissmies via the Rotgrat and down the South Ridge back to the hut, to avoid the crevassed glacier descent down the normal route, as well as having to carry all our camping gear with us. In our minds this was the perfect plan, making the best use of the 3 day weather window. However, the margin for error was slim and it turned out that once again things would not go so smoothly.
Figuring out the camping logistics was quite a pain as neither of us had truly camped for a long period before. Even the small things like packing and unpacking and making sure you know where every small item is can take its toll after a while. I highly recommend anyone wanting to camp and climb to first learn the ins and outs of camping in a more tranquil and low stakes environment before trying to merge it with alpine climbing. My sleep was restless and I woke up the next day groggy and out of sorts as a result. However, I tried not to let the camping deter me and tried to enjoy the perfect, cloudless sky that greeted us in the morning. The walk up to the hut was panoramic and pastoral, a classic Swiss backdrop behind us.
It took us 3 hours to reach the hut, a decent time considering the load in our overstuffed backpacks. After taking a short break to take in the ridge that we were going to climb, we left our heavier gear in the hut and set off on our first climb in Switzerland. The Dri Horlini, or Three Horns in English, was a classic training route used by climbers practicing how to move together efficiently or training for bigger routes such as the Hornli ridge on the Matterhorn. We opted for approach shoes again, or in Jing Yang’s case, a new pair of trail runners with sticky soles that he had bought in Chamonix.
This turned out to be the first really good climb of the trip, with steep slabs, wildly exposed ridges and downclimbs and non-trivial routefinding. The climbing never felt too challenging or out of our comfort zones and yet it wasn’t boring or overly straightforward. It’s difficult to find this Goldilocks zone of climbing challenge in the alpine but when you do it’s really something special. We passed by a trio of Dutch climbers on the way up, before being forced to navigate a loose and scary descent gully which we almost didn’t manage to find in the fading twilight. The descent snapped me out of my climbing reverie as I started to feel the twinges of that now painfully familiar stabbing in my knee. My ITBS was acting up again and with a vengeance. It got worse and worse as I reached the hut and by the time we got there I felt like I could barely bend my leg. I was feeling utterly betrayed by my body, reeling from both the pain in my knee and the disappointment of not being able to do the climbs that we had planned. I could barely muster up the will to help Jing Yang to prepare dinner and we made the wise decision to postpone our camping plans and sleep in the hut instead.
In the morning, we woke up at 8am, with the hut to ourselves as all the other climbers had left hours before on their climbs (the proverbial Alpine Start). I took the opportunity to cook up a big pot of oats with almond and apricots and enjoy the views with my breakfast. I still felt frustrated at my knee but the intensity of the emotion was fading slightly and I resolved to try to make the best out of the situation. I tried out some rehab exercises I found on youtube (there’s great signal at most mountain huts) and we spent the day lounging about and recuperating. In the late afternoon we found a nice looking campsite next to a lake and set up camp for the night. Because of my knee we decided to do the traverse over the Weissmies and down the normal route where we could grab the cable car down, saving 1000m of descent. However, this meant that we had to lug all of our gear up and mountain and down the other side. Still, it felt like the lesser of the two evils at that point. I was tired of hobbling down like a cripple and wanted to be whisked back to the valley floor ASAP.
Our campsite was even better than expected. It was next to a lake that flowed down to the valley, giving easy access to fresh water (through my filter) and had stunning views, with the North-Northeast and West ridges of the Weissmies stretching out before us. There was even a little bivvy spot where someone had piled up a ring of rocks to block some of the wind. In that place I truly felt like it was just us and the mountains. This had been the alpine camping experience that I had envisioned. We had a luxurious dinner of instant mushroom soup, couscous, chicken stock and comte cheese and turned in early, setting our alarms for 4am the next day.
Our phones rang before we knew it and it was time to get up. We tried our best to cook breakfast in the relative warmth of the tent before shivering in the wind as we quickly tore down camp. We started up the approach to the Rotgrat (PD+), a relatively new route that had been very generously marked with yellow paint along the entire approach, making route finding much easier in the dark. The horizon started to glow, casting the surrounding peaks in the beautiful pre dawn light known as Alpenglow.
After scrambling up a boulder field and up some gentle snow slopes, we finally reached the start of the route, where we roped up and started the climb. Some easy climbing led to the start of the ridge proper, which then stretched out for over a kilometer all the way to the summit of the Weissmies at 4013m above sea level. The climbing was never difficult, but it felt never ending, especially with the weight of the tent and sleeping bags, and it was only 3 hours later that we finished the rocky section of the ridge and had to change into our boots and crampons for the final section of snow and ice.
Slowly but surely, we made our way up the snow and some bare patches of steep ice. The altitude was getting to us and our pace slowed down even further, especially because of a traffic jam at a particularly narrow section of ice where we had to wait for climbers descending. But after what felt like forever we were at the top! Another meaningless hunk of rock and ice had been ascended. We didn’t linger too long and quickly snapped some photos before heading down. On the way down my knee started acting up again but I tried my best to ignore the pain and focused on reaching the cable car. One crazy sight I recall was seeing a man with his dog running alongside us. Only in Switzerland. After what felt like eternity weaving past crevasses and giant, menacing seracs we finally arrived and could pat ourselves on the back. Little did I know that our problems were not over yet.
We paid 30 CHF (48.5 SGD) to catch the cable car down, which saved us a thousand meters of descent and spared my knees. After getting down we headed to the nearby supermarket and grabbed a bag of chips and Rivella (the Swiss national drink) whilst we pondered our next move. My knees felt like they were busted and with the weather forecast looking iffy, we decided that this would be the end of our Swiss trip. I was quite disappointed at the time as I had hoped to do much more on this trip, with routes like the Lenzspitze-Nadelhorn traverse and the south ridge of the Lagginhorn high on my list. Alas, it was not to be, and I had to accept that and try to move on.
Here the logistics started getting messy again. Because I had a Swiss Night Travelcard, I was able to take the trains after 7pm for free, but Jing Yang wasn’t as he was above the age limit for the card (25). To lessen the pain of not being able to climb, and to make the card worth the price, I decided to head to Zermatt that night to check out the Matterhorn. This meant that we would have to split up, with Jing Yang taking on the burden of carrying most of the gear back to Chamonix. In hindsight, I believe that I was acting rather selfishly as I had left him with the unenviable task of navigating the complex transportation system whilst dealing with heavy bags and gear. Since we were a team, we should both have been responsible for putting in the work to settle the logistics and transport. I hope not to make this mistake again in the future.
That night, I arrived in Zermatt, but Jing Yang wasn’t so lucky. Due to a series of unfortunate events, he missed several connections and ended up having to pay for an overpriced hostel in a random town in Switzerland, all whilst having to carry the bags while walking for 30mins. The following day, whilst I was hiking up to the Matterhorn, he sent me a message that he was going to cut his trip short by 10 days, to the following week. I was surprised and letdown when I saw that, although I respected his decision. I had been so busy planning the logistics and minutiae of the trip that I had neglected the arguably more important task of understanding my partner’s emotional and mental state and priorities. This experience taught me that in climbing, as in life, the human connections form the bedrock of our possibilities. I would not have been able to climb anything without a partner that I trusted with my life. It was an important lesson to learn at that moment.
We met up again in Chamonix and talked about what had transpired over a dinner of overpriced cheese and bread, before catching the IFSC lead finals. After airing our thoughts and feelings, we felt more on the same page and decided to start focusing on the week ahead. The weather looked great and we were now excited to get in more climbs. Jing Yang had booked an Airbnb for the week which would be crucial to our recovery and overall mental state. I was tired of camping and didn’t feel like I could recover well enough to do back to back climbs, but with a proper kitchen, shower and bed I felt confident that we would have enough energy to climb to our hearts content.
In that week we managed to pack in four climbs and one hike, in the following order:
Mon: L’Ete Indien (6a+, 7 pitches), a fully bolted, slabby climb up Mt Oreb which had us dancing on tiny flakes and smearing on small crystals. The climb was located in the beautiful Berade valley and we were the only climbers there to enjoy the views. It was a fun day out and we felt like it was a great first climb after the suffering of the previous week. Sadly we missed the last train back but were saved by a friendly lady who graciously offered us a ride back when she saw us walking along the road.
Tues: Chapelle de la Gliere (6a, 13 pitches), our first full trad climb of the trip. This bolstered our trad climbing confidence a lot as we managed to place lots of protection and move efficiently together when needed. Absolute classic and highly recommended if you’re climbing in Chamonix. A hilarious moment occurred when we were rapping down from the last pitch and Jing Yang accidentally (with the help of the wind) threw the rope straight onto a poor climber’s head below us. However, the descent was confusing, and we ended up downclimbing a sketchy section, reminding me that the approach and descent are not to be taken lightly.
Wed: Rest
Thur: Rebuffat Pierre (6a+, 5 pitches) on the Eperon des Cosmiques. This would be Jing Yang’s first time up the Midi cable car this season and it was fitting that we would be trying a route that we had bailed off last year. This time round we were prepared, mentally and physically. We decided to rappel down after the climb and had the luxury of leaving our bags at the top of pitch 2 so that I wouldn’t have to haul it up the crux roof. I climbed past the point where we had stopped and made sure to place plenty of gear (totems are a lifesaver). When I reached the roof I hooked my knee around a rock spike and clipped one of the two bolts helpfully placed there, before pulling myself up and over. We had done it!
Climbing is as much a mental sport as it is a physical one. Things that felt impossible can suddenly be within reach if you take it one step at a time. A great way to approach climbs is to ‘climb until you can’t go further’. Meaning to climb one move at a time, always assessing your position and level of discomfort, and knowing when to back off or when the danger is too high. This has the added benefit of both trying things that you believe are too difficult but are actually within your capabilities, as well as always knowing what the risks are and when it is a good time to retreat, both important skills for any climber.
Unfortunately, we were unable to finish the climb as we got blockaded by a group of French soldiers on a training climb that were moving too slowly for us to make the cable car back if we waited for them. When Jing Yang proposed to rappel down after the fourth pitch, I was initially hesitant, but after remembering the shit that he had gone through because of me I readily acquiesced and we were soon back in the valley eating burritos.
Fri: The New Piola Route (6c, 7 pitches), on the South Face of the Brevent, our last and hardest route. The climbing was amazing, crimpy, technical, with roofs, slabs and all amazingly well protected with shiny new glue in bolts. It was a blisteringly hot day and Jing Yang became dehydrated after an admirable lead through the 6c crux on pitch 4, so I led the next two 6b pitches. It was a great way to end the trip together, with some hard climbing high up above Chamonix on a classic route. When I pulled through the last move I was already sad that the climbing was over. It had been a wild week, where we had climbed more rock than almost the whole of last season.
After Jing Yang left I hung around in Europe for awhile longer and hiked a part of the TMB with some other friends I had made on exchange last year. Now, sitting back home in sunny Singapore and looking back at this experience, it almost seems surreal that all this happened only a few months ago. It had been such a turbulent trip, with crazy highs and crushing lows. I hope to return soon and put all that I’ve learnt into practice once more. The mountains always feel so far when I’m on this little island, but they have a permanent spot at the back of my head, calling me back time and time again.
To all aspiring Alpinists, thank you for reading so far and enduring my ramblings. I’m still very new to this sport and there’s so much more for me to learn and climb. I hope that you’ve found something here that can inspire you to find your own climbs and your own mountains. Learn from your mistakes, find mentors to climb with, take things slow and stay humble and safe. I’m not special and anyone can learn how to do this with enough time and perseverance. All the best to you and happy climbing!
P.S. Thank you, Jing Yang, for being my partner and for going through all this stupid shit together with me. Here’s to many more climbs together.
P.P.S Don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any questions about climbing or alpinism or whatever! My telegram handle is @ ryan jansen (no spaces)
Written by Ryan Jansen (MIR 22)
November 2025
Leave a Reply