Paul Bonhomme explores ‘De l’autre coté du ciel’ on Tête d’Eslucis in the Écrins

De l’autre coté du ciel… I had this image on my phone, a screenshot of a face I had spotted while getting lost exploring maps four years ago. No information, no photos, but a virtual visualization that seemed magical to me, with folds in every direction and a route winding through these folds as if to enter the mountain, completely.

On January 16, on my way home, I thought I would go check it out. As it was impossible to see the face, it was also impossible to get information about the conditions. So I thought: I will go for a stroll in the mountains; that already will be great.

At 9 am I park my car in the small hamlet of Réallon; there is not a speck of snow on the ground, and the local farmers give me a strange look as I load my rucksack with skis, rope, ice axes, etc. An hour later, still no snow... I enter the gorge thinking it will make for good training. Then, little by little, I distinguish the start of the line I had in mind. There's not much, but there is some, and anyway, it’s already stunning and wild, absolutely wild.

After battling with the brambles and crossing the stream several times, I find myself at the base of the face. Then something crazy: a wall, a small couloir that enters into it with an icefall at its base. The conditions are dry, so I don't have any apprehensions regarding avalanches; however, the wind at altitude continuously sends spindrift down the line.

Since I know I’m not at risk, I decide to go take a look. I ascend the icefall for about thirty meters and enter the first couloir, wide and not too steep. I climb up to where it branches off to the left, and there, I’m greeted with a cold shower in every sense of the word: the wind sends tons of powdery snow down at me. It works its way up into my sleeves. The crux of my envisaged line is a complicated mixed wall about thirty meters high, constantly swept by impressive spindrift.

I climb a branch to the right to take shelter and contemplate descending: the line is not in condition, and the wind is really violent; I'm struggling to stand straight and can't even take my rucksack off. What should I do? I look at the image from four years ago, and I notice something to my right; maybe there’s enough snow there? Aside from being shaken a bit by the wind, I'm not at risk, and I have time. So I decide to let the mountain guide me.

I descend a bit, bypass a small spur, and realise it’ll work out. On the other side of the sky... a beautiful, not too steep, and skiable slope continues. In the image, I imagine crossing over and reaching another couloir to the right. I traverse across... but access to the couloir is impossible.

A tongue of snow ascends higher, seeming to disappear and come up against a cliff. I decide to see what it’s about. I climb the sliver of snow, which indeed disappears at a small gap; I let myself be guided once again.

Upon reaching the top, I peek over, and there it is: the couloir that seemed impossible to reach is now about ten meters below me; access appears easy, a quick downclimb on fairly solid rock with plenty of holds. That’s how I reach this magnificent couloir that leads into a gully to the right, completely within the folds of the mountain. It’s majestic.

At the top of this, once again, the way upwards isn’t obvious. Everything seems blocked by steep cliffs, and I see only rock everywhere. I take out my precious image again and notice that there might be a ramp heading to my left, in order to reach a final couloir that would lead me to the summit. I head left and find the ramp; it’s narrow but it works! At the top of the ramp, a full-throttle traverse to the right leads me into the wide couloir that takes me almost to the summit. A final, highly exposed traverse, but not too steep, to the left and then to the right, finally brings me to the summit slope, which is quite dry.

As for the descent? The wind has calmed down now, and all I have to do now is follow my footsteps...

by Paul Bonhomme

De l’autre coté du ciel, On the other side of the sky, north face of the Tête d'Eslucis, 2764m, Réallon, Écrins, France. Proposed grade: 5.3 / 650m / between 45 and 50°, sections 5.

Links: FB Paul Bonhomme, Instagram Paul Bonhomme
Paul Bonhomme thanks: Camp - Cassin, Karpos, SCARPA