After taking a few photos and videos, we begin our descent. We briefly consider ascending the second peak, Pointe Durand. But after a quick consultation, we decide to continue our descent instead. The route looks like a massive scree slope, and that doesn’t appeal to us. So, we head further down—first along a beautiful snow ridge, then across the Glacier des Violettes. We aren’t roped up yet, but that changes quickly. The first crevasses come into view, signaling that it’s time to get the rope out of the pack. We rope up and continue descending. We spot tracks leading to a small plateau; that’s where the first rappel will be. Our hunch is right, and we rappel down a steep rock face. Next comes a fairly flat stretch of glacier, and we soon reach the longer rappel. We team up with a French group here. This allows all four of us to use the same ropes, helping us descend quickly. Another flat section of glacier follows. This makes for an enjoyable and varied descent. At no point do we face those long, tedious stretches of trudging through snow. After this snowfield, we climb up a rocky section using a fixed rope and arrive at the final rappel point. We initially consider down-climbing it, but it quickly starts looking a bit too tricky. So, we decide to rappel after all. At the rappel point, we run into a guide and his client and strike up a conversation. The guide is a cheerful fellow, and we share a few laughs. They reach the bottom first, and we watch him sliding down the snow on his backside. What a character! We follow them, and soon we, too, are off the snow and onto the hiking trails. The risky sections are behind us. I quickly fill my bottle with water from the stream and stow away our climbing gear. After all, we think, it’s just a hiking trail from here on out… But just before reaching the valley, we come across the notorious ridge we had been warned about. The cheerful guide had also reminded us that the trek wasn’t over yet. We climb down the ridge and end up in a riverbed. Here, we completely lose the route. There isn’t a shred of logic to be found anywhere. A little further on, the river turns into a waterfall; we’re surrounded by steep cliffs—what a hassle! I’m getting increasingly grumpy. Battling your way down a mountain is part of the game, but on a hiking trail? We check the GPS, and it seems the route actually lies above the rocks. But climbing another few vertical meters of rock doesn’t look like the logical thing to do. Still, we climb up anyway, and sure enough, we spot the path again. Relieved, we continue our descent, though there are still a few steep sections we have to climb down. But then, finally, we really are in the valley.

We can laugh about our harrowing adventure now. We stroll leisurely back to the car and flop down in the parking lot. We’ve been out for thirteen and a half hours—what a day. But what a wonderful day; it had a bit of everything. I felt nothing but joy. I really needed this climb—both physically and mentally.

It was the first time Rogier and I climbed together. Yet it felt as though we’d been climbing together for years. No arguments, just fun and high spirits—and safety was the top priority. We had planned to take turns carrying the rope, but I ended up keeping it with me all day. Sometimes, it’s these little quirks that make the day.