Ross Hewitt recalls some of his mountaineering adventures with friend and climbing companion Christophe “Tof” Henry, who died last autumn in a avalanche with guide Juan Señoret on the Puntiagudo volcano in Chile. Ross’s recollections highlight the friendship and joy shared by the two men on the slopes of the Mont Blanc massif, and in particular their training sessions on the north face of the Aiguille du Midi. It should be pointed out that these stories are set on abominable slopes encircled by rock and ice, which Tof’s communicative energy transformed into a vast living-room. Full smile before dessert.
Photo @Ross Hewitt.
Tof loved to ski first, fast and committed, just like a fighter pilot he’d realised you needed kinetic energy to get away from trouble. When you lost speed, you were vulnerable. One morning in May 2019 we planned to ski Col du Plan. It had snowed the afternoon before plastering the face so while we expected good skiing, we also expected to have to deal with some surface instabilities but nothing out of the ordinary. The plan was to go to the true col and evaluate the snow with the security of a rope.
After arriving at Aiguille du Midi on the first lift of the day, I got my skis on first in the tunnel and made those nice turns on the north face and headed along the ridge which was fairly wavy. Tof came tearing past and indicated he would try Tournier. I’d barely said ‘if that goes it will be big’ when Tof triggered a massive slab down to the glacier ice before he reached the spine. My phone was soon ringing with Tof saying:
‘I need you Bro’
“Its not that simply” I replied. “It ripped to the ice and I need to wait for someone with another 60 m rope and build and anchor”
Massive slab failure on Tournier Spur. Tof is visible at the upper right fracture. Photo @Ross Hewitt.
For a moment I stood pondering whether to go or insist Tof climb up. I knew the rest of the face would be good away from the overloaded summit ridge and after a couple minutes Bird appeared with a rope. I put to myself to work digging down 1.5 m to the ice for an abolokov and rapped in to join Tof at the spine who was more than happy to see me. For a few seconds we enjoyed the sun before refocusing on the skiing. The spine was this beautiful curtain of smooth snow that skied beautifully to the top of the couloir. After the top abseil into the couloir we skied down towards what used to be a small rap into the exit couloir. There, much to our delight we found there was a 1 m wide strip of snow and white ice through the chimney connecting the upper and lower couloirs.
Bird had a day of contemplation up there on the Midi Plan ridge of Mama Midi following the sudden death of one of his friends.( He stayed up so long and lost track of time with his phone dead and he missed the bin down, so when I couldn’t find him in town or phone him I got the PG to go look – and then at 2030 he suddenly appeared after they ran a cable car down for some workers).
Tof had that wild look in his eyes and that pearly white smile revealing to me what he had in mind before committing his skis to the fall line. On the steep white ice, without any deep snow to provide resistance, he rocketed from 0-60 mph before disappearing in a explosion of powder as he slammed his skis sideways to shut it down. Now it was my turn and I had to force memories of Fransson breaking a binding here and headbutting the wall out of my head.
Andreas Fransson, 1983-2014, Swedish, steep skier and mountaineer who liked to train on the north face of the Aiguille du Midi. Died in Monte San Lorenzo (Chile) with Canadian JP Auclair 1977-2014.
I aimed for the untouched snow below, and Tof was just a flash as I passed him, immediately slamming my skis sideways and entering the white rom with every fibre straining to shut it down. As the powder settled Tof was laughing his head off. ‘I though you were going to stop above and you went past so fast!’. “You didn’t leave me any room!”
Over the years we skied many runs together, I skied more runs on the Midi North Face with Tof that anyone else, always enjoying the good spirit we felt in each other, our mutual hedonistic nature would mean we would celebrate when we did things well, but we could also take the feedback from the mountain when we needed to go away and come back fitter and stronger. We also shared a similar modus operandi on the mountain – stay focused and keep the guard up, go fast, minimise exposure time and relax afterwards at the bar. People we encountered on the mountain may have mistaken that side as cold or unfriendly but Tof had a gentle loving nature away from the mountain or the dangers of other skiers following behind that was obvious when you saw him playing with with his son Jules. When you skied with Tof you were sure being skied on wasn’t going to be an issue he was going to stand up tall and make it absolutely clear to any teams thinking of skiing the same line that they would give us plenty of space.
Then Covid came and France probably had the harshest lock downs of any country and it varied regionally with the powers that be in Chamonix deciding they wanted to keep everyone off the mountains so avoid ICU beds being taken for accidents. We were allowed out of our houses for 1 hour a day, but had to stay within a 1 km radius and not gain more than 100 m height. I live right next to a police accommodation so it was pointless trying to evade capture and spent most of the time in the garden enjoying the winter heatwave and drinking whiskey sours. We certainly didn’t miss any good skiing.
The next winter it snowed and snowed. Once again France fell into lockdowns but people had a little more freedom, Pros could train for unlimited amounts of time outside and by then the mountain rescue were fed up enforcing lock down regulations. But they kept the lifts shut and tried to say it was illegal to go to Switzerland to ride lifts. We got really fit that winter ski touring from the valley floor for multiple 1000 m forest laps and up into the high mountains. On May 19th France would celebrate its restart with the opening of one its biggest tourist attractions, the Aiguille du Midi. Things looked good up there with some new snow and lines well filled in.
Mallory 2021 – Tof in red, Seth on the crux and myself in turquoise. Photo @Ross Hewitt.
Of course that morning there would be delayed opening for snow clearing but that was expected after a 7 month closure! Mont Blanc Radio were there and grabbed Tof, Pappy and myself to share some of our emotions about the reopening, which we were more than happy to do as we waited. Finally it was go time and we followed the usual ritual at the mid station buckling boots and being ready to make the dash from the cable car to snow cave and click into skis and get away from the clingons (people following). At the summit station, the cabin doors slid open and we stampeded out past this very glamorous TV network anchor and her camera man hoping for a live interview. Not today Love, as the cockneys would say. The Mallory was incredible and easy to ski through from the diagonal to the final snowfield.
In May 2023 the snow was falling in abundance in the Mont Blanc range and things were starting to shape up for what would become one of the best steep skiing seasons at 4000 m. Tof and myself were excited about the possibilities at altitude but also psyched to milk the most out of Midi lift access freeride while conditions held down to 3000 m. Riding the Midi cable car one sunny morning we were ‘energised’ about the day ahead in a way everyone is at the start of a mega powder day. Tof was optimistic that the snow would have stuck to the 100 m of steep, un-edge-able glacier ice at the top of the Mallory, enabling an enchainment of Mallory, Eugster and Col du Plan. I was highly sceptical that the cold snow had stuck there and Tof was making me nervous as I tried to envisaged what the maximum distance of 60º ice you could diagonally straightline before making the unintentional jump to lightspeed, assuming you didn’t straddle one of those punjabi sticks coming out of the ice.
I hate that kinda thing first turn in the morning, uncentered with the mind in control, body cold, having barely made a turn and blasting into the shady light of the north face. It also not a clean straightline as the glacier ice is peppered with punjabi sticks that supported the rope on the arete several decades ago. Chatter sideways a few inches and you’d be fucked. As it was I needn’t have worried, with the cable car approaching the top station it became obvious the Mallory entry was still in need of snow.
So we switched focus to another favourite run, the Tournier Spur start to Col du Plan. The main feature is a steep spine undercut by hanging seracs with a beautiful diagonal ramp into the bowl of Col du Plan and its broken exit couloir down to the glacier. The first turns out of the Midi tunnel were sublime on cold, sluffy powder and we had smiles on our faces knowing it was going to be good. At the top of the spine I gave Tof a fist pump before he went off full commitment into the shady austerity of the north face, outrunning his sluff and lower down in the bowl, plumes of powder blown up in the air and catching the early morning sun. It was as good as it gets and at the anchor Tof was pumped full of energy.
Afterwards, approaching the final step, we could see the snow in the exit couloir looked immaculate, albeit with the usual off camber that makes it tricky to shred fast and stay in front of your sluff. Tof offered me the straightline, but now with a few more years on the clock, discretion was the better part of valour. In his element Tof launched into the couloir at warp speed, using all of his power to keep it together. That was really something to see and I thought here’s a man just coming to his best, discovering the balance to power, strength, skill and knowledge when to unleash it all. Back at the midstation by 930 we decided to go for a second run and with Douds Charlet leaving his rope in place for us we were back at the cafe after an even faster run for 1030. It was still too early to drink beer so we had an Orangina.
Now it was time to be patient and see if Mallory would come good for a training run before the harder routes in the mountains. The weather continued to cloudy and snowy with barely a window when we saw a couple of hours brightness forecast. Riding the tram through dense cloud at the bottom and top of the face left us with some doubts. We made those turns on the north side of the arete to check the snow and hummed and hawed whether to go or not. There was a window there but it looked like it was going to close quickly and getting lost on the Mallory in a white out wouldn’t be cool. As they say hindsight is a glorious thing and at that moment in time there was no way to know how long the window would last.
We did know it was nearing the end for skiing at this altitude and the next storm could rain way up the face. ‘Lets go’ I said, getting impatient. Tof replied “We go fast” and was about to straightline over the ice when he sensed something wrong. Looking down at his binding, the stopper was bent downs into the snow. We spent a few minutes fixing that and elected to abseil 75 m over the ice with 2 ropes tied in series to the escaper at the abolovov. I went down on crampons first to check the snow was deep enough at the end of the rope before Tof slid down the ropes quickly on skis. Now as precious minutes were slipping away, we found our rope stuck.
Unbelievable, how did this happen to us, and we laughed at the irony of it happening on the cleanest of abseils. Luckily for us Kristo Baud had seen us from the cabin and came and threw down the rope. In the past we had skied mallory in 25 minutes and here we were only 80 m in the same amount of time! We were optimistic that the rest would go fast. The shoulder skied well, the couloir was slabby, the diagonal icy and lower isothermal. We laughed at taking longer to ski Mallory than speed ascents but the team was working together like well oiled machine and those type of days work your core so hard and get you ready for the bigger days. This time the sun was over the yardarm so we went for a quiet beer and I introduced Tof to partner and daughter and talked about future plans in Chile and New Zealand.
Photo @Ross Hewitt.
Mont Blanc’s West Face – the Benedetti
Earlier that season I had skied Petit Mont Blanc’s Aigle Couloir and seen that the Benedetti on Mont Blanc’s West Face was close to being good. Back in 2015 I’d skied the Saudan in powder as part of a 10 day triology project that included the Matterhorn and Brenva Spur. I still rate the Saudan as one of the finest ski mountaineering objectives anywhere, but I suspected the wide open hanging snowfield on the Benedetti would surpass it with a big pair of modern skis. So one sunny afternoon late in May we sat on the deck at the historic Grand Mulets refuge drinking the beer they brew onsight there and joking around. In huts its always nice to have some space around you when you sleep and checking out the dormitory to find the best bunks I joked ‘hey Tof this double bed has your name carved on it – Christophe – no wait, its actually that famous alpinist Christophe Profit!’
We got up at 1 am with all the groups going up Mont Blanc so that we could get away and not be bottled necked behind slower teams on the Gouter Ridge. Our training had payed off and we were moving fast under ink black skies. Way too fast as it turned out and we arrived at Vallot hut in the frosty night and wrapped ourselves in blankets and waited for the warming rays of dawn. We started the bootpack on the Bosses Ridge when the sun rose behind Mt Maudit and warmed our extremities.
Leaving the Vallot hut at dawn in anticipation of the sun’s warming rays. Photo @Ross Hewitt
It was a beautiful windless day and we sat on the summit together imagining all the possibilities around us. Finally at 9 am Tof was getting impatient and we decided to go, skiing down the west side of the summit ridge passing the early season alpinists until we arrived at the Tournette. The snow felt good, soft but not too much. Tof’s eyes met mine for confirmation ‘We go?’ “Let’s do it” I replied and off we went down one of the biggest runs you can find anywhere in the World. The first pitch is 1200m of sustained 50 degree skiing and thats followed by another 1000 m of 40/45 degree terrain to the Miage Glacier.
The upper hanging snowfield lived up to expectations of being wild, sustained, open and exposed with amazing scenary of the West Couloir seracs to the left and Petit Mont Blanc’s massive 1200 m couloirs facing us but dwarfed in comparison well below. We followed our intuition to find the connecting ramp and on cue spotted a metal stake confirming we were in the right place. We glided across the ramp and entered the lower snowfield where hard glassy snow needed full concentration but the angle was under 50 degrees now and we had our eye in now after and hour or two of skiing.
We’d been on the go for 10 hours and fatigue was building, but as we descended from nealry 5000 m there was more oxygen and our muscles gained strength. After exiting the face we regrouped on the saddle next to remote Quintino Sella hut. Tof was ecstatic and I could tell he was very proud of that one. As he gave me a big bro bear hug nearly squeezing the life out of me he said ‘ we did good huh?!’ For a minute we looked at the massively foreshortened face above savouring the moment before turning our backs and continuing the descent to the Combal refuge and road head. Here we were pleasantly surprised to find the refuge had changed hands and was now open to the public. It didn’t take long for Tof to charm the guardian Ingrid with his outrageously good looks and infectious smile and she very kindly gave us water made us a sandwich to enjoy while we hung out at the refuge for the afternoon. By late afternoon her work was done and she drove us to Courmayeur where we just had time to squeeze in a pizza and a pint before catching the bus back to Chamonix.
After skiing the Benedetti on Mont Blanc’s West Face. Photo @Ross Hewitt
The snow kept coming despite being into June when most people were thinking of board shorts, bikes and the beach. Our sights now shifted to the coveted Beaumont-Decorps or Maudit Diagonal that had first been skied by Benedetti in 1983. I’d been eyeing this all winter and for once there weren’t any icy streaks on the steepest sections after the spines. We headed to the Cosmiques Refuge and had a great apero on the deck eating cheese and saucisson washed down with a few beers. Conditions on the Trois Monts was good and the hut had a few teams heading that way to Mont Blanc so we hoped there would be some help breaking trail.
On Maudit we were out in front in boot deep powder and our toes seriously complaining in the predawn freeze We waited for the alpinists to catch up and suggested they take over trail breaking. ‘But we don’t know where we are going’ they replied. “f@cks sake, you couldn’t make that up” I thought and we continued on with cold feet. It was bitterly cold on Col de la Brenva and we pulled on our down jackets and warm gloves before the sweat of the climb chilled us. The sun rose spectacularly behind the Grand Jorasses and as Tof prepared to drop I looked over the edge and saw it hadn’t snowed at all on this side of Maudit. Time to pull the plug. It made a nice photo though.
Tof Entering the Maudit Diagonal at dawn. Photo @Ross Hewitt
