The Cassin Route on the Piz Badile by Louisa Reynolds

By Louisa Reynolds

It is always a question I find tricky, what is your favourite route? There is a sea of favourites, all with their individual reasons why. Sometimes it is a favourite because of the adventure and mishaps you encountered, which always make for a good story. Other times it is about the climbing partnership and comradery. In some situations, it is because of an incredible sunrise. In others, purely because the climbing was amazing. On one hand it is because you climbed a classic line, or your hardest line, or the biggest line. On the other hand, it is the incredible walk in or an impressive bivouac. Occasionally it is because you experienced the worst bivouac or the hardest walk out ever. Strange as it may sound, these hard times can often be reflected on as the best times, the times, where you learnt the most and ultimately grew the most. I try and draw on this thought during times like these, in a global pandemic with fear and uncertainty. I try to remember that hard times I have experienced in the past have made me stronger, it is often just working out which way to look at the situation, to see that.

For my favourite Alpine route, I have chosen The Cassin on the Piz Badile, because my experience on this mountain, has given me nearly all the above mentioned reasons why, in one route.

The Piz Badile is situated on the boarder of Switzerland and Italy in the Bregaglia Alps. This area combines Swiss efficiency with Italian food and atmosphere. The peak is striking and alluring. Its sharp outline, carved out by sweeping, steep slabs of strong Granite. It is listed as one of the Six major north faces and it was to be my first. I still believe it has some of the most consistently good granite rock climbing of any Grand Course I have climbed. Solid and varied. On a par with the West Grat on the Salbitjen.

Where to begin? I will get the terrible bivouac out of the way first. We arrived in the Bregaglia following a very long drive from North Wales. None the less, bubbling with enthusiasm and a good weather forecast ahead, we thought we would try and do both Pizzo Cengalo and the Piz Badile. However, Cengalo at this time in a very dry season, was guarded by an impassable glacier. The result of which meant an impromptu bivouac under a large boulder at its base, a somewhat chilly and uncomfortable night. In the morning we concurred that our objective didn’t look safe to climb or approach, there were many more rock fall concerns, so we headed for the valley. Back in the valley we unpacked, reassessed the weather and decided that tomorrow was the best time to do the Cassin Route on the Piz Badile. However, we had barely slept, and most people would already be in position at a Bivouac near the face or at the hut by now. Conditions were excellent, the route was bone dry, it was bound to be busy. We were determined not to waste another day of sunshine, so we repacked and stole a few hours much needed sleep during the heat of the afternoon, departing for the route at midnight. It was a beautiful, calm, starlit night and the walk in seemed to fly by. Anticipation and excitement keeping us alert. It felt great to sneak past the hut in the early hours while a few climbers were maybe just stirring. We passed the bivouac spots close to the entry shelf onto the face, no one seemed to be around. We were on the route first.

The month prior to this Will and I had regularly met after work to prepare for this alpine trip. Together we practised simul climbing up and across crags like the Idwal Slabs. Once again, we got into the flow, covering ground steadily and quietly, unaware of much other than our little pool of light. A couple of other pools of light now approached and as we paused to figure out the route, they swiftly snuck past us. They seemed to know where they were going. We followed on, lapping up the easier pitches until daylight broke. Sunrise flooded the valley and even some of the face with a welcome, warm red glow. Space, lots of space beneath our feet as we tiptoed across edges and slabs, cracks and chimneys. We changed back to pitched climbing as the difficulty increased, nearing the crux. Teams piled up below, maybe 40 or more, and we thanked each other for the early start ensuring a reasonable position in the queue. The upper section of the route channels into chimneys which lead to more broken ground near the top. Will had taken over on the sharp end, to block lead this section. While he dispatched the pitches, I was tussling on the blunt end with the rucksack. As I was wriggling my back up against one of the walls in an insecure back and foot position, I heard a click and then a thud. I looked around to watch one of my approach boots which had been clipped on my harness, tumbling down past a few angry looking climbers and into the abyss. I shouted down to them, a little too late. Cursing my stupidity, I checked the other shoe, placing it onto one of the few screw gate karabiners we had. I continued shuffling up to the belay where I relayed the problem to Will, who was already chuckling, seemingly relaxed about the whole debacle. He kindly offered me one of his rock shoes to walk off in, so my toes would be more comfortable and assured me it would be ok. Following this trip Will also kindly bought me a present, a locking snap gate karabiner. It always brings a smile to my face when I use it, reminiscing this experience. We summited, tired and relieved but in equal measure, ecstatic about the climbing. Due to our fatigue and the stories of difficulties that arise from abseiling down the North Ridge we chose to descend the south side into Italy. I remember nodding off on a few occasions waiting at the top of an abseil, having told Will not so long ago, not to be tired. I was taking my turn now. I think it is a great thing, on Alpine routes, how you never both seem to struggle at the same time. This enables you to metaphorically ‘carry’ each other at different stages.

We practically passed out next to the hut on arrival and the following day, hobbled out, the short way down to the valley. Another team had taken pity on my one trainer, one climbing shoe combination, so offered to split the taxi ride with us and came down the same way. The bloke in the partnership was a Guide, on holiday with his partner. I remember being delighted, when he called me strong girl. The alternative route, which would have taken us directly back to the car, would have ascended another high pass, apparently strewn with large boulder fields and scree slopes, unappealing in my footwear. When we arrived back at the cars a sense of pure contentment and satisfaction greeted us. We had climbed our first North Face, a brilliant route with a collection of amusing and fond memories woven into it. I had lots of fun on the mountain and I have had fun reflecting on it. Thanks Jenny for asking me to write and bring it all back to life again.