[gentle music]
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In memory of all the great alpinists who made their mark on history,
and wore down their fingers on this incomparable granite.
They are testament to man’s desire to push beyond our limits.
Didier Berthod, Swiss rock climber.
[music intensifies]
[music continues]
Our first meeting with Guillaume dates back to 2017.
We crossed paths on the Innominata Ridge.
We started chatting on the way up and realised
we had a similar approach to mountaineering, and we got on well.
And afterwards, we did the entire guides training together.
That's when we really became close friends.
He’s a friend I do big routes with
in the mountains, and have a good time.
With Lucien, what we really enjoy is being in the mountains together,
not talking too much and just moving forward.
These are the sensations that we, Guillaume and I love that feeling
seeing the summit getting nearer, reaching the top. Saying to ourselves: Come on,
let’s push hard, speed up, in 3 or 4 hours, we’re back down.
Most of the time, if we can get home the same evening, that’s even better.
And we love that.
Setting off at 2 or 3 in the morning and being back in the valley
by midday – those are really great moments.
[footsteps patter]
One day, while tidying up the barn in Lavancher,
we found some old photos.
In an old chest, we opened a drawer, and suddenly, we’re transported.
Yes, a leap back in time.
A journey through time – we rummage, we find a shirt collar, a detachable collar.
A notebook – it’s really moving.
His watch.
And then, at the back of the drawer, the only thing neatly placed there,
probably by Alphonse Couttet long ago – these
photos, this treasure, these stunning pictures.
The ones of the installation of the Virgin of The Grépon.
But discoveries like this connect the present to the past.
It’s quite a find, isn’t it, Lucien? A truly moving one.
When Fabienne mentioned the photos she found in the barn,
the coincidence was just too perfect.
It echoed an idea Lucien had been thinking of for years:
the idea of visiting these Madonnas.
This idea came to me after my bivouac at the summit of the Grépon
in 2016, which really left an impression on me because it was really special
as I say, out of time.
And I thought: These little statues add something,
a soul to the summit.
And then I realised: There are seven of them in the massif.
It would be an incredible journey to connect these statues.
Starting from Courmayeur, beginning with the Noire de Peuterey, and then
crossing towards Switzerland – Italy, Switzerland –
with the Petit Clocher du Portalet.
And then finishing with the Grépon, before going down to Chamonix.
You've sold it to me, I'm in.
Beyond just thinking: Okay, we're going
on a great alpine adventure, a mountain trip
like we love, we also have the chance to go on a truly
meaningful journey, to find out what lies behind these figures.
We want to uncover their mystery.
If you're up for it...
Lucien.
A few months before the expedition.
Then I found another one, an aerial photo where it's not very big,
but you can see the face and you're quite close, and you can see the Verte behind.
It's interesting.
There are some summits where, as soon as you reach the top,
there’s a story, a sense of intimacy, a beauty, a presence.
Why was there this whole question around the Madonnas,
or everything they wanted to do?
With everything that was going on back then
It's hard to compare with today. Life in the valley back then
was a tough life.
So everything was often shared.
We forget that there was a time when the mountains
were seen as places of demons—people wouldn’t set foot in them.
Glaciers were seen as man-eaters.
The people here were poor, they were farmers,
not mountaineers at all.
For instance, imagine believing that there are ghosts in Mont Blanc.
Going there back then was nothing like going there today.
Even though, as far as we know, there are no ghosts.
There’s a folklore that’s been forgotten, because apart from people who go up there,
no one remembers these stories anymore,
let alone what they looked like.
But it’s true there isn’t a lot known about this documentation
Catherine Destivelle wrote a short piece
about the Virgin of the Drus.
[gentle music]
It's actually quite international.
There are quite a few Slovenians, Czechs, Russians, and Polishs.
Scan the photos.
They mustn’t be lost. These photos are really moving.
There are four of them, they're in the Nantillons.
They went via the Nantillons.
They took turns carrying the Virgin.
They need to be digitised, so they’re not lost.
Or maybe taken to a museum.
We are the witnesses, and it’s up to us to pass on
what happened before.
[gentle music]
Alright, Lolo, see you later.
[gentle music]
To me, the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey
is one of the most beautiful.
It's one of the most characterful mountains in the sequence.
Because there isn’t really an accessible face
It’s a striking triangular mountain, black,
made of rock, pure granite.
Even the normal route is difficult to reach, and that’s
and that’s what makes it so special.
We knew it was going to be a big challenge.
We were happy to start there.
Let's go.
Here we go.
Come on, "Vamos".
We started climbing at night, tackling the first ramps,
which were very damp, covered in wet moss.
We encountered a lot of ice, a lot of black ice.
So we really had to work hard.
[gentle music]
I haven’t even had a bite of my energy bar since we started, I’m still feeling good.
We’ll take a proper break once we’re out of this mess.
The mountain is austere.
This isn’t what we do everyday
we're just surviving up there.
We go for the pleasure of it, we go, but sometimes,
it would be nice to be back down already.
[inspiring music]
The higher we climbed, the more snow there was.
Until we reached the final third,
where we were practically sinking
up to our waists with every step.
I've always been intrigued by it, and I've always had
a particular feeling when reaching one of these summits with the Madonnas.
I had the feeling of truly
standing in front of someone.
[inspiring music]
It’s a face that one might call altered.
Yet, "Sainte Vierge" is an anagram of "le visage inaltéré" (the unaltered face).
And so, there is this idea of purity that remains, even though the conditions
these poor Madonnas endure, I'm talking about the weather
are sometimes far from comfortable.
High five, mate!
Yes, mate! Oh, bloody hell.
Top. Beautiful.
Well done, my Guigui.
Blimey.
There are some places where you're happy to have been there
but also happy not to stay.
Because bad weather is coming and all that, and you think: Poor thing,
she’s going to stay there all alone.
I think at some point, you humanise her so much that she’s no longer
just a piece of metal – she’s a lady.
And in a way, when we descend and we leave her behind.
I think subconsciously, we tell ourselves: "We're leaving her up there."
But at the same time, that’s her role – to be a kind of altitude beacon,
a sign of our presence.
Life isn’t up there with her, it’s down below.
So we have to keep going.
That’s true.
We’ll abseil down using a series of short,
well-equipped 30-metre-descents.
From there, we’ll head down towards the Dames Anglaises.
Then we downclimbed the couloir to reach the Brenva Glacier
an go back to Courmayeur.
And there it is, the first Madonna.
The old-timers used mules,
there were seven of them carrying it.
They really started from the valley, climbing up through the alpine pastures.
Then they bivouacked, before continuing to the summit.
It was really a long process.
And in the same spirit, to honour them, we’re not going to take
a car or a cable car to reach these summits.
After a few hours of rest, we set off beneath Helbronner, under the Skyway.
[gentle music]
We get to the old refuge, then at the new Torino refuge,
where we get a warm welcome from the guardian.
This scene is pretty incredible because we arrive, we
start chatting with the guardian of the Torino refuge,
who is really kind, and we tell him that we’ve come from the Noire de Peuterey
and we’re heading to the Dent du Géant,
and that our project is to link all seven Madonnas of the Massif.
And then he looks at us with huge eyes and says:
"But do you know what?"
"The last Madonna, I was who put it in its’ place."
We say: "What?!"
That Madonna is one of the oldest in the massif.
That’s impossible.
It was in 1904.
That was when the first ones climbed up in 1904.
You know, it says: "Group of Courmayeur guides
who carried the statue of the Virgin to the Dent du Géant."
Yeah. Do you have any names or not really?
Here, they’re Brocherel, Petigax.
The historic names of Courmayeur.
And in the end, we realised they had replaced it
because it had been struck by lightning.
The last time the Virgin was replaced,
was in 2009 – we changed the Virgin.
It spoils a little bit of the mystery, and we realise: actually,
they haven’t been there since time immemorial – they are
maintained and replaced over time.
We decided to do something with a few guides.
There were five or six of us from Courmayeur.
There were also three police officers.
My son, who was 16 at the time, was there too,
and we had decided to take things into our hands.
We spoke with Luigi Glarey, who told us a bit about the history.
He said: We're trying to do this.
We could have done it differently,
not exactly as they did back then, but we could have
carried the second part together, brought the Virgin up.
I think the Madonnas in the Aosta Valley, they’re everywhere.
Back then, people believed more than they do now, I think.
Whether in Valais, in Italy, in the Aosta Valley, or even elsewhere,
like in the Chamonix Valley,
I think it was exactly the same.
It’s really a story of protection, it’s truly
a story of community.
Experiencing this, hearing the story of someone who climbed up
and played a part in these little statues, was truly incredible.
We set off around 3 or 4 in the morning.
Good refrozen conditions, so with Guillaume,
we pick up the pace on the glacier.
We reach the base of the mountain earlier than expected and start
climbing in the dark. There was another rope team, but we quickly pass them.
Conditions on the North Face of the Tour Ronde were excellent that day.
We reach the summit just as day breaks, with the first light of day.
[gentle music]
The Madonna of the Tour Ronde is the only one that faces the mountain,
and I had never really thought about it before,
but it’s actually quite interesting.
I believe this Madonna was placed by the Italian Alpine Club.
It’s a Madonna of the mountain rescue.
Each one has its own charm, its own personality.
Even if you're not a believer, you know that a holy virgin
is not just any woman.
She has a symbolic halo.
A symbolic halo that isn't tied to one's personal beliefs,
but one that she carries through history, through all the symbols that are
connected to her, all the stories she’s part of.
We like to think that her spirit protects us.
And so, this symbolic halo makes it possible to associate her,
out of superstition,
with a power, an effectiveness, a virtue.
We keep pushing on at pace, crossing the entire
Géant Glacier, passing near the refuge.
Then we climb up towards the Dent du Géant.
It’s also a truly iconic, legendary summit,
one that all Italians know.
Whether one is a believer or not, when we go up there, there is
always some form of questioning, even if we don’t define it.
There is a kind of reflection, especially in these vast
open spaces, under this luminous sky.
Everywhere, in all cultures, in all civilisations,
the mountains often feature as a place of spiritual elevation.
The call from above originally had an explicit
religious connotation.
It was about going up to see if, perhaps, paradise was up there.
The view is absolutely immense.
My Luciano, what can you tell us?
We were over there.
The Tour Ronde.
It was a beautiful traverse, with good refreezing.
Now we just need to drop onto the summit.
It's not far now.
It’s looking good.
[gentle music]
And in the end, we weren’t as alone with
the Madonna on the summit than we were on the Tour Ronde
or at the Noire de Peuterey.
But it was so magical to meet our friends up there and to find ourselves
all sitting in a line along the ridge.
[gentle music]
Come on, mate.
Leave it there. That’s a solid anchor.
Cool, man.
Let’s go.
Nice.
What are we doing? No hanging around?
Are you okay if we head off before you?
[music continues]
If we said we’d do it all under our own steam,
then why not
hop on the bike for a bit?
[gentle music]
Mont Dolent is the summit
that sits on the triple border.
So, there’s one face in France, one in Switzerland, and one in Italy.
Just for that alone, it’s already amazing.
The border runs right over the summit,
and they put a Madonna right there.
[panting]
[gentle music]
Ah, how classic.
Bivouac Fiorio on Mont Dolent.
[gentle music]
Mont Dolent was the same,
quite tricky because we had
rotten snow again, late spring snow,
with no support, very wet.
Even on skis, we were sinking into it,
and it was really tricky.
We're almost there, Lucien.
Venga, venga.
We'll keep that motivation to reach the Madonna.
It’s hard to see her, we can’t see the summit - it feels endless.
When we climb, I think you know this better
than anyone, we can’t wait for the summit.
And when we get there and see a Madonna, or even something else,
like a cross, for example.
There’s a sort of reversal of symmetry.
We realise that while we were waiting for the summit, in a way, it was waiting for us.
Because of an obvious cognitive bias, we get the feeling that the Madonna
is there for us, of course.
Summit of Dolent, we suffered for it.
I won’t kiss you, you’re too frozen.
She’s been struck by lightning as well.
Poor little Madonna.
At the summit, same thing—there’s fog, and a strange light
shining through, illuminating the Virgin.
It was something truly magical.
It feels inhabited by something beyond us,
something that, at the same time, protects us.
Because the Madonna is there, but we also know
she didn’t fall from the sky.
She is the presence of Man.
Who put her there?
It is Man, and it represents a man or a woman.
On each summit, there is a unique story to tell.
In fact, the story of this Madonna is truly beautiful because there were
these young Swiss, young Italians, and young French people who decided
to put this little Madonna as a plea for world peace.
The very presence of a Madonna is proof that we are not the first here.
Yet at the same time, it makes it somewhat religious
It embodies the idea that the summit is no longer entirely of this world,
yet not quite celestial either.
[gentle music]
I'm going to take inspiration from a famous novel you may know: Mount Analogue,
by René Daumal, the story of a mountain whose summit cannot be seen, because
it is hidden by gravitational effects linked to general relativity.
Space-time is so distorted by this immense, incredibly dense mountain
that light cannot connect the base to the top.
There is a mountain—you can see the foot, but not the summit.
And what René Daumal says in this unfinished novel is that,
as long as a summit is seen but not conquered,
it belongs to the realm of the heavens.
And the moment it is climbed by a human, it becomes earthly.
And so, by climbing, by scaling a mountain, we bring it down.
That’s what I love about alpinism— You could see it as
a kind of escape.
We leave ourselves behind, in a way.
But as you know better than anyone, it’s also
a place where we find ourselves.
We see the relationships we have more clearly
with those who are with us.
Alright, ciao.
[gentle music]
Now, we’re going to fly over there.
There’s fog.
Guillaume takes off, and for me, the snow is coming in.
So it’s really every man for himself. I have to go quickly.
I find myself a bit trapped.
I wonder: Am I going to manage to take off? And in the end, after good half an hour,
I finally manage to take off, flying through a thick layer of snowy clouds.
And then, all of a sudden, like in the movies, the clouds part.
And there it is - La Fouly valley. And just like that,
I'm off for more than 15 km of flight.
You know the sun is down below, so when you finally reach it,
it gives you a real burst of energy.
Yala, yala!
[gentle music]
Look at the state of the skis, there you go.
We take off at 3,600 metres and land at 1,200 metres.
We’ll aim for that bridge, and then we’ll climb back up into the forest there.
That bridge at 1,207 metres.
Which way do we go? We take this one.
Few people, even experienced alpinists, even the old names of the valley,
knew that there were seven Madonnas.
Most people thought there were only six.
We discovered this seventh Madonna thanks to Justin Marquis.
Through our research the previous autumn, we learned that he was the one who had placed
the Virgin of the Petit Clocher du Portalet,
and that it was the most recent of the seven.
It was installed in 2013.
So, naturally, we sent him a message.
And he immediately replied to our invitation.
We went to see him,
to ask him some questions in Orsières.
Six months earlier.
Hello Justin, it's Lucien, Guillaume's friend.
How are you?
Yeah, I’m good.
Just letting you know we’re arriving in Orsières, we’ll be there in about five minutes.
Hello.
How are you?
I’m good, thanks. Hey.
Lucien, hi. Nice to meet you.
How’s it going?
This is where we’ll put the slates back.
The Clocher is a mountain that has a lot of history in this valley,
with the very first climbers who went up there—the old ones,
the Cretier family, people like that.
Then later there were the first proper ascents,
including Michel Darbellay’s first ascent of the north face.
That left a mark on history.
And from there, step by step, we followed in their footsteps,
making our way up to climb it.
I had climbed the Clocher 28 times.
And when we reached the top for the 28th time, I thought:
we should bring something up here.
So I decided that on our 30th ascent, we would take something with us.
Then we made a custom base, which I had measured
on my 29th ascent.
It’s a way to honour all the alpinists who have climbed up there,
those who made ascents, and those who lost their lives.
For him, it’s a universal way,
I’d say, of giving thanks or paying tribute.
So I think it makes sense to place a small Madonna up there.
History is important to me, it means something
especially at a time when so many things are being deconstructed.
And in the end, we don’t look at history the way we should,
with enough perspective, to truly understand why people did these things
these things in their time, even if even if we no longer understand them today.
Back then, if you put up a Madonna, the person who did it
was seen as heroic.
The Church was also involved in it.
Nowadays, many people think they should be taken down, removed,
or they are seen more as objects of ridicule than of respect.
They should be protected.
We are moving beyond the religious context—whether it’s
a Madonna, a crescent moon, or if they had placed clowns at the time
because their belief was that clowns would offer protection,
these things should be preserved.
They are part of our heritage.
At the end of the day, we asked him if he’d like
to come and climb with us.
This is his favourite mountain,
he’s climbed it more than 60 times.
He knows it by heart.
It’s truly his favourite mountain, so it made perfect sense
for him to join us.
So, 8b, 8b+… If we go up, we were thinking maybe more
of the "État de choc" route.
Yeah, but it’s cool, it’s a great idea.
Would you be keen to come with us?
Absolutely, yeah. We could look at it next summer.
Have you already done "État de choc" or not?
No, "État de choc", never.
No, she did the "southeast" route. Yeah, well, cool.
Since the idea of this project is to stay roped together
the entire time and to be able to connect
the rope from start to finish.
[gentle music]
Justin, thanks for having us here.
You say it’s like your second home.
We saw the first one down in the valley. Exactly.
And this is the second one here. Yes, the second one.
If you're keen to climb "Esprit de Clocher", the name of the route itself
says everything about your project.
Yes, exactly.
It’s a legendary route that can be climbed entirely with friends.
We pulled out the guidebooks and got a proper look at the scale of the challenge
waiting for us the next day—especially since the route we had originally chosen
was completely soaked.
A shame, because it would have been a beautiful, hard crack climb.
In the end, I was quite happy about it because I wasn’t sure
if it would have been a bit too difficult for me at that time.
Breakfast at 6:30 tomorrow. Okay, yeah.
And at 7:00, we set off.
By 7:30, we’re at the base.
There’s a bit of snow here, do you think it’ll be an issue?
No, no, it’ll clear quickly. It clears fast lower down.
I think in 25 minutes, we’ll be at the base.
Then it’ll take about fifteen minutes
to reach the start of the route.
[gentle music]
It seems to me that alpinism,
when you do it, is a kind of
immersive experience where all forms of virtuality and the metaverse,
as we call it today, are completely excluded.
It’s the body that takes control again.
Alpinism is a matter of the body.
Even if the mind, as people say, or the psyche,
plays a role in determination.
[gentle music]
And encountering a symbolic body
at the summit is a real encounter.
Excellent.
We put Madonnas on the summit only when the summit is no longer virgin.
We re-virginise it by placing a Madonna there.
It’s as if we are trying to absolve ourselves of a sin.
The sin of having set foot on it. Maybe that’s it.
Great work, guys, well done. Tough but intense.
Fantastic route, intense.
That day, the conditions were absolutely perfect.
There was almost no wind at altitude, beautiful weather.
So we thought: Let’s grab the skis at the Orny hut and head back.
So we took the skis, headed towards the Trient Plateau,
and reached the Col Supérieur du Tour.
We came out at Portalet.
Lucien?
It's mystic.
We managed to take off with our paragliders, in absolutely terrible conditions.
It was snowing, even hailing at times.
We set our skis parallel, facing the Chamonix valley, and thought:
Bloody hell, this is insane! Only two summits left: the Drus and the Grépon.
Unbelievable!
We put the skis back on our backs, the wing into the bag.
We grab a quick refuel— some cheese, some ham
and set off towards the Mer de Glace.
We go down into the valley,
leaving Mont Blanc to our right.
The atmosphere on the Mer de Glace— it’s spring,
but it feels like deep autumn, like being in Tierra del Fuego.
The whole Mer de Glace area, the Envers des Aiguilles,
is rarely visited, if at all— Because it’s not the season.
There’s still a lot of snow on both the south and north faces.
Right in front of us, there’s the Aiguille Verte,
a perfect cone, with
the west pillar of the Drus standing just in front of it.
[dramatic music]
A granite monolith, like the others,
but really imposing and incredibly steep.
It has seen
many first ascents, mountaineering tragedies,
historic rescues, and more.
It’s a mountain that can be intimidating,
and it is quite difficult to climb.
1:30am the alarm hits hard.
I really believe this mountain,
whether you climb it as an amateur
or as a guide, it's a mountain that leaves its mark.
It’s not an easy one.
[dramatic music]
We climb the old-school way,
following the easiest route.
A few friends, that’s it.
I think there are a few pitons in place.
The first leader of the Madonnas,
was Charlet-Stratton, Jean-Estéril Charlet-Stratton,
who made the first ascent of the Drus.
We can’t really understand the effort of the pioneers,
because they ventured into the unknown something that, by definition, no longer exists
once they had conquered the summit.
So their experience can never be repeated.
We can do as they did, but never exactly as they did.
In other words, any ascent of this kind today
is incomparable to the experience of the pioneers, because we cannot erase
the knowledge we have gained since then it inevitably shapes
our own way of viewing the mountains.
They climbed in 1913.
The expedition was initially led by Estéril Charlet-Stratton,
but in the end, they couldn’t make it to the top.
They stopped at around 3,000 meters.
They hid the Madonna, it weighed 15 kilos.
They stashed it away in a crevice.
They went back down. Bad weather set in, so they couldn’t
go back straight away.
And in 1900—well, just after 1913— Came 1914, and war broke out.
Later, they found documents showing where they had hidden the Madonnas, and so on.
They had made some rough sketches, and eventually,
they were able to go back—but not until 1919.
And why was there all this concern about the Madonnas
or what they wanted to do?
Simply because after the war,
with all the horrors that had taken place,
religion took on an even greater significance.
They went back in 1919, but Jean-Estéril Charlet-Stratton had died in the war.
So, he was never able to return.
And it was the Ravanel family, my family, who took the lead
on the matter, found the Madonna,
and brought it up, and so on.
[dramatic music]
Woohoo!
Bloody hell, that feels good.
So cool!
Well done, my Guigui!
What do you think?
Look at her, how beautiful she is.
We can go down as far as there.
You can see where she’s looking.
She’s definitely looking towards the valley. Look at that.
She’s been struck by lightning countless times.
It was quite an emotional moment.
We’re nearing the end of our journey.
We’re exhausted, but we can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Having grown up with this mountain in front of me,
I always thought it was hard to reach, so naturally, I had never been up there.
So cool.
Do you know this mountain?
Yeah, bloody hell.
The mountain of my childhood, always in sight.
Always there on the way to Cham, straight along the Tines road, just turning my head.
Bloody hell, being up here at the summit— This feels amazing.
It really means something. Yeah, absolutely.
First time on the Drus for both of us.
Yeah.
So classy. So classy, Lulu.
[gentle music]
We can’t find the abseil anchors.
So it takes us, I’d say, probably at least two hours of going
back and forth, down, up again.
In the end, thank god for technology—because
back in the day, I imagine those old-school
guides and alpinists didn’t have FaceTime, so they couldn’t exactly
use their joker and call a friend.
And we used it.
We called the person who opened the abseil line.
We rang different guide friends who had been there before.
And thanks to that, we managed to find the first anchor.
The entire "Compagnie des Guides" was built on this—on solidarity,
on sharing knowledge, and on these values.
And this sense of protection continued even after the war.
Back then,
the person in charge of the "Bureau des Guides" on Sundays, when there were no climbs,
no expeditions, was responsible for checking
that everyone wasn’t off to the mountains but was actually attending mass.
And there was a fine if you didn’t go to mass.
The "Compagnie des Guides" funded a chaplain to hold an early mass
so that the guides could still head into the mountains afterward.
Within the "Compagnie des Guides", it’s an association.
Normally, an association is apolitical and secular.
These are the basic principles outlined in the statutes of any association.
And yet, we celebrate the 15th of August.
For over 100 years, the "Fête des Guides" has been held on the 15th of August,
in connection with the Assumption of the Virgin Mary ascending to heaven.
Because we, too, climb to the summits of mountains.
If, in 1924, the 15th of August was chosen, it was because it was a public holiday.
And being a public holiday, the clients
at that time decided to say:
“We will pay for our guide’s day to support the rescue fund,
and our guide will spend the day with us in the valley.”
The guides were also heavily involved in putting up
we’re just below the Drus - putting the Madonna up on the Drus, at a time when
people were far more religious and could also seek
the Virgin’s protection.
[gentle music]
A little souvenir from the Drus, searching for the abseil anchors in the snow.
By the evening, we were wrecked.
By the evening, bloody hell, I was shattered.
Lucien told me: "We’re waking up at 2 a.m., there’s no other option."
Here we go, a little soup,
a little "foot soup".
This morning is tough.
But it’s the last morning—in theory.
After this, Lucien, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.
I won’t call you again. You’re not my mate anymore.
We’ll need to take a little holiday.
Off we go for the final one, heading towards the Grépon.
In a few hours, we should be at the summit.
We’re hoping to take off in the sunshine over the Nantillons and land in Cham.
That would be absolutely incredible.
When you know a bit about the history
of the Ravanel brothers climbing up here,
you picture those images from the 1920s, seeing them climb up
in their tricounis, carrying that statue, which must have weighed 40 or 50 kilos.
It was an expedition, a real journey.
They set off from Chamonix.
Up to the Plan de l’Aiguille, the Madonna was carried on a mule.
She was transported, but after that, no.
I remember sometimes letting
Lucien go ahead and telling myself:
Let the rope out, let the rope out.
And I was just sitting there,
and my eyes were closing.
We know how fascinating the Madonna
of Grépon is,
and how you want to reach her because she is also the last one.
It's almost the only one that isn't a miraculous Madonna, that isn't
an Our Lady of Lourdes, but is Our Lady of La Salette,
the Madonna who weeps and forgives.
And it’s true, she has that sad face, with that little tear at the corner
of her eye, with her crown of roses.
She moves me deeply.
Look at her, mate.
Thanks for the journey.
Thanks to you, mate.
Top.
She’s beautiful.
That’s the one that would have Gone through your place.
That’s incredible.
She’s the queen of the Madonnas, with the crown.
We take the time, for once, to be a little
more contemplative.
Contemplation, introspection about our project, about what we have achieved.
We are finishing our journey, yet
we are already nostalgic for what we have experienced.
[gentle music]
Goodbye, Madonna.
These Madonnas are our heritage.
Whether we like them or not.
Whether the symbol they represent has value in our eyes or not.
In the end, they still represent so much
in the history of mountaineering.
To live is not
the same as merely existing.
Living can be done quietly, within one's comfort zone,
as some would say.
But existing means venturing beyond oneself,
into different conditions.
Putting oneself—I don’t like saying this— Putting oneself in danger? No.
It’s about going out, exploring— not to seek danger,
but to seek new sensations, perhaps limits,
perhaps revelations, perhaps
answers to the questions we ask ourselves.
[gentle music]
In memory of Luciano Mareliati. Mountain guide and history enthusiast.