Two French mountaineers on expedition to test the Pyrenex mountain range
The mountains are an integral part of Pyrenex's DNA. Committed to offering the most high-performance technical clothing for tackling snow-capped summits, we work season after season with some of the best French mountaineers, who have over the years become true technical advisers.
Among them, two French athletes, Yann Borgnet and Lara Amoros, set off to Georgia and then Chile to brave the highest summits in order to reach extreme temperatures and test the Pyrenex mountain range products in real conditions, in particular our lightweight down jackets and our mountaineering down jackets.
Throughout the development process of this mountain collection, our athletes took part in improving each product. Thanks to the tests they carried out and their feedback, they confirmed the technical performance and reliability of our mountain down jackets. During these two expeditions, they wore very warm and robust down jackets such as the Chinook XP, the Hudson XP, and the Meije XP, as well as lighter mountain down jackets such as the Bruce and the Masha. Lara and Yann also set off equipped with warm sleeping bags filled with down and French duck feathers, such as the Népal 1700 and Ladakh 1600.
Lara Amoros tells us:
« At the end of July, in the height of summer, we set off to face the austral winter! Destination: the southern hemisphere, the Cordillera of the Andes, Chile… In our luggage: very large Pyrenex mountain down jackets, crampons, and ice axes, to brave extremely low temperatures and have fun on the frozen water cascading down from the high summits.
From Santiago, we head in a few hours towards the Cajón del Maipo, where various summits reach over 6,000 metres. We set our sights on one of them: the southernmost 6,000-metre peak in the world — the Marmolejo volcano, 6,108 m.
Skis on our feet and warm down jackets on our backs, it would take us two days of walking to reach the foot of the mountain. We set off for a week of self-sufficiency in food, with everything needed to bivouac at -30 degrees and to climb. The packs were very heavy and we pulled a pulka with all the gear that would not fit in our rucksacks. Little by little, the West face revealed itself: red, black, white, grey, and sometimes even orange rock, dotted with a few lines of bluish ice. It was magnificent!
We set up what would be our home for the coming days — a base camp on a small island of earth and grass in the middle of an ocean of snow. At the very end of the day, when the face briefly caught the sun, two sizeable surprises awaited us. Two large ice waterfalls emerged from the shadow. But the biggest surprise was undoubtedly their colour — grey and almost black at times… That was why we had not been able to spot them when they were not lit by the sun. They were most likely fossil ice in which volcanic ash had become mixed with the ice during its formation.
The sporting objective of the trip was then clear! Situated between 4,000 and 5,000 metres in altitude, these waterfalls are several hundred metres high, they are steep — sometimes even completely overhanging — they are the colour of Oreo ice cream, and, to top it all off, they have apparently never been climbed.
In the shade, at these altitudes and in the depths of winter, the thermometer drops very low. Not to mention that the activity is not very dynamic, and when belaying you can remain inactive for very long minutes. Well wrapped up in our warm Pyrenex down-filled down jackets, we spent two fine, brisk days climbing these incredible vertical and overhanging walls.
We named one of the waterfalls "couleur café" — a song that warms the boys just thinking about it! For the second, it would be a nod to our favourite Pyrenean mountaineer, Louis Audoubert, who was the 1st technical adviser to Pyrenex during the 1970s. He was able to test the first Pyrenex mountaineering down jackets on a great number of ascents, such as Everest, Manaslu, Yosemite, the Oisans in the Alps, Kilimanjaro, the Mont-White massif, the Hoggar, and the Atlas. »
Yann Borgnet nostalgically recounts his expedition to Georgia, setting off to test several warm down jackets in real conditions — such as the Hudson XP and the Bruce — accompanied by Lara Amoros, who was equipped with the Meije XP and the Masha.
« I had already visited Georgia in 2014. The country was slowly opening up to tourism. In the summer of 2019, we had spotted a summit from afar, which we had planned to climb.
When the Pyrenex team suggested we go and test their new mountain down jacket range in freezing temperature conditions, we first considered a long-distance traverse in the Alps. But the desire to travel to a different culture and into the heart of massifs where I don't already spend half the year led me to suggest Georgia and its immense mountains of the Caucasus range. They were immediately delighted by the project. And straight away, I thought back to that summit with the unfinished ascent. I immersed myself again in the maps and satellite images to find it. The Totakvirmi.
I remember its name precisely. An elegant pyramid. No guidebook. No information about any previous ascents. I had no desire to organise a classic expedition focused solely on climbing a single summit. No, I wanted to roam the mountain, to traverse it by tracing a wandering line. That morning, heavily laden and well equipped with our Pyrenex mountaineering down jackets, we crossed the bridge over the Tsaneri river — the last human-made structure on our route for the next six days. The forest gave way to timid alpine meadows, which we quickly left behind for a mineral world. We set up our first bivouac not far from the terminal tongue of the glacier. We left the first valley on our right, took the second, then almost immediately branched off into a third. We reached its high point and decided to pitch our tent at a small col. To the west, a beautiful snowy ridge — corniced and jagged — led to the famous Totakvirmi. It looked feasible, and its line struck me as very aesthetic!
Dawn pulled us from the tent. The ridge was already lit by the first glimmers of light. We were running late — the time difference had played tricks on us… Without delay, we made our way to the start of the route. A doubt still lingered: the descent was not obvious. Since the day before, I had been imagining possibilities by tracing lines, but no option satisfied me. The question of the descent weighed more heavily as we progressed. We reached the summit at dusk. The unknown drew me in, and we set up a first abseil. The descent was long and full of unknowns. It was past midnight when we collapsed into our warm Pyrenex sleeping bags. Thank goodness we had them — they were a real comfort after such a gruelling day!
We have been away from the valley for 3 days, and we still have 3 days of food left. Examining the maps and satellite images again, a circuit of the Bashaltau — a beautiful pyramid rising before us — seems like a fine option. We set off again, crossing a vast glacial plateau. The indeterminate nature of our wandering across the high Caucasian glacial plateaus soon brings us to a small island of rocks and earth, lost in the middle of the glaciers. We have done nothing today, covered a ridiculous distance, but no matter. Tonight, we sleep in Russia. A trivial act, as the border line is just a stone's throw away. Our tent is pitched on a promontory opening onto a breathtaking panorama. We have spotted an inspiring ascent route for the following day: the East face of the Mestiatau. It was not planned, but it caught our eye! It is a snow couloir, extended by a fine ridge. We are no longer here for the difficulty of the route, but solely for the aesthetic of the horizontal line and the view that will open up before us on this "just over 4,000 m" summit.
Still in the shade, the couloir was quickly ascended. We finally rose to the summit, with the overwhelming desire for time to stand still, for the silence to last a little longer. We descended the first few hundred metres over a vast glacier. The snow was still firm and the route clear. No need to concentrate — the mind could wander, soaking up that very particular atmosphere: the ever-present silence, the soft evening light, those immense mountains, the glaciers. Those glaciers, fat and rounded at the top, dying below their equilibrium line. We will hold on to that final image: the terminal glacial tongue, collapsing at regular intervals, giving way to chaos. A chaos we had to cross. »
