THE FIRST SKI BASEJUMP FROM MONT BLANC DU TACUL

After doing a first ski BASE jump in Valle Nevado, Chile I arrived in the French Alps. The goal was to jump the serac at the bottom of Mont Blanc du Tacul around 100m tall, diving into an amphitheater of rocks and ice in front of the Pointe Lachenal - intimidating but manageable.
Tragically, Erik Roner had just died skydiving the day before and I received that call when arriving in Chamonix… Needless to say that I wasn’t in the right state of mind or emotionally calibrated to undertake the endeavor. But I was home in my mountains and used my time wisely to gather data on the Triangle du Tacul.


The world reopened after Covid, and I could finally attempt the first ski BASE jump off Mont Blanc du Tacul. Summiting with Alex Perinet, the wind picked up and after waiting 2 hours at the top, we turned around.
Skiing down the north route, I could get a perfect side view of the takeoff. The angle was too steep and would have sent me straight into the rocks. Ironically, the wind saved me that day and I temporarily crossed the project off the list.

Skiing down the Vallée Blanche, I stopped by the Tacul to remeasure the serac and observe the snow conditions.
The serac had changed as an ice chunk had broken off, changing the angle of the takeoff.
45m of ice over 45m of rocks and a steep face below allowing at least 100m of air but the rocks stuck out by 30 to 40 meters forward. This meant the terrain would be on my ass in freefall. While vertical distance allowed a parachute opening, there wouldn’t be much horizontal separation from the terrain.


Besides significant dangers and low error margin, the numbers added up and the project made it back on the list. The first two weeks of June should allow a timeframe of completion with calm winds and good snow on steep faces. 


8:30 am:
After giving a hug to Alex and my cameramen Aurele and Lucas, I parted with my team from Aiguille du Midi to get a head start on the climb.
Knowing the route up, I headed solo to the summit of Mont Blanc du Tacul. The skin track was well established, the weather perfect with blue sky and very minimal wind around 5km/h from the ESE.
The climb went smoothly until I hit 4000m. It was my first time at high altitude this season and while physically ready, I didn’t acclimatize enough and moved slowly on the last section to the top. Oh well, gotta keep pushing and take the pain with a smile. Picking too high of a landmark when climbing, I ended up on top of the Gervasutti couloir adding 30 min of climbing and had to ski down to find the entrance into the Contamine-Neigri, the line I was going to ski which was first opened by Jean-Marc Boivin and Yves Detry in 1977.

11:30 am:
As I summitted, everywhere else was clear, except the very face I was planning on skiing. Superstition would have seen it as a bad omen. It took me a little bit of time to find the line and make sure I was positioned correctly. Double checking on FATMAP, I stood in the right spot. I just had to wait for the fog to dissipate… hopefully…
Alex ordered me to gear up as fast as I could as stand ready for when visibility would be sufficient to drop in. Being solo made gear management tricky. I used every spare space to store gear away: stuffing climbing skins in my pants, strapping crampons on my thigh and even putting mittens in the hood of my jacket.
Alex kept pushing me over the radio to hurry. Going as fast as I can, I was not able to answer. Eventually, my gopros were rolling and I stood ready to drop in.

11:45 am:
Standing on Pointe Lachenal, in front of Mont Blanc du Tacul, Alex gave me the signal to drop over the radio.



I quickly poked the snow with my pole - soft but dense. The snow might not hold, and the sluff will be thick and heavy… I would have to ski confidently but cautiously, a reminder one cannot impose himself to the mountains. We are merely tolerated…
I could only see halfway down the face and trusted Alex fully although he couldn’t see me but the serac was in the clear apparently down below. Aurele had a light visual thanks to his drone.
After giving the count, I dropped in as quickly to race the fog and laid down a ski cut across the face to test the stability of the snowpack. Once I reached the spine on the other side of the face, I was away from the super heavy sluff getting thicker and thicker down the face.

I oriented myself using ridges and rocks as the visibility worsened. I carefully avoided getting caught in the sluff. With the heat, the snow debris was extremely heavy on the 45-degree slope, catching my skis powerfully and I made a quick stop every 5 or 6 turns out of the sluff path.
Below, all the sluff created a big slide coming off the serac. Unable to see me in the fog, Alex looked carefully at the slide to make sure a body wasn’t falling with it…

After crossing the last crevasse, I could see the last ramp angling to the edge of the sérac, but I couldn’t see the takeoff point as there was a ridge blocking the view. It would have to be a blind takeoff but based on the sluff path on the snow ramp, I knew I was aiming in the correct direction.
 
I decided to put my pilot chute in my hand to accelerate the parachute opening and therefore increase the error margin. Even though there would be plenty of vertical distance to open my parachute, with the fog, a tight opening area and a rock slab below the serac, the variables created a tighter frame of execution.
I called Alex over the radio to tell him I was ready and in position. He told me to standby and wait for his signal.
All I had to do was stay calm, alert and trust my friend.

11:50 am:
The crux has come. I passed the last rimaye or “bergschrund”. Pilot chute in hand, I am waiting for Alex Perinet to give the radio signal to drop in.
The fog is intermittent but thick and I can’t see the takeoff. The ridge before the exit meant that I would have to compromise speed for stability… I know… it sounds counterintuitive.
I like to hit jumps going full speed to maximize horizontal separation from the wall which I need on this one but too much speed on the ridge before the takeoff means catching air too early and not clearing the ledge or sending me in the backseat if the takeoff angle is steeper than expected.
Alex gave me the go and I count down. The in-run is smooth besides some hard debris below the surface. I still can’t see the jump.

After a few turns, I get on the ridge and the takeoff is only 10 feet away. I point my skis towards the edge as quickly as I can and angle to a slightly more prominent surface on the left.
As I hit the edge of the serac, I punch through the fog and clear the ice ledge below. I jump directly in the middle of a nook with a protruding serac chunk on the left and a rock slab on the right. I am in the perfect spot but even though I have the proper altitude to open a parachute, the visuals confirm that the terrain is on my ass as predicted.

Altitude wise, I could have gone with a stowed pilot chute (meaning leaving my parachute extractor in the container on my back) but going handheld was the right call to open faster. I needed to maintain as much separation from the terrain as possible in case my parachute opened facing in the wrong direction.
As I throw my pilot chute, I feel solid, committed but relaxed in free fall.  The canopy opened perfectly on heading over my head, I click my poles back in my gloves and fly away from the serac directly over my Aurele Mayol, Lucas Hoarau and Alex Perinet on Pointe Lachenal. A roped-up group ascending towards them is wondering what’s happening!
I had passed the crux smoothly and now I could enjoy the flight towards Aiguille du Midi.

11:55 am:
As the canopy cracked open, I am staying focused. Clicking my poles back in my gloves requires focus and my parachute is flying on heading.
As I grab my toggles and start flying my parachute actively, I can’t help but smile. I fly back towards Pointe Lachenal to fly over Alex, Aurele and Lucas. I considered for a second flying to the over side of Lachenal towards Glacier du Géant and landing at the bottom of the Gervasutti couloir but flying back towards Aiguille du Midi and regrouping quickly with my team felt like a better option.



The excitement is contagious, and I can hear them celebrating. Banking a left turn, I fly over a group of alpinists reaching the top of Lachenal and a lone ski mountaineer looking up. He stops as I buzz over him probably wondering where this dude is coming from.
There is a slight west breeze giving me lift and I am able to enjoy even more airtime. Meanwhile, Lucas’ FPV drone is buzzing around me. Looks like he got the shot!

Coming in for landing on the glacier at 3500m with a gradual smooth flare, I can touch down softly.
An Italian team coming up from the Geant Glacier greets me with high fives and smiles.

We did it!
And besides the variables, stay pragmatic and trusting Alex’s guidance one more time hep turn a dream into reality.
Alex meets me at the landing and we cheer together. The mountains not only created our friendship, but they strengthen our bound.

Going back up to Aiguille du Midi, the heat is becoming unbearable, and I am slowly gaining altitude. Suddenly on the Arête of Aiguille du Midi, I realize that a year ago at this same exact place was the last time I saw Tof Henry after completing the first ski BASE jump on the Aiguille Blanche de Peuterey. I still remember his big smile and overflowing enthusiasm about this descent. We had talked about skiing the Contamine Negri together for a long time and never got to do it.
A few months later he passed away in Chile on an expedition.
It felt like the right thing to dedicate this first ski BASE jump off Mont Blanc du Tacul to Tof.