Mayeul Aldebert is a journalist at Le Figaro, Aubin Aldebert works in the civil service. The two brothers, passionate about mountaineering, published together
La Montagne remembers: history of the conquest of the Alps
(editions du Rocher, November 2023, 192 p., 19 euros).
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LE FIGARO. - “Even if today's mountaineers forget, the mountain remembers,” you write in the introduction to your book. As mountaineers, what did you want to tell through all these climbing stories?
Mayeul and Aubin ALDEBERT. -
We first wanted to tell the story of great human adventures.
The conquest of summits has been the subject of formidable epics where men have surpassed themselves, driven by a thirst for something beyond, and have achieved feats in previously totally unknown spaces.
The first mountaineers were often British, who, after having traveled all the seas and all the continents, turned towards the still unexplored heights.
Mountaineering is therefore above all a story of great discoveries.
An evocative coincidence, the first ascent of Mont Aiguille took place in June 1492, a few months before Christopher Columbus set foot on America.
From the 15th century, the conquest of the mountain also appeared as a search for technical exploits, a desire to break new records. How does this “cult of performance” combine with the poetry of peaks and exploration?
The search for performance is not totally incompatible with mountain contemplation.
The greatest mountaineers have always been driven by this need to escape from the world to find, in this solitary face-to-face with the great outdoors, an interiority.
Mountain literature has widely reported these intimate dialogues of the greatest mountaineers.
They are the true wealth of mountaineering which put an end to the old days when the mountain kept its summits for itself, and where men remained in the valleys.
But it is true that yesterday's performances, the first ascents sometimes over several days, are very different from today's precise speed records, which require full, complete and exclusive concentration on the part of the climber.
Last summer, Benjamin Védrines completed the complete Peuterey in 6 hours 50 minutes when the very first completed it in several days.
This immense feat, a true triumph for the Chamoniard, can nevertheless make us question the time that the climber devotes to contemplation.
You also tell of the tragedies that have devastated the Alps. What meaning can be found in this leisure full of danger, in these lives snatched from the peak of their exploit?
Let us first remember that the great stories of mountaineering, those of victories and tragedies, do not necessarily reflect the common practice of high mountains which, while retaining its risks, is not always as dangerous.
Modern mountaineering has desecrated the mountain by transforming it into a place of human exploit.
Which did not prevent the mountain people from finding a spiritual dimension in this verticality and in this opportunity for introspection.
Many mountain tragedies have been caused by mistakes, bad choices or a lack of preparation.
But beyond these human parameters, which can be overcome by training and caution, there will always remain a risk inherent in the high mountain environment, particularly on difficult routes.
The mountaineer evolves in a space which exceeds him and of which he does not control all the parameters: sometimes unpredictable weather despite technical developments in the field, rock falls, the instability of a snow cover.
The mountaineer encounters a reality greater than himself, which places limits on his action and reminds him that he remains profoundly small.
And that sometimes you have to know how to give up, with humility.
The ascent of a mountain can be an expression of pride, like that of Antoine de Ville on behalf of the King of France, but it can also be a shift, a reminder of the fragility of the human condition.
When talking about Alpine hunters, you talk about solidarity between rope companions. At a time when we are overusing the expression by talking in particular about “the last of the rope”, what messages do you draw from these collective stories – and these tragedies?
The rope party is a place for learning to live together.
When you walk tied up, you feel your companion's movements, his fatigue, his energy in the rope.
We must also give our confidence to the leader who assures the others.
But there cannot be a “last in line”, in the sense that one would be left behind to the detriment of the others.
Rope spirit is above all the listening that exists between companions, where the weakest, or the least expert, also participates in decisions.
With the exception of exceptional solo ascents, such as that of Charles Dubouloz, in the Grandes Jorasses, mountaineering is above all a concentration of life, of joy and effort, of fear and hope, that the we share with several people.
The mountain also seems to be the place where evil passions are unleashed: rivalries, competitions, even betrayals...
Mountaineers are men and therefore came to the mountains with their share of vices: selfishness, pride, anger... And the stories are there to tell it!
We talk a lot about major controversies because they have often caused resounding drama.
How many climbers have been able to get lost in these pitfalls, in the thirst for victory, whatever the cost!
But mountaineering is above all the countless successful ascents and rescues, stories which continue to be written today more than ever.
The heroic rescue of the men of the PGHM in 1980 in the Supercouloir of the Mont-Blanc Massif is far from being the only one.
There are many more that could be told.
At the central pillar of Frêney, in 1961, the strongest could have let down the weakest.
Yet they took turns in the storm to “make the trace”, open the way.
If not everyone survived, everyone remained united, sometimes even in the depths of their despair.
For geographical reasons, the mountain being located between heaven and earth, the religious dimension is never far away. Since the 15th century, how has the sacralization of the mountain evolved?
Well before the 15th century, mountains were seen as places of elevation.
In the Bible, God speaks to man and seals covenants on mountaintops.
These names still resonate today: Mount Ararat, Mount Horeb... Other religions also have their mountains: Mount Olympus of the Greek gods, the Temple Mount coveted by two monotheisms.
The list is still long of summits for pilgrimage.
There are also these sacred mountains, because they are inaccessible, like Mont Aiguille which was long believed to be the shelter of an earthly paradise.
In Tibet, Everest is named Chomolungma: goddess and mother.
Read alsoThe ascent of Mont Aiguille, the royal beginnings of mountaineering
Modern mountaineering has desecrated the mountain by transforming it into a place of human exploit.
Which did not prevent the mountain people from finding a spiritual dimension in this verticality and in this opportunity for introspection.
“
I turned my inner gaze on myself
,” said Pétraque at the summit of Ventoux well before modern times.
The mountain has become a place of celebration of the sacred through crosses and statues installed with the sweat of men.
The Virgin of Grépon, installed in 1926, is the feat of a famous Chamonix guide, very Christian, Joseph Ravanel, who wanted to show his gratitude both for his career as a climber and for the beauty of creation which he marveled at. at each ascent.
Mayeul and Aubin Aldebert,
The Mountain remembers: history of the conquest of the Alps
Éditions du Rocher