Down the Slope in the Vallée Blanche

I didn’t know nervous poos were a thing, but when I find myself at 3,842m of altitude about to climb down an extremely narrow ridge in ski boots, I realise how ignorant I have been.

The sun is still low on the horizon as we reach the summit of the Aiguille du Midi, painting the surrounding mountains a mix of orange, pink and yellow I have never seen before. The wind surges around us in a dance too quick to understand, creating a beautiful mess of snow wherever we look.