Pico D'Aneto is the highest summit in the Pyrenees, crowning a granite massif characterised by rocky ridges radiating from a long main crest, flanked on the north by extensive (by Pyrenean standards) snowfields. Of these ridges the most famous, by virtue of appearing in the French language '100 best routes in the Pyrenees' book, is the Salenques arête. It rises over two major subsidiary summits and many lesser gendarmes and is graded 'difficile'. Denise and I fancied an ascent of it, as did Tony, who managed to rope Nigel into the endeavour. Cait was also keen, but a sixth person could not be found so Denise, Cait and I decided to climb as a rope of three.

Being one of the most remote ridges on the mountain, we would need to bivouac in the upper Esera valley to complete it comfortably in a day. On our previous visit to the Pyrenees our bivouacs had been jinxed by rain, despite the much more settled weather we had that year. Almost every day so far had seen an afternoon storm, so the chances of a dry night seemed slim. Sure enough, by about 4.00 pm on the day we planned to set off, dark clouds had built, and thunder boomed. We had to hope that it would dissipate sooner rather than later. We seemed to be in luck though - at 8.00 pm, as our bus departed for the road head, the clouds started to clear eastward.

Upper Esera Valley - an approach to Salarques Arête, Aneto

By the time we started walking from Plan D'Estans, the low evening sun was illuminating the lush green grass of the valley floor in a golden light and silhouetting the sharp peaks to the west. In half an hour we came to a point overlooking a wide dry section of the valley. The frontier ridge with France rose on the left and the Aneto massif on the right, while ahead a graceful spire of a peak divided it into two. About half a mile away a foaming white torrent plunged into the earth - the Forau Dels Agualluts. The waters resurge across the border as the Garonne. Above the fall lay an exquisite meadow, braided by clear streams. A lone tent was pitched by the path, and it was tempting to stop for the night here too, but we were still too low so we pressed on into the narrower, wilder reaches of the Val De Barrancs. The going soon changed from a grassy stroll to awkward boulderfields hemmed in by crags.

We stopped at the last patch of grass, just beyond the outwash from a wide gully, which descended from the Aneto Glacier. The ground sloped somewhat, but the route beyond this traversed a boulder - strewn shelf devoid of any flat ground or greenery.

Tony at the bivvy site

Next morning, the alarm went at 4.00 am. If anything it was darker than it had been an hour earlier, when the full moon had been illuminating the landscape in its unearthly light. We had tea and muesli bars while we waited for the dawn, but by 5.00 there was still no discernable brightening of the eastern sky, so we fought off the urge to go back to sleep and waited…

Finally, by 5.30am it was just about light enough. We worked our way along the shelf to a small col where crags forced us to lose a few hundred feet of precious height to gain the main valley floor. We plodded steadily up over boulder and scree fields, then up steadily steepening patches of hard, dirty snow. To our right the long jagged crest of the Salenques arête swept around the Glacier des Tempestades, coloured gold by the early sun. A final loose scramble gained the narrow Col Des Salenques.

A cold wind funnelled over from the shadowy Vall De Les Salenques, so after a quick stop to don harnesses and have a bite to eat, we pushed on up the ridge. Initially it was a scramble, providing you kept to the west side, with plenty of options. We passed numerous dry walled bivvy spots, some complete with abandoned sleeping mats. We followed scree terraces, then took a rising ascent on slabby rock back to the crest, now level but narrow and exposed, and with the difficulties harder to avoid. Ahead the route steepened dramatically and we spotted another party on a big vertical step in the arête.

The start of the main difficulties comprised a wall of golden cracked granite. The cracks were initially quite wide and awkward, but the reward was big sharp edged flake holds and spikes. Some devious exposed sections on the right flank then avoided a large pinnacle and regained the crest at a gap.

The ridge now reared up in a slender tower with big drops on both sides. Fifty feet up this was a large ledge, occupied by two climbers with enormous rucksacks. Their leader was thrashing his way up the steep wall above this with copious use of etriers and pegs. As soon as they had vacated the ledge Tony set off in hot pursuit, followed shortly by Denise. The climbing up the arête to the platform was quite tricky, with off balance moves up a leaning crack. The steep wall was about 4b standard, but strenuous with a sack and big boots on.

Moving together again, we managed to overtake the slower party. The angle had eased but the arête was still narrow and exposed, at one point requiring a climb down into a gap that was hard to protect for those 'seconding'. It then rose steeply again up to Pico Margalida. The arête itself looked hard if followed religiously, but easier traversing lines existed on the eastern flank, following a series of slabs and ramps rising parallel with the crest. Tony and Nigel, taking the purist approach, set off up the arête directly, but were forced to climb back down to the lower line.

A final steep crack deposited us on the airy summit of the Margalide. We sat on a flat rock and had a lunch while surveying the onward route. The ridge dropped down, then continued as a another narrow crest with a big vertical drop on the right side and a shorter left flank, before broadening and sweeping up to the summit of the Pico de Tempestades. The summit of Pic D'Aneto, with it's summit crosses and swarms of ant-like figures, lay further on again.

We moved off quickly as the other party re-appeared, not wanting to get stuck behind them. We stayed roped along the narrow arête but then dispensed with it on the scramble up the Tempestades. Although the scrambling was easy, out of the wind the sun was warm, and the length of the route and it's altitude were beginning take their toll on our energy.

From the summit of Tempestades Aneto seemed close, but the intervening ridge dived up and down, both flanks long, precipitous and less sound in appearance than the ridge so far. There was no sign of the party we'd overtaken, but another party of three were moving slowly along the south flank of the ridge ahead, seemingly have trouble with the detailed route-finding. This traverse was quite airy, across several grooves, and although not hard, a number of loose blocks demanded respect. We rejoined the ridge at a crumbly gap.

Cait climbing on the Salarques Arête, Aneto

The route description had mentioned a descent with 'mediocre' rock, and dropping away to the north was a shallow gully of loose rock, which seemed to fit the bill. We dropped carefully down then along easy but loose and exposed ledges to once again regain the crest. It hadn't seemed too bad, and the next pitch seemed a lot more solid, taking a slabby wall with a steep start. Tony and Nigel had got ahead of the second party of three - a guide and his two clients as it turned out. Not wanting to waste time, I led off as soon as the clients started seconding the pitch, but they soon ground to a halt at a problematic bulge. There seemed to be more holds to their left, so I hauled up these, getting to the top of the pitch ahead of them. This annoyed the guide, who now seemed determined not to let us pass!

We soon came to the edge of a very large gap in the ridge, some 250 feet deep. Loose blocks lay everywhere, piled on the ledges and stacked in the runnels leading down into it. I realised that this was the descent with the mediocre rock mentioned in the description. Far below Tony and Nigel were crossing the lowest point, heading for more solid-looking rock on the far side.

We dispensed with the rope - more of a danger on loose ground - and picked our way carefully down. I got ahead of the guided party, but the guide was disinclined to let Denise and Cait through. This problem was solved by Cait kicking a rock on the guide (not intentionally - and only a small one !!).

The pitch after the gap traversed a slab to enter a groove. I raced up it, hotly pursued by Cait, Denise and the guide. Quickly we moved together up blocky ground, catching Tony and Nigel up at a curious natural arch in the ridge. We climbed out of this up a fine exposed slab. As I belayed at the top of this I noticed that the cloud had built up considerably - where before there had been just benign cumulus, now dark clouds pressed in. Then it started to spot with rain. We moved as quickly as possible along the arête, the spots becoming more frequent. Then we heard the thunder. Whilst we had been expecting it, we were alarmed it had developed so early.

The ridge was broader now, but the rain was now heavy and turning to hail. I stuffed the sodden rope into the sack, and we carried hastily on, as the quickest and therefore safest descent lay over the top. Thunder cracked and reverberated, and lightning darted out of black clouds below us. The frontier peaks to the north were veiled in a heavy grey curtain. Then our axes started to buzz. Of all the places to be now, near the summit of the highest peak in the Pyrenees was probably the worst! We quickly dumped our sacks on the crest and scuttled down the step boulder slopes on the south flank where we sat as the hail hammered down, waiting for it to pass.

Eventually the sky seemed to brighten, and the thunder receded slightly. We crept back onto the ridge. The axes still buzzed intermittently - in fact the wet rocks also seemed to be emitting an unnerving hum. There was no sign of the guided party - we assumed they had taken shelter below the last difficult pitch. Cautiously we edged our way towards the summit, trying to keep on the flanks as far as possible, and quickly discarding the sack several more times when the buzzing started again.

We emerged onto the small summit plateau. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, deserted. The line of metal crosses buzzed away, so our visit to the highest point in the Pyrenees was probably one of the briefest on record - about a second in my case, though Nigel and Tony managed to snatch a quick photo.

Nigel on the summit

We started the descent. The guidebook had mentioned a narrow section of ridge at the top of the normal route. Fortunately this proved to be very short, and we were soon onto easy scree and snow, glad to be off the ridge crest. We stopped to put crampons on at the top of the glacier, but the snow was wet and slushy so they probably didn't add much to the security. Still, it was only steep at the top. A well-trodden path contoured towards the Renclusa hut, but we dropped more directly down the glacier, heading for our bivvy site. Bum-sliding gave a rapid means of descent. The glacier merged into boulders and smooth ice-planed rocks, but large snow fields continued down into a broad gully we knew provided a way down through slabby crags.

We carried on sliding down for some distance, but then the gully walls pinched in and the snow steepened. Hard ice axe braking was needed to control the speed of descent. It was at this point that Tony lost grip of his axe. Fortunately he only slid 20 feet or so. Unfortunately this was into the jaws of a small bergschrund floored with ice and rocks. Battered and bruised, he crawled out and made his way back up to the axe left stuck in the snow, only to slip again just before reaching it. Nigel came to the rescue and retrieved the offending axe. Lower down, a big hole appeared in the snow, exposing a rushing torrent of meltwater. Cautiously we edged past it.

At about 5.00 pm we were back at our bivvy site. The rain started again, so we didn't linger. Descending back down the wet boulderfields required concentration. When we came to the floor of the main valley we found the stream crossings swollen with melt and rainwater. A party coming the other way were scouting around forlornly for a dry way across. We were wet enough already, so just sploshed through the cold water and squelched off down the valley. Thunder still rumbled behind Aneto.

Last Updated: 13 Oct 2005	© Slough Mountaineering Group	contact us