The northeast face of Pointe Innominata stood in front of us. The line caught my eye—it looked almost obvious. Jules had his drone with him, so I asked him to take a photo.
Back home, I looked at the image. The line revealed itself clearly, slicing across the face. Wild, steep, elegant. After some research, I realized no skier had ever explored it.
At that moment, it became my winter goal. It stuck in my head like an obsession. I talked to Jules about it—he had seen it too and was just as motivated.
Once a line gets into my head, it’s hard to shake—it quickly becomes an obsession.
So, a few weeks later, we went for our first attempt. It was February 3rd.
The plan was to sleep in the bivouac at the top of the Dames Anglaises. According to what we found online, there should have been blankets and mattresses there. Perfect—we packed light.
Three hours of climbing, then two hours digging out snow to open the bivy door… and surprise: nothing. No blankets, no mattresses. Just cold emptiness.
We looked at each other, burst out laughing, and went for plan B: skiing the north face of the Dames Anglaises again. A fun descent, but the dream line was still stuck in my head.
February passed. Jules was working a lot, and I had other projects calling. But the line stayed on my mind.
By March, Jules had more free time. We talked again and agreed: if we were going to try again, it would be from the Monzino refuge. No way we were climbing the Dames Anglaises a third time—especially not with bivy gear.
We planned to head up on March 26th. “We’ve got to go check it out,” we said. “After this, it’ll probably be too late.”
With spring approaching and a big high-pressure system settling in, we didn’t want to miss the window.
I reached out to Zian Perrot. Since our expedition to Nepal, we hadn’t had many chances to go out together. He was in. Being three for this kind of mission felt perfect.
On the 26th, we left Chamonix and drove to Courmayeur. Four tough hours of trail-breaking through crusty snow brought us to the refuge. Not easy, but we made it.
The alarm rang at 4:30 a.m. Quick breakfast, then off toward the ridge we had scouted the day before with the drone. It looked more technical than expected… but we had plenty of gear.
The start was slow. I wasn’t feeling great physically, but we moved steadily.
We reached the col, the start of the ridge. From there, we knew turning back would be complicated. The only way out was up.
The first part of the ridge was mellow. We moved quickly, watching for cornices.
Then it steepened and narrowed. We decided to pitch it out. I led the first pitch, then Zian took over with a beautiful 60-meter lead.
Jules and I joined him, thinking we were done with the hard pitches—but no, one more to go. Jules took the lead and climbed what was probably the most beautiful pitch of the day: the final razor-sharp section of the ridge.
The atmosphere was insane. Exposure everywhere. Clouds coming and going constantly. Only the final, easier section remained—but we still had to watch for cornices. Roughly eight hours after leaving the refuge, the three of us stood on the summit of Pointe Innominata, stoked to finally click into our skis.
We began the descent. The atmosphere was unreal. So much exposure beneath our feet—every turn mattered.
This was one of those moments where you have to perform, do what you do best. Snow was mediocre up high.
We reached a technical section where we had to navigate around a bastion separating us from the second couloir. We set up the first anchor and made a 15-meter rappel. Then a second 15-meter rappel brought us back to the snow. After a short uphill on foot, we were able to click into our skis again for the second couloir.
Snow was better there. We linked our turns more quickly, and within minutes, we were at the bottom of the couloir. A final 20-meter rappel brought us down to the Glacier du Frêney.
But the day wasn’t over yet. We still had to get out. Time to bring out our secret weapon: the drone. Descending the glacier looked too dangerous. But we spotted a couloir that led back up to the col where the ridge had begun that morning. We skied down slightly to reach it and began the final climb. Exhausted, we made it—barely—and then cruised down to the refuge.
This line was a full-on adventure. Technical, committing, and beautiful. Probably my best first descent to date. But I don’t plan on stopping here."