Sunrise from the summit ridge of Gran Paradiso, looking towards the Matterhorn in the distance

Upon watching some people fly from just below the summit a few summers ago, a hike a fly (hike/climb up and paraglide back down) seed was firmly planted. Imagine being able to save your legs from the brutal and monotonous descent typical of so many summits. Imagine being able to take in the views from the air, gliding down to those warm alpine meadows in a matter of minutes. Yes, this idea definitely had legs.

Fast forward 3 years and I find myself mentally fatigued from the first of the Covid lockdowns but (as there was little else to do but train) fitter than I have been in a while with a huge amount of pent up energy. Driving back from the south of France and first foray into free-diving (more about that another time) I realised that there was a short but good weather window for a quick ascent of Gran Paradiso from the valley floor. Having checked for potential partners, it was apparent that I would be a lone rooster for this one, so a bit of food and a hasty pack, followed by a quick couple of hours nap after the 6 hr drive from Villefranche-sur-Mer and I was back on the road from Chamonix for the drive through to Pont in the Aosta Valley.

Leaving the car at 12.30 am, I made good progress up to the Vittorio Emanuele II hut and then across the boulder field and on to good firm snow. A quick change from trainers into boots and crampons and upwards progress resumed. I stopped for a third drink and some food at the shoulder below the summit, just above the convergence of routes from the two classic ascent routes. It was at this point I knew I had fucked up.

Aside from wanting to fly from just below the summit, I wanted to watch sunrise from the summit ridge so I had packed my big camera and a good landscape lens (not an overly lightweight companion for an alpine outing). Setting off so early had me a long way in front of parties staying in the hut and as the first signs of dawn hit the sky, I put my jacket on, crammed an energy bar into my mouth and hurriedly packed my bag. Drink, food, trainers still attached to the outside, camera, camera, ‘shit, where’s my camera'?!’

A quick check around suggested that the only place it could be was at either of the places I’d previously stopped for a drink. Given that reaching the summit was very much a secondary objective behind photographing sunrise and flying off, I decided I would retrace the previous 600m or so and hope that it was just sat where I would have placed it when getting a drink and some food from my bag. Passing the first point and the first two climbers coming up from the hut (who couldn’t recall seeing anything resembling a camera), it wasn’t looking promising. This was going to be an expensive day, but at least I could fly down.

As luck would have it, the climbers I met must have either had their eyes shut or been off the path as my camera and a bag of mixed fruit sat waiting patiently for me in the well trodden snow trench. Too late to be able to make sunrise, I decided to sit and wait for more light and the very strong back wind to abate so I could at least fly down. An hour later and this still wasn’t happening. Ah well at least I had my camera for some sunrise photos. I wandered back down to the hut and hoped to get a nice time-lapse or some photos of the morning colours over the little lake. It was at this point that I knew I’d fucked up…again.

Lining up the shot I wanted, the “No SD card” warning popped up. I packed up and laughed at my new found levels of incompetence as I headed back down to the valley floor on foot. I’d somehow managed to carry a wing, a camera and a lens up to just below the summit to use neither and then walk back down, on my own and mostly at night. Great success!

I subsequently learned that flying in the Gran Paradiso national park is illegal and you risk a hefty fine if caught. Oopsie - though I guess there’s little chance of getting caught if the wing never makes it out of your bag.

A little later in the year, in much drier conditions, I headed back with some friends to head to the summit and get those sunrise photos. This time we had success, we arrived on the summit as the sun came up with views over the Mont Blanc massif and out to the Valais. It was made all the sweeter by my previous failure. I imagine if we had then, all four of us, chosen to fly down in the beautiful early morning light and land by the cars, in time for a coffee on the restaurant terrace, it would have been the perfect ending to my original plan. Of course, we didn’t, that would have been to break the rules an no-one likes to break rules…

Kate Ballard looks out over the Valais from just below the summit of Gran Paradiso

Not a great alpine accomplishment by any stretch of the imagination, but heading up and down in a single push with good friends made for a fantastic adventurous few hours out. I was doubly happy that I remembered my SD card this time as my new ish Zeiss Loxia 21mm coupled with the trusty Sony A7rii made for some amazing sunstars and captured the sunrise in all its glory.

If nothing else on this trip. I definitely learned the value of slowing down in order to be quicker. A little more forethought as to whether I had everything that I required the first time round, would probably have made the second trip unnecessary. It also reminded me of the importance of time sent in nature, I couldn’t help but laugh at my amateur showing on the first attempt and still thoroughly enjoyed the outing, despite the lack of success with regards my original goals.