probably, but he was hauled to safety, lead weights and all, by his team mates as he eventually emerged on the far side.
A ground-breaking descent
In 1906 Martel made the first descent of the Daluis Gorge before making an aborted attempt on Clue d’Aiglun, an imposing and aquatic cleft in the Maritime Alps. In the following year he turned his attention to the Basque Pyrenees, focusing much of his efforts on the imposing Canyon d’Olhadubie. Even by modern standards the Olhadubie retains an air of seriousness, and despite a series of expeditions probing its upper and lower reaches nearly a mile remained unexplored by the time Martel departed from the scene in 1909. Interest in the gorge dwindled until nearly two decades later, when the rising popularity of caving and climbing produced a string of new challengers.
In 1933 the canyon finally fell to Henri Dubosc and a group of active young mountaineers from Pau – Roger Ollivier, Francois Cazalet and Roger Mailly, men who later became household names in Pyrenean climbing history. Ditching hobnailed boots in favour of flimsy fabric plimsolls and clad in just swimwear and a couple of woollen sweaters, they made a full descent of the gorge in just over 13 hours. They opted for a lightweight, alpine-style approach, employing ropes and a pull-through technique rather than the heavy rope ladders of old. It was a landmark in canyon exploration, and was described by Ollivier in his report:
Our equipment, as picturesque as it is rudimentary, throws a note of gaiety into the expedition. No hobnailed boots this time, not even stockings or socks, but simple esparadilles [Pyrenean plimsolls], swim wear, two big pullovers and a pair of old trousers to reduce rope friction. Dubosc sports a pair of amusing red flannel culottes and a curious white hat.
A sling is placed around an enormous block, a 50m rope uncoiled and Dubosc, protected by a life-line, confronts the first cataract. The water pummels his head violently, his pretty white hat carried away. Our companion finally reaches a sort of cauldron, seething with worrying eddies. But he’s landed in water only shoulder-deep. We hurl the sacks unceremoniously down the pitch. The first, which lands with a resounding ‘plouf’, is greeted with a great burst of laughter from Dubosc, who wades off with fervour. I descend last, pull the rope through and rejoin my companions. All retreat is now cut off from above.
The golden years of exploration
Over the next couple of decades exploration quietly continued, but was severely impaired by a lack of suitable equipment and clothing. Although climbing hardware became more sophisticated with each year, protection against the icy waters remained limited until the appearance of neoprene wetsuits in the mid-1960s. With these modern materials the 60s and 70s were a boom-time for canyon exploration, and with vertical caving techniques becoming more widely used caving clubs again led the way. The Sierra de Guara in northern Spain became a hive of activity, culminating in 1981 in the first true canyoning guidebook (Les Canyons de la Sierra de Guara by Jean-Paul Pontroué and Michel Ambit). The book helped popularise the sport among the wider public and ensured an explosion of interest throughout France, Spain and then Italy. By the beginning of the 90s, most canyoning areas of France and Spain were represented by topo-guides, along with a handful of areas along the length of Italy.
The appearance of relatively light and affordable masonry drills during the 1990s meant that more ambitious projects became possible in the harder rock types of the high Alps. A new breed of explorer came to the fore, many of them alpinists and mountain guides willing to push the boundaries. During this time the grand classics of Val d’Ossola, Ticino and Lake Como were opened up, although, as in previous decades, the exact details of exploration remain scanty. Lake Como’s history is perhaps the best documented, owing to Pascal van Duin’s seminal guidebook Canyoning in Lombardia. Van Duin himself has been one of the most prolific modern explorers, as a glance through the list of first descents in Appendix F will testify.
The rising popularity of the sport paved the way for professional canyoning outfits, which could cash in on the improved safety margins of sturdier rigging. Even so, a number of companies had questionable standards and poor safety records. In 1999 the sport gained notoriety following the tragic deaths of 18 paying tourists (mainly Australian) and three guides during a flood-pulse in Saxetenbach Gorge, near Interlaken.
Val Zemola (Route 66 in the Friuli Dolomites), one of Italy’s most famous canyons, was first descended in 1986
The present day
Canyoning ethos in western Europe has shifted firmly from exploration to sport. Certainly, in France and Spain it seems unlikely that any great surprises lie in wait. Both countries have been thoroughly scoured for canyons and the more notable finds published in guidebooks or websites. Elsewhere, canyon details have taken longer to filter through to the wider canyoning community – northern Italy was virtually terra incognita until the first guidebooks emerged at the turn of the 21st century, and central Switzerland appeared on the map only in the last couple of years.
Undoubtedly, there is still more to be found. Of the areas in this guide, Carnia and the Julian Alps hold perhaps the greatest potential, yielding three classic descents during the time this book was written.
Outside Europe, away from the US, Australia and the French and Spanish overseas territories, there is enormous opportunity for making first descents. There are few places on the Earth’s surface that remain as little known as canyons. Even in New Zealand, with its thriving outdoor community and majestic, canyon-rich mountain scenery, the sport has only just taken off. Travel to Asia, South America or almost any other mountainous land you can think of and the canyons are there for the taking. Pack your flags and get out there!
Geology of the Alps (for canyoners)
A brief history of the Alps
The Alps, like all great mountain ranges, were created by the collision of continents. They began rising some 90 million yeas ago as Italy, inching slowly northwards, collided with the southern edge of mainland Europe. The ocean floor that once divided the two continents gradually disappeared, driven into the Earth’s mantle as the gap between them closed. As the land masses collided, their margins buckled, folded and slid over each other to form immense overlapping thrust sheets, or nappes, which pushed northwards as Italy continued to advance. In this way, great rock masses from the Italian plate were displaced far to the north to create mountains in what are now Switzerland, Austria and France. As the Alps rose, the rocks of the ancient seabed were exhumed, now metamorphosised by the immense heat and pressure of the Earth’s interior. Today these hard-wearing metamorphic rocks (the so-called Penninic nappes) form much of the backbone of the Western Alps.
Beautifully shaped gneiss in Massaschluct (Route 1 in the Valais Alps)
Canyon formation
Although plate tectonics are responsible for the formation of the Alps and the distribution of its rock types, the rugged landscape seen today is largely due to glaciation. Over the last two million years there have been a number of periods of glacial advance and retreat that have done much to remodel the region. The last glacial period ended some 10,000 years ago, when the climate changed so quickly that the glaciers retreated into the mountains over only a few hundred years – a mere blink of an eye in geological terms. Colossal sheets of ice were set in motion across the mountains, scouring deep channels into the rock and forming conduits for billions of tons of melt-water – the canyons we see today.
Limestone environments are susceptible to another, more subtle process – karstification. Limestone is one of
