SAMAYA x MORGAN BADUEL

 

 

Morgan Baduel, a trainer with an engineering company, embodies the very essence of a passion for the high mountains. With a proven track record in the demanding disciplines of ice climbing, mountaineering and paragliding, Morgan reveals the profound motivations that guide him in these extreme environments. His practice, as rigorous as it is poetic, reflects a relentless quest to surpass himself and a harmonious communion with the natural elements. Discover the many facets of Morgan, whose commitment and vision enrich and transcend the single practice of sport.

 

"Today, my mountaineering practice remains profoundly heterogeneous.

 

As children, my parents and I used to go hiking in the Cantal massif. Little by little, our gaze wandered elsewhere, captured by the ridges of these gentle mountains, which gradually, as winter progressed, underwent a process of refinement, freezing over, until they became inhospitable. The silhouettes changed, and it was equipped with crampons, ice axes and touring skis that the rest took place.

 

Since 2012, I've been living in the Chamonix valley and have been able to climb some great routes on the north faces of the Alps and Pyrenees. Ice climbing and mixed climbing have always held a special place in my practice. Evolving on an ephemeral material with a protean seasonality and plasticity has always magnetized me. You have to adapt all the time, you have to be there, the ice doesn't wait for you.

 

Keen to develop my relationship with the mountains, I recently took up paragliding. After 15 years of mountaineering, the time seemed right. The evolution of equipment and materials has a lot to do with it. Today, despite a full-time job as a trainer in an engineering company, I still manage to keep up my passion for amateur paragliding.

 

In the past, climbing in ultra-light mode was synonymous with speed and, above all, vulnerability to the unexpected. Today, the delta between these two points has narrowed considerably. Each manufacturer is developing its own light range to offer climbers a better mountain experience. This means they can carry more equipment, increase their velocity, or simply reduce their weight and, ultimately, their effort.

 

Technical developments mean that light is no longer the preserve of specialists. Product ergonomics and durability have improved, as has comfort.

 

I made the switch to light in 2010 by weighing the various components on my harness. Then the cascade of hybrid steel/aluminium pins became more widespread, and today they reduce the effort required for sustained vertical flights.

 

In ski mountaineering, the use of 100% carbon boots combined with racing skis has opened incredible doors in terms of speed and distance.

 

Fabrics have changed. The widespread use of Dyneema®, with its formidable tensile strength, has enabled us to rethink a number of components, such as harnesses, rucksacks, paraglider risers, soft-link connectors and many others. The fabric of my paraglider weighs 25 grams per square meter. In flight, my life rests on 1.3 kilograms of fabric, which is quite incredible!

 

Despite these significant advances, we mustn't lose sight of the fact that Light is a complement to a basic level of knowledge and experience.

 

I started mountaineering 15 years ago with a GMHM alumnus. I learned from him that you have to maintain and deploy maximum efficiency with minimum equipment. The quality of the latter helps to reinforce the rope or its velocity, but remains a complement. Today, whether we're novices or experts, we're all counting grams. The weight saved is energy saved and added pleasure at altitude.

 

Most of my climbing/mountaineering trips are now concentrated in the Alps. I refuse to fly to climb abroad. I'm convinced that we have enough material on hand to satisfy our passions.

 

I have fond memories of my first visit to the north face of the Grandes Jorasses almost 15 years ago. Setting off with my friend Gaylord Dugué, now a professor at ENSA, we finally visited this face. Our mountaineering imaginations were confronted with the reality of this austere mountain, which to this day nurtures my deepest aspirations.

 

We had thrown ourselves into the Croz Spur at a time when ice conditions were not yet too badly affected by climate change. Shortly after entering the line, a fall of ice in the night pulverized my helmet (and considerably eroded my morale). This was followed by a lethargic climb halfway up the face, in which I was in a state of awe. Gaylord's leadership was exemplary. Despite the fact that we'd done the route in reversible, the success and efficiency of the rope party rested on him.

 

This day made me realize that technical mountaineering is a "long maturation" activity, and that we can be plagued by profound discrepancies between what we think we are, what we want to be and what we really are. This race revealed many of these to me, and served as a reference point for adjusting and recalibrating the cursors.

 

I've never been very mystical, but I find a singular force emanating from this wall. I've always called it the temple. Each time, you have to put everything on the table, be perfectly aligned with yourself in full awareness.

 

Mountaineering/climbing is a privileged outlet, a permanent mutation. The vertical shift induced by these mountains enables us to realign our inner selves.

 

Some outsiders would talk of neuroses, which isn't entirely untrue. We all have our share of mystery, light and misery. Climbing can be a different way of passing through time, punctuated by the seasonality of snow in the midst of a harsh mineral universe.

 

Nevertheless, while the aesthetic appeal of this activity is undeniable, we must not lose sight of its impact, which we must also question and put into perspective today with a world intrinsically altered by climate disruption.

 

This winter's ice climbing season was non-existent in the Alps. The ice structures were in thermal fibrillation, putting a damper on the plans of ice climbers.

 

As I mentioned earlier, I don't fly for leisure. Today, there's a deep antagonism between wanting to preserve life and traveling to the other side of the world to satisfy a passion.

 

It's a tricky equation to solve without offending the sport's enthusiasts, but whatever one's opinion, it's one that really needs to be put on the table. Our leisure activities don't justify every impact.