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I have always imagined mountain climbing

as an illusion, a chimera.

Do you know what a chimera is?

It's an animal from Greek mythology

that is part lion, part goat, and part snake.

An insatiable creature

stuck somewhere

in between your dreams and fears.

A chimera

is a figment of your imagination.

A vain, unattainable state

that your mind seeks out

but never quite reaches.

We mountain climbers

like to climb after our dreams,

to pursue our ambitions.

But right behind one summit,

there is always another.

Or is it a bit more complicated than that?

Who knows...

A chimera

keeps its secrets.

Our story begins here

because this is where our dreams

our chimera is hiding.

On the great chessboard of the mountains

Fitz Roy is king.

Massive.

Daunting.

Revered.

The king is what we show.

He is what we celebrate.

The landscape's manhood on display...

Yet, right nearby,

in the king’s shadow,

the queen stands tall.

Cerro Torre.

Slender.

Fierce.

Wild.

Not there to please,

but there to challenge.

One-thousand meters of granite

draped in ice,

its summit capped by an a mushroom of ice.

On clear days, you can’t miss it.

El Torre...

The strange twist of fate for this queen?

El Torre is a bit phallic...

For a three-woman rope team

Freud enthusiasts just might jump to conclusions...

Are we here to slay our peers?

Or our fears?

F or P?

Could be both, who knows?

What peers are you talking about Miss Billon?

Long story short.

It all started with a certain Cesare Maestri

and his compressor.

During the 50s

the tower of ice and rock seemed impossible.

Perfect for Maestri.

An obsessive climber,

body fixated, driven by conquest.

When he made love to a woman

it was while doing pushups...

Literally.

In 1959, he and Toni Egger embarked on the first ascent.

But Maestri returned alone and without any proof he'd summitted.

Egger fell to his death and the camera with him.

He returned to Italy as a hero,

but skeptics voiced their doubts.

Did Maestri actually reach the summit?

Too good to be true for the time.

In '70, his pride wounded

Maestri went back,

equipped with an 80-kilo compressor, 400 bolts, and a helicopter.

Can you say "overkill"?

He forced his way up the rock

climbing and drilling one hole after another.

Hauling his compressor from bottom to top,

he built the world's ultimate bolt ladder.

For his entire life, Maestri claimed to have stood on the summit.

As a form of proof

he left the compressor at the start of the very last pitch.

That's where the story ends, right?

Not quite.

In '79, Jim Bridwell and Steve Brewer

aided the last 50 meters above the compressor

and finished the route.

They now had proof that Maestri never reached the summit.

Probably because he ran out of gas?

2012. A new era, a new ethic.

Hayden Kennedy and Jason Kruk climbed the route “by fair means,”

without using any of the fixed gear in place.

As they rappelled, they chopped all of Maestri's protection bolts.

Controversy spread in El Chaltén.

The city was in an uproar.

No more regular route up the Torre.

Once back in town, the two climbers were met by police.

A few days later,

David Lama freed every single pitch on the route.

End of story.

They chopped all my bolts!

Interesting... Bolts or pitons if you prefer...

But tell me about your father...

In Maestri’s era, the Compressor Route

represented a different ethic.

Climbers focused more on conquering the mountains,

on masculinity, hero worship,

and on returning home the victor.

There was something very distinct about the era

that still has an influence today.

We are not here to judge history.

We are its progeny.

And what about women in all this?

For me, climbing mountains is a form of expression,

a space where we shouldn’t have to justify our place.

Just as we shouldn’t have to in society at large.

In the mountains, building bonds with others is what counts,

not individual performance or summiting at any cost.

And what about us?

Are we chasing our own chimeras?

Or looking for our time to shine?

Who's on our team? Three women

with a maximum of 4.83 meters

without raising our arms.

There’s Fanny

from Chamonix!

Deep blue eyes, and a booming laugh.

Fanny is just as talented on the dance floor

as she is with an ice axe.

A mountain guide

working for the Guide Company in Chamonix.

She also coaches the French mountaineering team.

Fanny is an alpine climber from the top of her head

to the tips of her toes.

Then there’s Maud

and her fiery red mane.

She has a PhD in sports science,

the brains of our little outfit.

Maud is also a mountain guide and coach.

In addition to her smarts,

she’s is good at everything,

from mountaineering

to skiing,

paragliding,

and climbing.

But, on a more down-to-earth note,

we really love her cooking!

And me?

Lise.

Who am I really?

How would I describe myself?

Or how do I think others would describe me?

Hmmm... remind me

Did you already tell me about your father?

In another life, I would have been

a poet.

But not in this lifetime...

Have you already written a poem or two?

Yes, but I’m not going to read them to you!

They’re only for me...

People describe me as:

a mountain guide,

athlete,

coach for the French mountaineering team...

as well as a bit of a wandering soul.

And, like my chimera,

people often wonder

which of the world’s big walls I am currently roosting on.

Something remarkable about me?

My hairstyle.

Look at how fast I'm going!

When we started talking about it a year ago,

I wasn't ready.

Climbing Cerro Torre had always been a dream of mine,

but one for a much later date.

I never thought I'd have the skills to climb the route.

So indimidating, it's history, David Lama...

It was a big deal for Red Bull, with all the photos,

and David Lama was a rock star!

So, who were we in comparison? Lise Billon, Maud Vanpoulle, and Fanny Schmutz.

Cerro Torre is perhaps the most stunning mountain in the world.

So slender,

piercing, eye-catching...

Some say, “it's because every side is so steep."

It’s not beautiful because it’s so difficult,

but because it's simply so striking!

My own personal experience with Cerro Torre,

explains why I'm so enamored with it.

I showed up in Patagonia for the first time

in December 2012.

We went to climb Cerro Torre,

and had an accident.

And this accident made a real impact on me.

Afterwards, I gained a genuine respect for this mountain,

as well as a healthy dose of fear.

And at the same time I was fascinated

with such a truly captivating spire.

It's eye-catching

and so ever-present.

What draws me to climbing mountains is the sense of freedom,

along with the camaraderie and people you meet.

For years we kept returning to South America,

practically spending more time there than in Europe.

And for a wandering soul like me

El Chalten felt like home.

El Chaltén.

a town deep in the heart of Patagonia

Not quite the middle of nowhere

but pretty darn close.

It’s located at the foot of a mountain range

that never learned what the word “modest” means.

And the wind...

Saying that it’s windy would be an understatement.

Even the God of Wind

calls El Chaltén home.

And the houses? A bit of a mishmash.

It’s as if a carpenter-poet

and an anarchist-handyman

worked on the plans together.

There’s a funky mix of Camp 4 from the 80s

sprinkled with a hint of Chamonix in the pre-Chanel days...

A colorful, motely crew lives here.

21st century dirtbags

but with smartphones

and coconut oil...

People from all around the world

speaking multiple languages

and drinking mate non-stop.

And the asado?

Let’s just say

that tofu has yet to become a staple...

El Chalten has transformed into a village

where people now live year round.

It's like Chamonix...

with no lifts,

longer approaches,

and no search and rescue...

And much friendlier people.

I'm kiddding.

The added bonus is that they also climb.

In contrast with the Himalaya,

here climbing and mountaineering bring people together.

I’d like to give it another go...

I'm a bit scared to try. I'm too shy...

I am too shy...

You have to do like me, like Italian...

You just start without asking anybody.

Yes, but I’m French, you’re Italian...

Yes, but you go to the top of the boulder, not me!

While waiting for the wind to die down in the mountains

between the dancing and music

we work on short-term projects.

I would now like to present to you

the most beautiful boulder in El Chaltén.

The KING LINE

of all king boulders in El Chaltén.

with the most beautiful views,

the most beautiful moves, and the most beautiful holds.

Here it is.

Removing your jewelry?

This feels like something important...

We’re not here to faff around,

which is something I rarely say.

In terms of ethics, there's the “sit-start”.

But this is even better, a “head-down-start”.

I'll spot you.

Move your feet.

One foot after the other.

You have to head left.

Help me!

Good link!

So, your first impression?

Amazing.

I'm being sarcastic...

As soon as you can reach it with your right hand,

and then I get the chicken wing.

I jam my chest.

And me? I jam my boob?

Yes, but that's cheating.

If you have boobs, that's cheating.

It's cool, because I have no boobs, so I'm not cheating.

You get another chicken wing.

You're really worming your way up!

This is the best boulder in all of El Chaltén!

I wasn't lying!

It is not so easy!

If it was easy, it would be called football.

If you lack the strength, use your smarts.

Like a fox!

Keep climbing. Nice work!

Great, Lise!

Awesome!

Keep going.

Come out a little.

Great, Lise!

Good job.

You're making good progress.

Great, Lise!

My kind of climbing...

Rock on!

Totally classic!

Now I need to do the linkup.

I should have listened to Sean and put the gloves since the beginning.

But I wanted to be a tough girl.

What we come looking for here

is somewhat of a long-lost ideal

from back when climbing rhymed

with the anti-establishment counterculture.

Even though times have changed

El Chaltén

still has this chimera-like flavor.

Time flies by, while waiting for the right weather window.

So between gusts of wind and downpours

we climb to stay in shape.

It would be an exaggeration

to say that the weather here is great.

Instead of windows

we have “portholes” of good weather.

And we need a wall-spanning bay window.

So, when the first spell of good weather arrives

we are ready to go.

I’m going to cross the river where Poincenot died.

I hope that I'll manage.

I'm scared!

My pack is not very light.

C’mon Fanny, you’re almost there!

What a pain in the butt...

And it gives you sore abs!

There's a whole lot of white...

Where are we going?

Over there, but...

It's complicated...

But before ever touching the rock

we had other walls to climb.

The ones that you can’t see.

The judgmental gazes

naysayers

and snide remarks.

Like rusty old bolts

drilled into our heads.

It’s too far

too difficult

too big.

Or simply, you're too small...

Women’s chimeras

being a climber in the 21st century

Oddly enough, our friends believe more in us than we do.

They see three hardcore climbers.

We focus on our limitations.

As if ambition and being a woman

don’t go together.

And believe me

this route is steeper

than a north face.

As women in mountain sports

we spend a lot of energy on a quest for legitimacy,

experiencing a kind of imposter syndrome.

So we tend to always try to prove

that we are legit.

And being legit in mountain sports

means showing that you know how to take risks.

The big difference when compared to other sports

is that you put your life on the line.

And that's in real contrast to most other athletic endeavors.

If I have a kid one day

I’m almost 100% sure that I’ll stop doing all this.

Everyone has their creature comforts...

Did you put on your comfy sweater?

And my Buff as an eye mask.

Only blue on the horizon...

When I tell my girlfriends that this is my idea of a vacation...

Wearing a down parka...

So ready or not

the good weather window is here.

And our plan is to spend three days climbing the route.

Maud is touching Cerro Torre.

It's over there.

Okay, Fanny.

Off belay!

Slowly but surely ladies!

Hey there, Mr.Fitz...

Working hard.

All good, ladies?

Our secret weapon...

We simply love...

Aid climbing...

Excellent.

Maud, the best thing to do is...

I heard you mumbling...

To have the right cams for what’s next

I think you should back clean.

For years, the route had remained in the shadows

as if trapped in a rocky tomb.

Had its chopped bolts and controversial past

scared climbers away?

And yet, several teams were in the same place at the same time.

On day two, our American friends above us

enjoyed a five-star campsite.

A sunny terrace.

With amazing views.

The good life at 3000 meters elevation.

Whereas we had to adapt

rolling out our sleeping bags on a sloping ledge.

With no spa or room service

only a vertigo-inducing drop

and the wind turned up to eleven.

So...

Tomorrow, it’s a race to see who starts climbing first.

In the end, the guys climbed ahead of us.

Hard to believe that even here

we would have to deal with traffic...

Maud and Patagonian mushrooms.

Maud’s happy.

Fanny's happy.

I’ll be happier when we’re no longer beneath the ice mushrooms.

I'm not a big fan.

Me neither.

The route is truly exceptional

because the climbing is simply stellar.

Every section is unique.

You go from granite

to 60 meters of steep

grade V ice, up a surreal chimney.

There’s just enough room to climb.

It's like a mirror.

And then all of a sudden

you put away your crampons and ice axes

and grab your climbing shoes for the headwall.

You go from the most amazing pitch of ice

to the most amazing pitches of granite. Insane.

C'mon Fanny.

I'm going to take my time.

No worries.

Wow, a pendulum near the top of Cerro Torre!

Aahh, the rope's over an edge! Scary, hold on a sec...

We divided up the pitches before starting the route.

Each of us wanted to lead an iconic section of the climb.

Maud and Fanny left me the last pitch.

The final pitch is daunting.

You’re close to the top.

The pressure’s building.

It's intimidating.

The rock is wet,

and a bit brittle.

In addition to all that

the pitch is run out.

I’d been thinking about the last pitch for a month.

Visualizing the moves

while biking through El Chalten.

“I'm climbing the route, I'm moving...

climbing smooth...

The runouts are no big deal...”

I spent one month seeing myself at the top of the pitch!

So when I started up the pitch

I was ready.

When you climb to the top of the last pitch

you still haven’t reached the summit.

But right then and there I screamed for joy!

As the Americans descended

They said, “Clip in to the anchor first.”

And then I realized

that we’re going stand on the summit of Cerro Torre.

The true summit of Cerro Torre, and all to ourselves.

Splendid, don't you think?

On the descent, we had our own brush with history.

At the anchor, we finally set foot

on Maestri’s compressor

that he left in place

a half-century ago...

The new variation goes around it on the ascent,

but on the rappel

you can’t miss it.

Hey ladies, where are we?

We’re standing on the compressor!

It’s practical, and makes for a nice ledge.

It would have been nice to use on the ascent.

I find this spot a little unnerving.

Even though I keep saying to myself, “It's just a rappel,

like any other.”

Not the same as rappelling in the Verdon Gorge, is it?

Yep.

This is simply insane.

Ciao!

This is definately insane...

We still had a long way to go...

So, what did you learn from this adventure?

Well...

when you think you’ve reached the summit,

the real journey you're on is actually within.

In addition,

I think that...

we don't need you anymore.

Yes, indeed...

See you later, Miss Billon...

My chimera,

I’m not looking to catch it

when it appears on top of Cerro Torre.

In a world designed by men,

we continue to climb just as we learned to live,

where, based on an old set of rules,

every move, every breath requires restraint.

And we,

as women,

are now opening doors closed for a long time.

With care,

but with no need to apologize.

We live and let live.

Mountaineering,

a theater from yesteryear,

is splitting at the seams

and freeing up new routes for others to follow.

Climbing,

so liberating,

existing through every breath.

I continue chasing my chimera,

not to catch her,

but to feel, time and time again,

everything that she inspires.