“This journey reinforced my belief that (...) escapism is not about conquering or winning, but connecting to the natural world and the people along the way.”
Connecting with the natural world means something different to everyone. For Lise Wortley, it’s taking on Mont Blanc in hobnail boots and 186 year-old garms. Proper old-school, bonnet n’ all. Henriette d'Angeville did it first, Lise follows tracks nearly two centuries later. It’s just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right…
Get acquainted with Lise over a few Qs and a cuppa, here.
Written by Lise Wortley
Images by Grace Taylorson Smith Pritchard
When I was 16, I picked up a book that would change the course of my life. My Journey to Lhasa is a memoir by an explorer named Alexandra David-Néel and recounts the final stages of her epic 14-year journey through Asia to reach Tibet and the forbidden city of Lhasa in 1924. Battling freezing temperatures, altitude and illness, and covering huge distances on foot, Alexandra became the first European woman to meet the Dalai Lama, and the first to enter Lhasa, which was closed off to foreigners at the time. Her aim was to learn about Buddhism. After all, it wasn’t like today when we have the internet at our fingertips.
I became obsessed with Alexandra’s story and frustrated I’d never been taught about pioneering women like her. I began to research other adventurous women from history, who achieved incredible feats, but who were never given the same recognition as their male counterparts. Learning about these women and following their journeys also helped to ease the severe anxiety I was suffering from throughout my twenties, and I found that being in nature helped to calm my mind.
“ I found myself stepping out onto the Glacier du Tour above Chamonix, dressed head-to-toe in itchy woollen tweed, hobnail boots and a rather fancy bonnet.”
My project, Woman with Altitude , aims to highlight these women adventurers from history whose lack of visibility continues to have knock-on effects for women in the outdoor and adventure world today. To celebrate their ground-breaking achievements, I follow in their footsteps using and wearing only clothing and equipment they had at the time. I choose this over soft leggings and warm snuggly fleeces, as I would never truly understand what they went through in modern clothing. It’s a way I can learn first-hand the difficulties they faced and understand their writing on a deeper level, which is often lacking in personal detail.
This is how, in early September, I found myself stepping out onto the Glacier du Tour above Chamonix, dressed head-to-toe in itchy woollen tweed, hobnail boots and a rather fancy bonnet. I was following in the footsteps of Henriette d’Angeville, the first woman to summit Mont Blanc unaided.
Out of the hundreds of adventurous women I’ve researched, I was particularly drawn to Henriette’s story, an example of how some pioneering women fought back against society's ideas of who they should be and how they should act. For example, bloomers came into fashion in the 1850s, and it wasn’t until the 1870s when the bicycle became more mainstream, that trousers for women became more acceptable. The bicycle emancipated women in many ways, allowing them to travel to work and social events more freely, but clothing-wise too, as cycling in corsets and long dresses was just not practical.
“It’s not like today where we have weather apps to guide us, all they had was a thermometer and a good eye for clouds on the horizon.”
So unfortunately for Henriette in 1838, she missed the trouser revolution by about 50 years, which makes her stepping out in front of a ‘disapproving crowd’ in her controversial trousers and woollen dress even more impressive, as she set off to summit Europe’s highest mountain. She was ahead of her time in so many ways, smashing stereotypes and paving the way for future generations of women. It was this pioneering spirit I was attempting to channel on the glacier, as I slipped around in my hobnail boots while navigating the complications of a wild wee in 12 kg of wool and Victorian underwear.
For her expedition, Henriette also took six male porters, 24 roast chickens, 18 bottles of wine, a blancmange and a whole host of other slightly unnecessary items. Today it seems excessive to take all these provisions on a three-day trip up a mountain, but back then they had no idea how long they may be gone, what the weather would do or how long they could be stranded if a storm blew in. It’s not like today where we have weather apps to guide us, all they had was a thermometer and a good eye for clouds on the horizon.
I’d always dreamt of reaching the summit of Mont Blanc on 4th September, the same day Henriette had, but I knew this was risky. As our climate changes, the weather becomes unpredictable, and we arrive in Chamonix to one of the hottest Septembers on record. As temperatures increase each year, climbing the mountain becomes more dangerous as the permafrost melts, rockfall becomes less predictable and more frequent, especially across one section of the climb called the Grand Couloir.
“Outdoor clothing has come a long way for women in the last 200 years, and I realised how much it held women like Henriette back.”
After three days of training, and multiple decisions to cancel the climb there was a sudden drop in temperature, so we took our chance. Joined by mountain guide Karen, and filmmaker Grace, we began our ascent to our first overnight stop, the Refuge de Tête Rousse.
What should have been a three-hour climb took us over five, and with the hot, itchy wool rubbing on my skin, all I could think about was lightweight tops and breathable shorts. My hobnail boots would slip on the rocks, and I needed constant reassurance from Karen on the technical sections, ‘small steps, trust the shoes’. Outdoor clothing has come a long way for women in the last 200 years, and I realised how much it held women like Henriette back.
That night, as we sipped tea and made plans for the next morning, Karen checked the weather. It wasn’t looking good. A storm was coming, and to reach the summit we would have to cut out the next night in the hut above, continue up and come all the way down again before lunchtime. It just wasn’t going to happen for me in the old equipment.
We were the only women in the refuge that night, and it was frustrating to watch all the male climbers prepare their piles of high-tech kit ready for their ascent. Gutted, I laced up my boots and began the long, painful descent back down. It occurred to me how much society and tech has changed since Henriette was here, and how humbling it is to still be at the mercy of mountains and weather.
“Attempting to outrun the same storm, we drove to Switzerland’s Oldenhorn, the last mountain Henriette climbed aged 69.”
The joy of adventuring with other women is that you pick each other up. Karen and Grace convinced me to continue onto plan b, so attempting to outrun the same storm, we drove to Switzerland’s Oldenhorn, the last mountain Henriette climbed aged 69. A lonely, distinctive peak, with a perfectly symmetrical triangular summit, I wondered why such a beautiful mountain wasn’t as famous as its nearby sisters. Naturally, I made us walk from the bottom (avoiding the cable car!) and eight hours and 3,123m later we were on the summit.
I never intentionally set out on this path, but as I stood on the summit of the Oldenhorn I knew this was where I was supposed to be. Through these women, I’ve found a way to escape the stresses and chaos of modern life, and a way to connect with nature and ease my anxiety. This journey reinforced my belief that adventure and escapism is not about conquering or winning, but connecting to the natural world and the people we meet along the way.
