When a Brand Backs a Soul: My Extreme Adventure with Charles Dubouloz and Richard Mille

When Richard Mille invited Watchonista to Chamonix for a firsthand look at the brand’s partnership with alpinist Charles Dubouloz, the goal was clear: to experience the extremes that define both man and brand.

What followed was a physically demanding and emotionally eye-opening journey across the Aiguille du Midi – an encounter with altitude, fear, and the quiet determination that drives one of the world’s most accomplished climbers.

This is what happens when a watchmaker invests not in image, but in the passion behind it.

I have to admit it: alpinism is not something I ever thought I would do. It’s not even something I ever thought I’d want to do. But when Richard Mille invited Watchonista to Chamonix to experience an extreme mountain adventure led by its new ambassador, Charles Dubouloz, I couldn’t say no. And honestly? I’m so glad I didn’t.

We arrived in Chamonix and went straight to get our gear for the next morning. I was genuinely surprised by how much equipment we needed for what would be just a few hours in the mountains. I’m talking ropes, harnesses, ice axes, crampons... everything. That night, we all met for dinner at a great Italian restaurant. And by chance (or fate?), I ended up sitting across from Charles.
 

From the moment he began talking, you could feel the passion. He’s got this deep connection to nature and a kind of calm intensity that makes you understand why he keeps going back to climb, even with all the risk involved. It’s like he sees something in the mountains that the rest of us miss. He even told us, “You don’t dominate the mountain. You listen to it.” And that stayed with me.

Then came the morning. I layered up (probably overdid it out of fear of freezing), and we all walked over to the cable cars, where we met our guides. Each person had either a one-on-one guide or shared with just one other person, which made everything feel super personal and safe. My guide, Julien, was amazing and helped calm my nerves.
 

As we ascended in the lift toward Aiguille du Midi, I kept popping my ears from the altitude. By the time we stepped off, my heart was already racing. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see the drop around me, which honestly helped at first. But once we started descending, the clouds cleared, and I realized... oh wow. This is really high. I eventually noticed the dizzying void on both sides of me, with only a narrow path of snow beneath my feet.

Too late to back out now.
 

Next came the altitude struggle. Breathing got harder, everything felt like a huge effort, and I reached a point where I just couldn’t continue. I felt frustrated with my body, with how hard everything was. Julien noticed right away and explained: at this elevation, the air pressure drops, and even though the oxygen percentage stays the same, there’s less air in every breath. That helped. A lot.

With his support (and honestly, the fantastic vibe of our whole group), I pushed through the panic. I started to appreciate my body for what it was doing – getting me through this, step by step.
 

At the mountain base, we took a quick pause, and Charles began to climb. From my perspective, it looked like a massive, unforgiving wall of rock. But for him? It was like a puzzle. He moved carefully, precisely – cold hands and all. Gloves mess up your grip, so bare hands it was, and I could see him struggle with the coldness of the stone. He mapped every move in advance, using every crack and edge to his advantage. It was incredible to watch.

He reminded me of a story he had shared about being in the Alps and getting overwhelmed by pressure, whether the source of stress is difficult people or a dangerous ascent. In the story, Charles’ friend Joseph had looked at him and said, “Her job is to sell blueberry tarts. Yours is to climb.” It made him laugh and helped him to let go of his fear.
 

In that moment on the glacier, I came to fully appreciate the lesson of that story: We all have our roles. Mine was simply to experience. To learn. And to keep walking. After a quick picnic, lots of water, and a hot coffee, it was time to head back. I’m not going to lie – the return was tough. The rest period had let my fatigue catch up with me. I felt drained emotionally and physically. But as Charles had said the night before, it’s about taking the next step. That’s all – just the next one.

And so, I did.
 

Back at the hotel, I collapsed onto the bed. Exhausted. But in the best possible way. It was that rare kind of exhaustion that feels like a reward – a full-circle moment. I had done something I never imagined I could do.

At one point during this adventure, Charles told me, “You either accept the risk, or you don’t. There is no in-between.” That stuck with me. And I realized, if he can face the edge of the earth with that kind of courage, maybe I can too, in my own way. And maybe so can you.

One step at a time.