Climbing the Matterhorn
Climbing the Matterhorn
Switzerland 2013
I have been asked to relate my trials and tribulations on the Matterhorn a few years ago to a friend who is climbing the mountain later this year. So I thought I would share it....
I arrived at the Hornli Hut (3200m), beside the main face of the Matterhorn at about 4 in the afternoon. My guide, Martin, who I had booked through the Zermatt Mountain Guide Office a month earlier, came to meet me at 6. I remember him looking me up and down, probably thinking that this old man (I was 54 at the time) wouldn't be making it too far on the mountain the next day. He proceeded to go through my kit, piece by piece, often muttering disapproval and when he got to my strap on crampons firmly told me that these would get me killed and I could not wear them. Fortunately the hut warden found me some clip on crampons which, together with my B2 (crampon compatible stiffer soled boots), kept me in the frame for the next day. Martin was about 30, very experienced, UIAGM (the top Swiss guiding qualification) qualified and very short with words. In fact I remember him telling me very little apart from: breakfast at 3.30, leave hut at 4, wear only a T shirt on my upper body (it was minus something that night) and that, if I didn't make the Solvay hut (an emergency hut about 2/3rds up the mountain), it would be game over and he would take me off the mountain. I believe the rationale was that if I didn't pass that test there was no way I would be fit enough to get to the top (the Matterhorn is 4500m high). I would keep this time in my head throughout the early part of the climb.
That night I dined with fellow 'would be ascenders' and the guides dined separately together. I remember thinking them a little aloof and slightly haughty when being disturbed to answer my layman's last minute questions (despite having paid around 900 euros to hire one). I slept (tried to sleep) in a dormitory of 20 others and at 3 am the lights came and everyone came to life, clambering off the bunks, putting on boots, last minute kit checks and trying to go to the toilet (not easy at 3 am). We were all down for breakfast at 3.30 and at precisely 3.50 we were all paraded by the front door roped up to our guide (for the Matterhorn it's always a 1:1 guide/client ratio). There was a rigid pecking order. If you had a Zermatt guide you were at the front, if you had a non Zermatt UIAGM guide you were second, and if you had a non UIAGM qualified mountain guide you were at the back. I guess this was because the Zermatt guides felt they were the quickest on the mountain and wanted to avoid being caught in any bottle necks.
At bang on 4am the hut warden opened the front door and I remember my trepidation as off we went, head torches on, into a black but starry night. If I recall correctly I was 3rd pair from the front.
Immediately the pace was relentless. We shot over the snowy shoulder of rock between the hut and the face and within 5 minutes we were hauling ourselves, behind our guide, up the fixed ropes to get on the face.
It was all a bit of a blur for the first hour or so. I was desperately conscious of not falling behind my guide but after 30 minutes or so found some comfort that we were at least keeping up with the pairs in front. I do not remember too much about the lower part of the mountain. It was dark, always up, a mixture of scrambling and climbing with Martin occasionally telling me to stop whilst he fixed the rope around a static iron stake (strategically placed above the steep bits) to protect me as I climbed up to him. Looking down I could see a stream of headlamps bobbing up and down as the other 40 or so climbers and guides progressed up the route behind us. I was on the point of near exhaustion very quickly but knew (having climbed Mt Elbrus 5700m the week before) that I should be quite well acclimatised. Nonetheless I was begging to ask (but too proud and also worried that in so doing it might indicate imminent signs of failure) for a short break to get my breath back. A break never came. Endlessly we moved upwards. An hour passed and with it the realisation and hope that I was probably still hanging in there. Martin barely spoke to me, there was no small talk, almost giving the impression that he wasn't going to waste his words on someone he felt wasn't going to be around for long. Around 5.45 am two things happened. Dawn was coming and I could suddenly see the Solvay hut above me. I think we had overtaken one of the pairs ahead of us but until then I was still concerned with my time. Seeing the hut lifted my spirits, thinking that perhaps we would not be turning around. We arrived after a couple of quite steep pitches around 6 am and at last, I thought, we would have a break. But no, we kept on going, climbing the technically trickiest bit of the climb just above the hut until we arrived at the foot of first band of snow (there are 2 snow bands on the Hornli Ridge route). At last we stopped but not so much for a break, although there was time to take on water and have a bite of a Mars bar, but to put our crampons on. I also received my first words of encouragement from Martin. Perhaps knowing that he now had to take me to the top he deemed to speak.
The break was short lived and now, in morning sunlight, we proceeded up the first snow band. A few rocks here and there to hold on to and the occasional stretch of old hawser rope to aid balance. Around me, when I dared lift my head to look around, the landscape had come alive with other mountains, most notably the Breithorn and the little Matterhorn falling away below us. The angle was steep and the faces on either side of the ridge pretty shear but at no point did I feel frightened. This was probably because I felt in safe and capable hands and there was really no time to mull on feelings of insecurity . By the time we hit the second snow band I was really feeling it and felt that I had slowed down appreciably. I could feel the debilitating effects of the altitude (I had learnt the hard way in the Himalaya 20 years previously) as well finding my legs and arms stiffening up and general exhaustion setting in. This, despite the diamox (controversial drug that aids altitude acclimatisation but not everyone's recommendation) and the experience I had had on Elbrus the previous week.
As we started to the second snow band Martin lengthened the rope between us, probably to about 5m, and he climbed straight up kicking steps (generally into the same steps that the pair ahead of us had used) with me placing my feet directly into the same holes. I was still in my single shirt but not in the slightest bit cold and now just looking at the snow in front of my face and methodically following in Martin's footsteps. Suddenly Martin broke to the left and traversed above me. No more than 50m away I could see the lead pair arriving on the summit ridge. Another couple of zigzags and we were there too. Standing on a very narrow snowy knife edge with the sides falling dramatically away and in the sun and feeling its warmth. Inexplicably I caught a crampon (where one of your crampons catches your trousers on your other foot) and stumbled - Martin shouting at me loudly to concentrate and me quickly coming to my senses. We stayed there not much more than a couple of minutes. Time for a photo of each other and for Martin to point out a few of the mountains below.
Then we descended, to make room for others and just as the 3rd pair reached the ridge. We moved quickly down the mountain taking a very direct but slightly different route to the one we came up. Martin had adjusted the rope on my harness so that it was attached to my back. He literally lowered me down telling me to lean forward, put my weight on the rope and walk straight down as he gradually let the rope out. He would then shout to me to stop, establish a firm footing and he would descend to join me. The process would continue like this, rappell after rapell with him often throwing a half hitch knot (a friction knot used to control descent) around a metal stake, drilled into the rock, to take weight. About 2/3rds down the mountain with the end and the Hornli hut clearly in sight we caught up with the lead pair and all sat together, talking, and having something to eat and drink. I was elated. Martin, really for the first time, opened up telling me about his Swiss childhood and his climbing experiences in the Alps, Himalaya and North America.
We reached the hut about an hour later, about noon, and he untied me from the rope. I bought him a beer, we bonded for a few minutes, him calling me a "fit old man", (which I took as complement) before he said goodbye and joined his other guides who by now were trooping onto the sun terrace by the hut, job done. I never saw him again and believe that he was staying another night to repeat the process with a client the next morning.
So it was an amazing experience. I was fortunate, the weather had been perfect (most ascents fail or are called off because the mountain is not in condition (too much ice) or the weather is bad) and I was in pretty good shape from the acclimatisation on Elbrus the week before. I also had a great guide, one who you are forced to trust 100% with your life.
