It Almost Didn't Happen

I had scheduled my climb day for Wednesday August 7th, but by Sunday the weather forecast showed a system coming in on Tuesday and looked like it would be socked in for a week after that. I knew if I wasn't able to reschedule my climb to an earlier date, I would not be even be making an attempt. So I headed down to the Alpine Climbing Center. The office staff agreed that no guides would be going from Wednesday on, so they called all the guides they had on their roster but couldn't find anyone available. However there was one guide they were unable to contact and they were hoping that he would chime in before they closed at noon. It was starting to look very disappointing indeed.

Then, at a quarter to twelve, the office phone rang. It was the last guide that they were hoping would call and he said he'd take me up the next day. Instantly I switched from major disappointment to sheer excitement. My internal dialogue was already gearing up to explain to everyone back home how I came close, but never got a foot on the Matterhorn. Suddenly it was just the opposite. I raced back to my hotel room, packed my climbing gear and headed for the lift.

The Approach

The first leg of the climb is on a gondola lift to Schwarzee. Summit bound climbers are just a small fraction of the folks who use this lift. The mountain bike trails back to town would be a blast. There are also bookoo hiking trails going every direction, or some simply come up for the views or a very expensive lunch at the restaurant.

The trail to the top starts out in alpine meadows similar to those I hiked through and slept on in the days and nights leading up to today. And if you find a hotel that will let you use their shower every now and then like I did, sleeping under the stars can save a lot of cash!

The meadows fade away pretty fast though, and you're left with your typical glacier carved rock-scape. This cat walk cracked me up. The rock buttress reminded me of Steamboat Prow on Rainier, but getting to the top of this was a no brainer.

Once on top of the prow, the mountain didn't look all that much closer. You can almost make out the Hornli Hut in this shot, or at least the bench on which it sits. It's about half way up the ridge from this perspective. Follow the sharp white/grey line on the Matterhorn Glacier (on the right slopes of the mountain) from right to left, then keep your eye going in the same direction until you reach the ridge. That's my destination for this day.

Once on the lower slopes of the mountain, things begin to get a little more interesting. The trail is still very easy to follow, but it becomes more of a scramble.

The weather wasn't looking great, but I didn't let that worry me. I was on my way and that was enough for now.

Check-in was at 3:30 in the dining room and I made it just in time to be last in line. There were only 30 climbers checked in for the night and I was told this was a light number. Most good-weather days you can expect double or triple that number. This was good news as the congested fixed lines high on the mountain would be much easier to pass. I got my bunk assignment and a dinner ticket, then headed off to explore.

There were several bunk rooms for climbers and a separate one for guides. Since the climber count was low, there was at least one empty space between every body. Again, I was glad for the lack of climbers.

Reconnaissance

The Hörnli Hut was interesting, but I really wanted to get out and see the start of the route. I met a group of climbers and their guides who were on their way out to do the same so I followed along to listen and learn. Jim, a climber from England and his guide Adam had been climbing together for a week or so around the area, along with Tommy who was from Canada. Since the guide ratio on the Matterhorn is 1-1, Tommy climbed with a new (to him) guide named Dylan. We would all end up on the summit together the next day.

It was sure good to talk to climbers whose first language was English! I wished I'd met these guys earlier in the week, because one of their climbers had to bail on the trip at the last minute and I could have taken his place and joined them on some more involved climbs (things I wouldn't do solo).

It was around 5:00 in the afternoon and there were several independent groups of climbers heading up for some reason. We didn't talk to them, but speculated that they were either getting a preview of the bottom of route (which is the trickiest route finding challenge), or they were planning on staying overnight at the Sovay hut (which is only supposed to be used in case of emergency). Either way it was nice to see someone on route to get a better perspective of what I would be doing in less than twelve hours.

A short trail takes you from the hut to the true start of the climb.

This section is done in the dark so if I hadn't had a guide, I myself would be exploring it midafternoon.

Andy and Dylan were able to describe the route, and explain how these guys went off route. I think it would be fun to do my own route finding on this climb if I was sure I had the weather window to take more time at it. Especially on the ascent. The descent would be another matter though. Making a bad choice on the decent could get you in trouble pretty quick!

After scoping out the route, we headed back to the hut. The hut was under a major renovation which will double its size. They say though that it won't double the climber load. That's limited by the bottle necks on the route, not the hut capacity. This was simply to allow more people who want to make the hut their high point to visit and sleep.

Once back at the hut, I met my guide. Luke is a Canadian guide who comes to Switzerland for the Matterhorn guiding season. Turns out that Tommy climbed and skied with Luke’s dad many times in Canada over the years. They didn't know they had a connection until they met on this climb.

Again, I felt fortunate to have been assigned an American (as in he lives in North America) guide. All the guides I met were very nice, but after reading all the horror stories of people who hated their guides, I was relieved to meet Luke and find him a very likable dude.

We did a very quick gear check, and then all the climbers and their guides gathered in the dining area for a very tasty and filling dinner. Listening to the nervous jabber fill the room, the beat of my heart began to quicken as the final hours before my long awaited climb raced away.

Summit Day

Sleep was broken and light, but I expected that. Around 3:30 or so, head lamps (er... I mean head torches) started lighting up, and everyone started quietly gearing up. Nobody spoke. We were climbing together, yet none on the same team, so it was up to each to make sure we had what was needed.

We gathered in the dining area and after a quick breakfast (toast and jam), the guides joined us. Luke tied me in to his rope without even asking, or caring if I knew how... I had to laugh. Then the whole hut full of climbers marched to the stairs. The first guide to the door stopped there and the rest of us piled in behind, the line circling back up the stairs.

There's a strict hut rule that no party will leave for the climb prior to 4:20. So we all waited like an amphibious assault unit waiting for a beach landing. Somebody counted down the final seconds and we poured out through the door into darkness.

The moment we got on the rock, any nervousness I might have had completely disappeared and was replaced by pure excitement for the climb. I was in my element and was having the time of my life. The pace was fast, but the rock was fast too. Good hand and foot holds everywhere you needed them. We went full speed for the first forty-five minutes or so. I think Luke was testing me a little, waiting for me to ask him to slow down. I wondered how long I would be able to keep up the pace, but I was having too much fun to ask to slow it down.

By the time we turned off our head lamps, we were a thousand feet above the hut.

Here we are rounding the corner to the base of the Lower Moseley Slab. The Lower Moseley and Upper Moseley Slabs are about at the halfway point and the two combined make one of the more challenging sections of the climb, with the Solvay Hut parked between them.

The Lower Moseley was our first little bottle neck, but it was actually a welcomed slowage. A chance to catch your breath and look around a little extra.

The Solvay Hut is right above us, but getting there took longer than it looks like it should.

Looking down from about halfway up the Lower Moseley.

I was a little surprised at the size of some of the loose rocks here. I thought that after several hundred years of climbers scrambling up and down this route that everything would be pretty solid. But there were still tire sized rocks that shifted under foot right in the high traffic areas.

We continued climbing pretty fast, but slow enough to take care around the loose stuff. A lot of the climbing injuries involve rock fall through this section. Seems every guide had a story or two to tell about a close call here.

The sun broke over the horizon, as we continued up the slab.

A few more short bouldering moves and we were at the Solvay Hut.

I read somewhere that the guides expect you to make it to the Solvay in two hours or so. If getting here takes too long that's as far as you go. It's actually a little over have way in elevation, but on average about half way in time to the summit. The descent talks just as long as the ascent, so we were about a quarter of the way through our climb.

We didn't stop for a rest here as a lot of parties do. And I was fine with that since it looked a lot prettier than it smelled. I guess the latrine inside was the best enforcer of the "only for emergency use" rule that they could come up with.

The Upper Moseley continued with steep rock with ample foot and hand holds.

I was having so much fun climbing that I didn't give the weather a second thought. The forecast for the day was good, and so far hadn't disapointed. But when the clouds started piling up against the side of the upper mountain it snapped me out of my "nothing can go wrong" mindset. I couldn't help but think about the thunder storm that rolled through the day before and how quickly things can change. I tried to think of some over-the-top optimistic point of view to share with Luke, just so he would be less inclined to disappoint me if the weather turned on us. But decided to keep quiet and just let the universe unroll on its own.

The "shoulder" of the ridge is draped in the cloud here. From below, this looks like one of the more difficult sections, but there weren't really any difficult moves.

My weather concerns were short lived. Once we got through this patch of cloud, it was clear for the rest of the day.

That's Simon and his guide above us. Simon was the only one I met that was close to my age. It was nice to have another old fart on the route.

Our pace had slowed a bit, but we were still holding our own compared to the other client/guide groups. And I'm sure we were way ahead of all the independant climbers.

This is what they call mixed climbing. Switching between snow/ice and rock every few feet. The snow sections weren't terribly steep in the direction we were climbing though, so we left the crampons in our packs for a while longer.

We had been climbing all morning without a stop (well nothing more than a minute or two anyway). This is what they tell you to expect and this is what you get. It's what I had trained for, but I couldn't train at elevation so I was a little worried that I would be dogging us down. I was very happy that that wasn't the case. I was feeling strong and kept up with Luke step for step without a miss. In fact, he lost his footing and did a little slip and slide dance more often than I did.

I guess it goes without saying if you have a fear of heights, you don't belong on any mountain little lone this one. I had my camera mounted on my chest strap so I could snap off pictures quickly and without too much hassle. This is the view when I tilted it straight down, past my feet. As we made our way to the top of the shoulder.

I have to admit that climbing on steep snow without crampons or even an ice axe was a little unnerving.

Along in here somewhere (I didn't get a picture) was a move that would have been the crux of the whole climb had it not been for a two-rung chain ladder and fixed line that had been installed. According to Brian Bonner (Matterhorn Vision), this move once had a good hand hold which was intentionally destroyed to make it more difficult, thus making it more likely people would use guides. However, the plan back fired causing many guides to turn back with clients at that point. It didn't take too many frustrated clients before the chain ladder was installed. I would have liked to try the move without the aid of the ladder, but as expected, we were in too much of a hurry to play around on it.

Once on top of the shoulder, we stopped to put on crampons.

There was still a lot of rock climbing ahead of us, but there was enough snow and ice mixed in that I was happy to have them on.

Across the glacier and above the lateral moraine on the other side of the valley, is a 100 foot waterfall. I hiked around the other side of the valley in the days leading up to the climb, just hoping that I would get the chance to see it from this angle.

Since we short-roped the whole climb, and Luke carried all the extra rope I was climbing lighter than ever before. The only thing in my pack was a fliece, my wind/rain shell, extra gloves, some snackage, water and a couple of Cokes for our descent.

Here we are at the bottom of the fixed lines. There are several hundred feet of fixed lines set up on the upper slopes, making this an easy section.

Usually it's hard to capture the exposure that you feel on a climb like this in pictures, but on this climb it's hard not to capture it. That's a couple thousand feet of nothing between us and the North Face glacier.

I tried to climb without using the fixed line wherever I could, but if it slowed our progress at all, I was encouraged to grab the line.

I wish I could take some of this rock back home with me. So many walls to climb and so little time.

The fixed lines are anchored with these iron eyelets mounted in the rock. In fact, most of the route can be protected from these irons, even far below there are irons on most of the really exposed pitches.

Keep in mind that we're still climbing in crampons. I actually think they make this stuff a littel easier. You can stand on just about any little ledge. They're almost better than rock shoes.

When we used the irons, we never clipped in, just wrapped the rope a couple of turns and used a hip or body belay to protect each other. It made travel very fast and I never felt like I was under protected.

There were a few places here and there, that Luke uncoiled the rope for a long solo lead pitch, but for the most part we simul-climbed everything.

I knew we were getting close to the summit as we met our first descending climbers. I watched U-Tube videos of the traffic jams in this section of the route, and was glad there were so few climbers ahead of us.

The crampons helped, but still, I would have felt better in places with an ice axe in my hand. If either one of us had slipped here, there's no way we could have arrested our fall.

The guide service use to allow two or even three clients per guide, but the way the guides explain it, they were losing too many good guides! No mention of the number of clients that were killed. He said the rate of guides falling to their deaths has dropped considerably since they changed the policy.

It was right around here that Luke said he had to turn around the day before because of heavy hail. He had been guiding a Japanese lady who didn't take the decision very graciously. Despite her arguing and tears this would be their high point. He said she cried all the way back to the hut. Others that day had made it to the summit, but parties that succeeded were much faster and were already on their way down when the storm hit.

We stopped to congratulate Adam and Jim who had just come off the summit. Everybody was jazzed for having perfect weather and climbing conditions.

A few minutes later we were on the summit ridge. That's Simon and his guide making their way back from the high point.

The ridge path is only a few inches wide with great views on both sides.

Luke asked me to put the camera away and pay attention here, but I couldn't help myself. Note to self: Next time turned off the shutter sound.

Simon's guide was one of the only actual Swiss guides I met. And to be honest, he didn't seem as friendly as the Canadian and British guides. I think a lot of it just had to do with the language differences.

And after six months of anticipation and training, there I was. On the summit of The Matterhorn.

Even after reading numerous books and trip reports about this climb, I still didn't have a really solid confidence that I had what it would take to reach this point. Some say it's the hardest thing they had ever done, while others say it was easy scrambling. And of course some stay on route and others don't which means they're not even comparing the same climb. Without the knowledge of where our scales of difficulty lined up it was always on my mind that I might be getting in over my head on this trip.

It was a relief to be on the summit, because now there were no more surprises. No more worries about the weather, or the crowds or my ability. Only two more hurdles to cross. The decent, and my boots. I knew most of the climbing mishaps happen on the way down because of fatigue, speed and laziness. So we still had to focus. And I wouldn't drop concern about my feet until I was back at the hut. Although I've been climbing with this pair of mountaineering boots for around ten years now, they're actually a poor fit and I knew I was under a time limit before they became too painful to climb in. So I didn't want to sit around too long.

It was time for the second half.

The Descent

Turning back toward Zermatt, we could see more climbers were gathering on the summit slopes as we made our way back across the ridge.

It's interesting to Google all the crazy things people do from this point, like skiing the North Face or ski base jumping off the summit (see links below). Makes me cringe.

Tommy and Dylan were on their way up as we passed on our way down, so we stopped for some more pictures. Tommy was pretty excited about getting a shot of him and Luke so he could send it to Luke’s dad.

That's Simon tied off on the neck of statue in the background. Cracked me up a bit.

We crossed paths with several climbers as we descended through the fixed lines. Everyone was friendly and cordial. There was only one guy who got a little perturbed but I didn't blame him a bit.

Luke was tied into an iron anchor and had belayed me down to the next iron post below. Another pair of climbers on their way up were also at the same pair of irons. The bottom one (next to me) was still tied in, and their lead climber (next to Luke) was just arriving at the upper anchor. If it were up to me, I would have waited until their lead climber was tied in, and let the lower climber untie before I wrapped my rope. But Luke was insistent that I tie in right over the top of them, forcing them to wait until Luke down climbed to my position before they could continue. I'm still not sure what the point was. I think it was one of those unwritten guide rules that says something like "never give an un-guided climber a break". So I stood there on this tiny platform belaying Luke down while listening to the lower climber give me an ear-full. At least it was in German so nothing he said could offend.

I had imagined that I would have to down climb the whole thing, but the steepest parts all had iron anchors in just the right places (provided you can find them). With the benifit of fixed lines, and Luke belaying me down the irons, our descent went very fast. Knowledge of Anchor locations is the type of information you're paying for when you hire a guide. Route finding some of the lower sections on the descent would could get pretty slow.

If you haven't noticed yet, all the fixed lines are those fat climbing ropes you might find in a grade school gym. There's no clipping into them, you just grab on and climb. Again, everything set up is designed for speed. When I say we tied into anchors, what that really means is that we wrapped our rope a couple of times around an iron post for a running belay. We never clipped in to anything.

This was the son of one of the guides on his first ascent. Talk about an awesome childhood experience!

The weather held all day so although this group is quite far behind, they likely made it to the top.

We were buzzed several times by sight-seeing helicopters. Of course the climbers were one of the points of interest on the mountain.

Hard to believe there are at least sixty climbers on this route. It felt more like we had the whole mountain to ourselves.

This was a fun section. Sorta puts Angel's Landing in it's place.

The guides don't really explain everything that they think about while on the climb. Here for example, it looks like Luke may be day dreaming about the Beer Brats that he was planning on munching when he got back to town, but he's really thinking about jumping. That's what he's trained to do here if I should fall. If I were to fall of the left side of the ridge for example, he has a split second to jump off the right side in order to save both our lives.

The bottom section can be somewhat of a bowling alley. Luke said that on one of his earlier climbs, they got to this section, which feels like you're nearly done, and took off his helmet for a little extra ventilation. Then someone above knocked some boulders loose and one the size of a basketball hit him on the head, but didn't take him out. His wife made him promise to wear his helmet all the way to the hut after that.

We got back to the hut, just in time for my feet to explode out of my mountaineering boots. After a short rest and a $7 dollar Coke, I force myself to put my mountaineering boots back on for the hike back to the lift. I really wished that I had brought my hiking boots to the hut. The hike back to the lift ended up to be lowest section of the whole climb.

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Skiing the North Face or Ski Base Jumping off the summit