A Dance with the Matterhorn

 

November 5,2020

I couldn’t imagine how they must have felt that day when the rope broke and their four companions fell 4,000 feet to their deaths from the summit slopes of the Matterhorn. The silence that followed those last yells, the rapidly fading screams as the four men fell beyond their sight into the void must have been deafening.  The three remaining climbers, frozen in terror, clinging to the rock-in stunned disbelief by the horror of what had just happened. There was no possibility whatsoever of any of the four surviving a fall from such a height.

(Gustave Dore)

 

The accident took place on July 14, 1865 and they were the first people to have ever reached the summit of the Matterhorn- that most iconic of all peaks in the Alps. The jagged summit tears its way into the sky to tower some 9,500 feet above the tiny village of Zermatt in Switzerland.  Reaching the top was a great victory for the seven of them- especially with so many other strong parties vying for the same goal.

 But how quickly triumph turned to tragedy that day. How quickly it went from the seven of them spending what leader Edward Whymper later described as a, ‘crowded hour of glorious life,’ atop that narrow blade of a summit to the nightmare that would haunt each of the three survivors until the end of their days. Especially Edward Whymper, who had always believed that if the rope hadn’t broken- the three of them could have held the four falling men and saved them.

Fast forward to August 1995 when Doug Dean and I stepped off the train in Zermatt with our packs full of alpine gear and our heads filled with the long held dream of attempting the Matterhorn ourselves. What had been a scarcely imaginable fantasy for me as a young boy was now a dream that could be realized. We had paid our dues, we had served out our climbing apprenticeships in the coast range, the Rockies,  Selkirks, Cascades, Bugaboos, other climbs in the Alps, frozen waterfalls and more rock routes in Squamish than we could remember. And now here we were in Zermatt- boots on the ground in this mythical place, hoping to fulfill that dream.

(The Matterhorn from the Swiss side. The Hornli route follows the center ridge.)

The summit of the Matterhorn at 14,690 feet is one of the highest peaks in the Alps- and one of the most famous peaks in the world. It had been storming in the Zermatt region for almost a week and there was only one good weather day predicted before the clouds rolled in again. Conditions on the upper section of the mountain were far from ideal but our time was limited and it was unlikely we’d get another chance.

Ideally, the best way to help the body adjust to altitude with the lower oxygen levels above ten thousand feet is to ‘climb high and sleep low’ –gradually increasing altitude over a period of several days to acclimatize before attempting a peak of that height. We didn’t have time to do that- but we’d do the best we could.

Once we had our gear settled in the hotel room at the lowest elevation in Zermatt at just over 5000 ft., we hiked up to the highest pub in the village and proceeded to sample a few very fine beers on our way down to the lowest pub. There, our altitude training was complete.

The next day, a gondola ride followed by a two hour hike brought us to the base of the Matterhorn where we camped at 10,700 feet- the height of Mt. Baker. We were well above treeline now and in an austere world of rock, ice and snow.  The peak itself was shrouded in mist and and yet the presence of it looming above us was palpable. A single forlorn looking rope hung down the east face- the lower reaches of which were above and across from us. It was an odd place for a rope to have been abandoned out there out in the middle of that blank sweep of steep rock. Everything about it seemed a mute testament to some kind of epic, some kind of accident. Doug and I sipped our tea and speculated as to what might have happened to whoever had last been on that rope. Frankly, it was kind of creepy.

Since that fateful day in 1865, more than 500 other climbers have died on the Matterhorn- roughly 200 more than have died on Mt. Everest. But then far more people attempt The Matterhorn each year. Accidents due to falls, inexperience, getting caught out high in a storm, altitude problems, rockfall, lightning and avalanches are a risk. But many, many people are drawn there each year and most -whether they reach the top or not, make it up and down without incident.

The alarm at two a.m. came loud and early. Unzip the tent and peer out- ‘Yup, I see stars. ‘We’re good to go.’ It took will power to crawl out of our nice warm sleeping bags and step into the freezing cold and dark. The stove was fired up to heat water while we dressed and packed for what would be a very long day. Stomping around to stay warm and wake up, we sipped hot tea, ate some nuts and dried fruit while gazing upwards at the outline of the soaring black mass of rock above us.

We were away by 2:30 and started picking our way up to the start of the Hornli Ridge above us. Only able to see what was in the pools of light from our headlamps, we muddled our way through the approach section and were soon onto the Hornli ridge proper. Route-finding became much easier. The terrain is not difficult on the lower part and we were able to make steady progress with some easy scrambling, a few steep steps here and there but little that we needed the rope for.

No one move on this route is particularly difficult but it is the totality of the route as a whole is makes it a much more serious climb than any one section of it would suggest. Four thousand vertical feet of alpine climbing beginning at over 10,700 feet makes for a long route- and then you also have to get down. It is a route that is often underestimated.

It began to get lighter as we neared 12,000 feet and we could see more clearly what lay ahead. The mountain was in far from ideal condition after so many days of storm. The upper 1500 feet was almost completely plastered with fresh snow and ice. This would make climbing more strenuous and more time consuming.

We didn’t really need the rope much until around 13,000 feet. While much of the route was very exposed and there was the possiblity of an unroped fall if one slipped or a hold broke off at the wrong time-it was a calculated risk. The benefit was that we could move faster together-and that was prudent on such a long route. Moving efficiently is a key safety factor in the mountains. Developing that ability to move fast and light over moderate alpine terrain whether going up or down can save a lot of time- and time can sometimes be a very precious commodity in mountaineering. Time in the bank can mean having options that you might not have otherwise if something goes wrong.

And that need is an integral part of the unique challenge of the Matterhorn. There simply wasn’t the time to safeguard every single move if we wanted to dance with the Matterhorn.

I knew Doug was solid and we climbed well together. We looked after one another in the mountains and had always made it safely home again- which is more important than any summit.

There was some margin for error in parts of the lower route- but not much. In other sections- especially on the uppermost part of the mountain where even with some fixed ropes in place, there was no margin for error.

We put crampons on, roped up and got our ice axes out for the last ~700 vertical feet to the top- which in these snow and ice plastered conditions was essentially a winter climb. At 14,000 feet, we were now  feeling the altitude, myself in particular being from a sea-level town and we had to slow our pace accordingly to keep moving steadily.

The upper Hornli Ridge above the shoulder and up the summit icefield is truly spectacular. High, wild, beautiful and incredibly exposed. To look down between my boots was to look down into a void of several thousand vertical feet. We were completely focused in the now of every moment. In such a place there simply wasn’t room for anything else.

A swing of the ice axe, the pick biting solidly and then one foot up kicked hard into the ice followed by the other foot. Two, ideally three solid points of contact at all times. Focus on each move and only that move-before beginning the next move. We belayed one another carefully and taking turns leading, slowly and surely, we climbed upwards on steep dazzling white ice into a vivid blue sky.

As I climbed, I felt the experience of different threads being woven together. One was that of myself as a wide-eyed young boy who never could have believed that one day I would ever even see the Matterhorn with my own eyes let alone actually attempt to climb it.

Another thread was that of the previous 133 years of very real Matterhorn history. We were climbing where almost every one of the most accomplished climbers in the world had been at one time or another. We were climbing on hallowed ground. We were following in the footsteps of climbing history.  

And then there was all those 500 some odd people who had gone up but had never made it back down alive. There were crosses, momentos and plaques of all sizes, languages and shapes in many places on the way up.

The ‘up’ never seemed to end and we were both tiring from the combination of lower levels of oxygen and physical exertion. We had looked up innumerable times, leaning out- hoping to get a glimpse of the summit but it just seemed to go on and on and on. It wasn’t until the moment we finally glimpsed the surreal sight of a statue of St. Bernard- patron Saint of the Alps close above that we knew we really were going to do it.

First of all, it was a great feeling of relief to finally step onto the narrow blade like summit. Relief after about 10 hours of steady climbing that now there was no more ‘up’. We couldn’t go any higher. And then the realization began to sink in, ‘Omigod! We’ve done it!  We’ve climbed the Matterhorn!’

(Doug and I on the summit!)

Remember this,’ I told myself, ‘Remember this moment.’ Picture taking, handshaking. Backslapping hugs of mutual gratitude and congratulation. ‘Wow! We did it!’

It felt so good to take our first real break. To sit in the sun in such a place and soak it all up. We ate our sausage and cheese lunch while sitting there on the summit- gazing out over an endless sea of peaks. There was Zermatt, nearly 10,000 feet below us, looking like a toy village nestled among tiny green hills. There was the snow and ice mass of Mt. Blanc looking like a cloud in the distance- the highest peak in the Alps, and one which we had very nearly summited a few years earlier.

But soon the reality that we were only halfway made itself felt. Now we had to get back down. Time-wise it would take us another six to eight hours to descend. Depending on conditions,it can actually be more difficult and time-consuming to descend the Matterhorn than it is to climb up it.

We drank the last of our water, packed up and using the statue of kindly St.Bernard as an anchor, we set off down on the first of many rappels.

On the second rappel from the summit, we found ourselves in the exact area where the terrible accident of 1865 had taken place. Looking around me at how steep and featureless the rock was, I had a surprising revelation. It was so obvious so clear, that there was no possible way the three surviving men could ever have stopped the fall of their four companions on such steep ground. The three of them were not attached to anything- and the ropes of those days lacked not only the strength but more importantly the elasticity of modern climbing ropes. If the rope hadn’t broken, the last three would have been yanked off in a split second by the combined weight of four falling men and all seven would have fallen to their deaths. Period. The rope breaking saved those three men. The other four were already doomed.

Rappelling made descending the upper part of the mountain much simpler. But after that there was also a lot of downclimbing which is always harder than climbing up. We used the rope more often to safeguard ourselves on the descent- knowing we were much more tired and needed to be careful.

I’ll always remember one spot about half way down the mountain. We were both climbing unroped down an easier section that turned into an awkward blind corner that we then had to climb around. Doug went first and then I followed. It started out as an easy sequence of moves but then there was an unexpected bulge that forced me to lean out over the void while reaching around with my right hand to find a hold I couldn’t see before being able to do the last few moves. But it was all there and I made it around the corner to where Doug was waiting. ‘That was a bit trickier than it looked,’ I commented. Doug said nothing but pointed to a plaque set in a little alclove of rock. Here was yet another memorial-and a picture of a happy smiling young man who had fallen off to his death from that very same tricky little bit that we had just completed. We just looked at each other for a moment and then carried on down.

We got back to our camp just as darkness was falling- exhausted and relieved after an 18 hour day.

Now we were down and safe- which mattered more than anything.

We had our dance with the Matterhorn- and I’ll remember that to the very end of my days.

 

Paul Kendrick

 

Postscript

“The glorious victory was marred when, during the descent, four of the seven climbers in the summit party fell to their deaths. The remaining three, including Whymper, likely would have fallen as well if the rope linking the men had not broken.”

 

I read this only recently in an on-line account of the 150^th anniversary of the first ascent of the Matterhorn. Before that and certainly before our 1995 ascent, I had never heard or read anything that even hinted that the rope breaking actually saved the other three men.