Zermatt And Chamonix, 1951
by C. I. W. Fox
I arrived at Zermatt with Donald Bennett of The Junior Mountaineering Club of Scotland early on Sunday, ist July. We established our base camp a little way down-stream from Zermatt, near a wooden bridge. The site is a good one, being situated near a supply of good fresh water, and within easy shopping range of the village. Leaving our surplus gear in the tent we went to the Z’Fluh hotel in the afternoon in great heat, pausing frequently to ” admire the view,” a justifiable excuse, as the Matterhorn filled the sky behind us, soaring an incredible height into the blue.
We got away at 0245 on the following morning, and were soon puffing our way over the Alderhorn and Strahlhorn. These peaks were intended to provide us with a training walk, and they certainly sweated quite a bit of civilisation out of us. Beautiful cloud effects over Italy and the Monte Rosa Range glowing in pure pastel shades before us, were our reward as we made our way along the connecting ridge, which was corniced slightly. We gasped our way onto the Strahlhorn summit at 10 o’clock and after getting a little of our breath back, ran down to the glacier, passing on our way two people toiling up from the Col on ski. There was much new snow, and the afternoon sun made the glacier a purgatory on the way home.
We decided to go up the Rimpfischorn on the following day, getting away at 0240 we were on the top at 0830. We were still far from fit and through getting slightly off the route at the top, found ourselves involved in some rather hair-raising antics on verglazed rocks. However the summit view was very fine, with the Oberland peaks plainly visible many miles away to the North. I found it curious to consider that I was at the ” other end ” of a photograph taken from the Gross Grunhorn last year. [Y.R.C.J., Vol. VII, No. 26, page 291]. We pounded back to the hotel in broiling heat. A glacier pool proved too tempting, and, throwing off our clothes we were presently gasping and splashing in the refreshing water. Donalds ” Shelter Stone ” tendencies were greatly enlivened by the sight of various large boulders in the vicinity; and when, later, we were presented with a somewhat steep bill at a hotel, he swore in future he would sooner bivouac. I could not but agree with him.
Coming down the lovely path through Findelen Alp the peaks on the other side of the valley beckoned to us. After spending a night at the camp, we bought some food and toiled in great heat up the Trift Gorge to the new Trift Hut, situated on the Eseltschuggen rocks below the Zinal Rothorn. The cheery Huttenwart made us welcome and we turned in early, arranging to be called at 0200.
Two parties of two besides ourselves made for the Zinal Rothorn in the morning. Yet another of Americans was making for the Schalihorn and the glacier basin presented a curious sight with lanterns flitting about like will-o-the-wisps. We climbed up to the upper glacier in dense cloud and were soon on the snow ridge. The other two parties decided to turn back in view of the conditions, but Donald and I considered that we could find the route despite the cloud, and that, in any case, the cloud would prevent the sun from loosening the considerable amount of new snow lying on the ledges of the traverse across the south face. So we launched out, and eventually found ourselves in a fearsome couloir disappearing into the mist above and below our feet. We cut our way up and emerged on the Gabel with the weird summit ridge looming ahead. As we did so the mists parted and the red rock flashed in the sun and the silver cornices glistered in the brilliant light. We were on the summit at about 0930, and had made the first ascent of the season. In view of the warm sun, we decided not to linger, but to get back across the face as quickly as possible. The traverse, to our great relief, was still shrouded in mist; we sped across very quickly following our morning tracks, and were soon damning and blasting our way down the soft snow of the glacier to the hut, at times sinking up to our waists. We learned later — too late for us to take advantage of the fact, that is is more usual to follow a band of crags which land one immediately above the hut. Next morning we were away at 0320 en route for the Wellenkuppe, and were rewarded by most striking views of the north face of the Matterhorn. As we made our way up the hollow of the great wave the dawn light streamed ethereally over the clouds in the Zermatt valley below us. Our heads popped dramatically over the rounded summit and the lovely elliptical slopes of the Obergabelhorn burst upon our sight. The connecting ridge was heavily corniced. A guided party was about half an hour ahead of us and we followed their steps in blissful confidence. Suddenly there was a great crack, and about a hundred feet of cornice started to drop down the south face of the ridge. Donald, who was leading at the time, gave a tremendous leap over the other side, and I, who was luckily following a parallel track somewhat lower down belayed with my axe into the firm snow. After this rather shattering experience we kept well clear of the other party’s tracks.
The rocks on the final part of the Obergabelhorn were rather iced, but the summit was incredibly beautiful with three huge cornices curling over the great precipices. We returned over the Wellenkuppe getting back at 1540 to the hut. Our walk down to Zermatt in the cool of the evening was very pleasant, and we found the flowery Alps delightful after the glare of the high snows.
The next few days were definitely ” off,” as the weather was bad. One day we hopefully went up to the Tasch Hut, with intention of doing the Rotgrat of the Alphubel, but the weather turned out to be abominable and we tramped down again in great disgust. The most beautiful path up through the woods in some measure compensated for our frustration.
July 10th showed some signs of being decent, so we wandered up to the Schonbuhl Hut with designs on the Dent Blanche and 0230 next morning saw us wending our way up the glacier moraine in perfect conditions. As directed by the guide-book we made the customary sweep in approaching the south ridge and soon were scrabbling up by the side of the great ice-cliff. A cold breeze made us move quickly when we got on the ridge, and we found the snow in excellent condition. After a second breakfast we put our crampons on and ran briskly around the Grand Gendarme. We were tempted to get too far down, and soon scrambled up to the ridge again. Great streamers of cloud were forming on its windward side and the ridge itself sprang in great pinnacles and snow cornices in front of us. The summit was formed of a very fine cone and at ten we were admiring the grand view. Our ascent was the first of the season.
On our way we saved time by the rather unorthodox method of sliding down avalanche troughs, and arrived very speedily on the glacier once more. We saw no avalanches falling until we were well clear of the glacier. Our route back, in contrast with the morning, was straight across to the moraine. We had studied it from far aloft and it had seemed free of crevasses. Sure enough we had no trouble at all, although our progress across must have presented a model of caution. Which only goes to show that one mustn’t pay too much attention to guide-books!
Next morning we walked down to Zermatt for provisions and plugged up to the Hornli hut in the afternoon. The hut was packed and we spent a most unrestful night before staggering out into the dark at 0230 en route for the Zmutt ridge. Our way lay first in a slightly downward direction for a few minutes, and then up a break in the ice wall of the Matterhorn Glacier. The Glacier was in a shocking condition with soft snow, and we had to take it in turns to break a trail. A convenient snow-bridge took us up across the schrund below the snow-ridge, just below and to the left of a tongue of rock clearly visible from afar. The slope that followed involved further hard work kicking and cutting our way. In the gullies in the slope the snow had turned to ice, and we had to cut many dozens of steps. At 0700 we stood on the snow-ridge and ate some chocolate. The wind was quite strong with clouds boiling up over the Col de Lion. After a short rest we pressed on up the ridge and were presently involved in some entertaining rock-cHmbing on the Zmutt teeth.
The ridge swung up into the heights above and the tremendous Zmutt nose, formed of contorted yellow strata leered at us across the depths of a vast couloir. The rocks that followed were heavily blanketed with new snow, and belays were few. But we had confidence in one another and moved steadily up. As we emerged on the Tiefenmatten face the weather rapidly worsened and presently a full blizzard was blowing. The rocks were heavily iced and we found crampons of real effect in our rock ckmbing. Cracks and slabs forced us to the right and presently we found ourselves close to the Italian ridge. We peeped over and had a most impressive view of savage precipices falling away through breaks in the snow squalls. As I was climbing an icy-chimney my ice-axe, which was hanging by a sling from my wrist, fell a couple of hundred feet down the face. The sling had evidently chafed through on rocks. We held a hurried conference and decided not to waste time by retrieving my axe, but to press on over the summit. I was sorry not to be able to linger over the celebrated Matterhorn view, but the great mountain was howling and shrieking in its fury and snow was driving over in terrific squalls. We ran briskly in a crouched posture along the summit ridge, and plunged down the Hornli ridge. The ridge was smothered in snow and our progress with but one axe between us was necessarily slow. We passed the Solvay hut at 1900 but decided to go on. That abominable ridge! I am convinced that it is telescopic! We saw the hut through breaks in the storm, but the confounded thing appeared to get no nearer. At length we were at the site of the old cabin, and, as it was getting dark, we decided to bivouac. We took off our boots, stuck our feet in the same sack, clasped each other in an attempt to keep warm, and dozed the night through. We had a good supply of food, and spare clothing, we were in good condition and spirit, and we knew to an inch where we were. Surprisingly enough we slept a little. Every hour or so we ate some pemmican and chocolate. At 0530 we battered our boots into shape, donned them, and clattered cheerfully down towards the hut where we ate a very welcome meal. With the inner man in fine fettle we strolled down to Zermatt finding new zest in living things after our encounter with the formidable Cervin.
The following day we decided by way of a rest to have another try at the Rotgrat of the Alphubel but our arrival at the Tasch hut was greeted with a storm and again we made our way cheerlessly down to our camp. The weather had obviously broken, with the wind steadily south, and it was time to shift our base.
We established a base camp in Chamonix, and then went up to Argentière en route for the Refuge d’Argentière. From there our first peak was the Chardonnet — a most delightful climb. The day was made more strenuous by the task of helping a member of another British party from half-way up the Chardonnet with a broken ankle. We thought that the Frenchmen who watched us toiling up to the hut with our unfortunate friend, without lifting a finger to help, made a poor showing. One must suppose that they get somewhat hardened with such a number of their somewhat reckless compatriots about. Anyway our friend’s behaviour in considerable pain was an inspiring exhibition of pluck.
Next day, the Argentière proved a very easy peak, but most enjoyable. We ran quickly up and down in crampons for much of the way. The view of the Verte across the glacier was most impressive. On the following day, the Tour Noir proved easier still, but was an incomparable viewpoint. On the latter peak we only used the rope on the final rocks.
Our food was finished, so we descended to the flesh-pots of Chamonix. On the 22nd July we got a lift to Les Contamines and walked up to the Hotel de la Trelatete with four days food on our backs. This is a fine little place, run rather like an Alpine Club Hut, and can be thoroughly recommended both for cheapness and service.
At 0300 next morning we trudged off for the Aiguille de Beranger, and found it a most dull peak. However, we hoped for better things on the Domes de Miage, and were not disappointed, for the easy Domes gave us magnificent views of the surrounding scenery. The colossal Brouillard face hung like a vast red-brown curtain in front of us, buttressing the snowy dome of Mont Blanc high above.
The weather did not look very inviting for our project of traversing Mont Blanc via the Aiguille de Bionnassey, but we decided to go on as we had a reasonable line of escape down the Miage Glacier. “We got to the Durier Hut at 1145, having difficulty in finding it because of the deep snow. As we were the first party to visit it that season, we had to clear the snow away to get in, and clear up inside. Luckily blankets were plentiful, if somewhat damp, and we were soon cosy. It started to snow heavily during the afternoon and a snowstorm raged all night.
Our project was obviously out of the question next morning as it was still snowing heavily; so we packed up after a leisurely breakfast and at 0800 went down the steep slopes to the Miage Glacier. It was raining on the Miage Alp, but we brewed up under a great boulder, watched curiously by a little herd boy in a great Poncho and his charges.
So ended our cHmbing holiday. We had climbed a number of goodly peaks, we had seen the power of the great mountains, we had been turned back — and there were so many more still to climb!