A Traverse Of The Lenzspitze
by F. Wilkinson
We were a party of six, sitting on the veranda of the Hotel Glacier in Saas Fee having our last meal before leaving for the Mischabel Hut. We had already had a good week in the mountains east of Saas and had made a first ascent of the season from our first hut; also we had five 4,000 metre peaks behind us. Looking up we could see our next objectives and our ambition; first the Lenzspitze and Nadelhorn and then the Dom-Tasch traverse.
Heavily loaded with food for four days, we checked at the Post Office for last minute letters from home, posted our cards and followed the narrow path between the chalets on to the hill. The path was steep, high above us we could see the snow line where we knew the hut to be. These treks to the huts showed us how fit we had become; going up to our first hut we had stopped to rest frequently and thrown down our heavy packs at the slightest excuse. Now, although the packs were still there, they were part of us and we were accustomed to a steady plod which we could keep up for hours. This particular day it was hotter than ever and the sun was strong on our backs until late afternoon. After climbing for two hours we were surprised to see behind us a horse and rider who, when they came closer turned out to be a guide and his lady client who were taking turns to ride the horse, leaving the owner of the animal to run behind. We felt sorry for the horse on that steep and narrow path but at the same time any one of us would have changed places with the rider.
It took us five hours to reach the hut and our relief on getting there was soon damped when we found it almost full and the warden a very disagreeable old man. At supper plans for the next day were discussed; nearly everybody was going down to Saas, but the guide and his client were preparing to traverse the Lenzspitze/Nadelhorn ridge and return to the hut. This was to be our route as far as the Nadelhorn, but then we were hoping to descend on the far side and reach the Dom Hut. Before going to our bunks the photographers rushed outside to catch the sunset. Dark red clouds were billowing over the valley, but we could only see how picturesque they were. We now know that they were an ill omen.
The morning was clear and cold. There was the usual blundering about in the dark, stamping around in the hut clogs preparing breakfast, packing the rucksacks and fastening boots and snow gaiters with numb fingers. We were away by 4 a.m. The sun would be another hour before it began to tint the snows of the Dom and drive away the bitter chill. The Mischabel Hut is built on the toe of the ridge running down from the Lenzspitze so there would be no trouble with route finding, there above us, surely only a few hours away, was the peak standing out against the starry sky.
Going was easy at first, but our limbs were reluctant and the packs nearly as heavy as the day before. Soon the ridge began to narrow and we left the snow behind to take to the rock; holds were plentiful if loose and up ahead we could see the guide almost an hour in front. The climbing was continuous, not difficult, but exposure was increasing minute by minute. Soon we joined a ridge coming from our left and then we could see the Dom. Pinnacle followed pinnacle, with now a narrow snow ridge and then another gendarme. Four hours non-stop and the summit looked no nearer; we were now travelling as three separate ropes, all moving together except on the many difficult stretches where we had to belay. Nowhere was the ridge a yard wide, to our right the snow plunged down to the Hohbalen Glacier and on our left we could see the stones avalanching down from the Dom as the sun released them. Our packs were forgotten, no longer could we think of being tired, there was only the rock and the rope. We did not trouble to look back towards Saas Fee. If we had we would have seen the clouds blowing up the ridge obscuring the Fletschhorn and Weissmies across the valley; even so we would not have been perturbed.
After a vertical wall of 250 feet and a steep snow climb now going soft we reached the summit just after noon. Time was running out but we were unaware of it. This mountain was not like the others, its difficulties were continuous. We should have realised the importance of moving as fast as possible in the Alps, perhaps taking risks which one would not take at home; we were probably at fault in not having practised moving together over difficult ridges when roped.
We signed the summit book and started off for the Nadelhorn. Cloud was touching the ridge and the Saas valley had disappeared. The snow was soft and this part of the ridge was nearly all snow and very narrow. At 3 p.m. we reached the Nadeljoch and it began to snow. A hasty council of war, and a descent on to the glacier was chosen; this was perhaps the worst choice. We now know that we could have continued over the Nadelhorn and from there returned to the Mischabel Hut or taken the easy slopes towards the Dom Hut. Either of these routes would have been quicker but we had read that the Nadeljoch was possible and the desire to descend out of the snow was too strong. We should in fact have taken the ridge from the Lenzspitze towards the Dom and found the easy way down to the Dom glacier, but who gives up in fairly good weather, at noon?
The Nadeljoch is very steep and is composed of loose rock. That afternoon it was covered with soft new snow and we were soon forced to fit our crampons; within the first fifty feet we knew that we would have to abseil. Fortunately we had plenty of slings and metal rings or karabiners. There were six of us, we had three full length ropes and there were about 1,000 feet to rope down. Time was short, light was failing fast and it was still snowing. We soon developed a technique in which one rope was anchored around a rock and used singly whilst the other two ropes were used for a normal abseil. The last man down released the single rope before descending the double rope. By eight-thirty in the evening we reached the glacier and could think again. It was almost dark and we had been on the mountain sixteen hours but we had faith in finding the hut now, surely not far away.
Roped in threes we moved off on to the glacier. The going was good and the snow hard beneath the thin new layer. We were descending rapidly but our tired bodies found it comforting and did not warn us of danger. When trouble came we were lucky; the slope suddenly became very steep and icy and the leader lost his footing. The others on the rope could not dig into the hard snow and were pulled off their feet, but by now the leader was in control of the situation and the rope came to rest uncomfortably near a wide crevasse.
On again into the wilderness of white. We thought we could see a horizon but it moved about surprisingly, in fact there was nothing to see but white; however, before long the rock ridge we were aiming for loomed up. Torches were pulled out and the ascent of a narrow snow corridor began. In the dark it was comforting to come upon a wooden cross obviously marking the route, but the black void into which we must descend was depressing. We were soaked through and cold, our hope of reaching the hut was dwindling and it was midnight. Should we go on or not?
The rope was thrown over into the void and a volunteer on a lifeline began to descend. Abseiling was no worse than before and in three rope lengths we reached the Dom glacier. Spirits began to rise and there down the glacier were three lights; we were not to know that they were on the other side of the Zermatt valley. There was almost a foot of new snow on the Dom glacier and it was soft. We saw later how many crevasses there were but that night we saw very few, it was almost as if we were being guided along the best route.
On and on we went, but we began to doubt whether we would find the hut in the dark; it was now 2 a.m. Eventually we reached a large icefield and no obvious way through the crevasses, we had no choice, we would have to wait for daylight, now only two hours away. Climbing up the broken rock above the glacier we found a rock corner and huddled together to keep as warm as possible. Food was hauled out of rucksacks but we were too cold and dispirited to eat much. Some were able to sleep but others found the cold unbearable and were obliged to get up and walk about before dawn to revive the circulation in cold limbs.
When dawn came we staggered down the glacier and there was the hut, almost in sight of our bivouac and not more than a mile away.
With a view of the Matterhorn looking more like winter than summer we crawled into the hut to end 24 hours out on the mountains. All over the Alps others had been caught in a similar predicament, not all came out of it as well as we did. So must the mountaineer pit his strength and judgment against the elements; he may not always win.