The Mönch

Tim Bateman

Having not had much sleep the night before, and a long day up on the Jungfrau, Alistair Renton and I were pleased to find the weekend crowds had departed from the Mönch hut since we now had a bed for the night.  The previous night had been spent on the floor, under the tables in the dining area, along with another thirty people of mixed nationalities.

The plan was to get up fairly early the next day, dash up the Mönch and get back down to the Jungfraujoch for 10 a.m. so that we could make use of our cheap train ticket.  This left us adequate time since it was only a short route followed by a plod back down the track to the station.  We woke about 4.30 to hear the wind whistling outside.  This didn’t sound good but we got up regardless and went and had some breakfast.  The only other person up was an English guide from Plas Y Brenin and his two followers.  They too were headed for the Jungfrau.

By 5 a.m. we were off, headed for the foot of the ridge that lay about 500 yards from the hut.  With thick cloud, darkness and no lights to follow we even had trouble finding this but when we did we started on up.  As it gradually got light we caught fleeting glimpses of other mountains through breaks in the clouds.  The wind wasn’t as bad as it had threatened and as we turned onto the summit ridge the cloud cleared completely from the top of the mountain.  Ahead lay a gently sloping snow ridge leading to the top, a well-trodden path worn deep into the snow all the way.  We were lucky enough to be rewarded a clear view to the North whereas to the South a blanket of cloud covered everything except the very tops of the peaks.  So far we still hadn’t come across anyone else and so it continued until we were half way down and we met a few ascending parties.

By the time we reached the bottom of the ridge the cloud was back and the wind blowing.  We made a quick visit to the hut and set off down to catch the train.