The Matterhorn

What happens when you mix one of the most deadly mountains in the Alps with an unexpected thunderstorm, a handful of hikers, some hubris, and a heck of a lot of determination and guts? Answer: the most epic mountain experience of my life.

THE PREPARATION

The story begins earlier in the week, as I, along with several other WHO interns, used every free moment in the office to research the best place to hike in the Alps. The way I saw it, we had one weekend to pack in the highest and most scenic hike possible given our skill level. For me, it was a no-brainer: if you have to choose one mountain to climb, one beast of rock and ice to conquer, one slope from which to view all the others, it's got to be the Matterhorn. Located nearest to the village of Zermatt, the Matterhorn is the most famous peak in the Alps. It's steep, horn-like peak, which pierces the clouds at an altitude of 14,690 feet, make it as haunting as it is beautiful. The Matterhorn also has one of the highest fatality rates, due to the frequency of avalanches, rockfalls, and accidents among inexperienced climbers. More than 500 people have lost their lives trying to climb it since it was first summited in 1865, and 12 people die on it each year to this day.

Threads of emails and information passed among our inboxes that week, with more than half a dozen people interested in joining our upcoming weekend adventure. Our hike would be no vacation, though. Our final destination was none other than the Hornlihutte, a tiny mountaineering lodge owned by the Swiss Alpine Club and the highest hut (10,600 feet) on the slopes of the Matterhorn. To get from Zermatt to the Hornlihutte, one website had estimated a total of ten hours of hiking and suggested that, with overnight stays in other huts along the way, hikers make the ascent over the course of three days. We planned on doing it in one.

Not surprisingly, the number of people interested in hiking for ten hours straight diminished quickly. After all, few interns had adequate hiking boots or extensive experience doing high-altitude hiking. Doubts about whether we could really make it nearly undermined the entire trek, and by midweek, our group had boiled down to four: myself, Amy, Jason, and Amitahb. Fortunately, after calling the Hornlihutte to make reservations, I was informed that the most direct route up to the hut would take little more than four hours. Nice! This was totally doable.

We were up until midnight on Thursday trying to finalize plans via email and it wasn't until lunchtime the next day that we had solidified our itinerary. Since we were already fully stocked with food for the weekend (read: peanut butter, jelly, bread, and muesli) and fully equipped (side note: Dave Imbrock let me borrow his boots for the trip, which in hindsight were a heck of a lot better than my running shoes), the four of us would leave work early and make it to the Matterhorn Hostel in Zermatt just in time to check-in for the night. Four hours later, we were on a train destined for Zermatt, winding precariously around steep ravines and hurling through tunnels burrowed into the mountainsides. Foothills carved by glacial waterfalls towered above us on either side. After a scenic three hour journey into the Alps, we at last arrived at the village.

THE ARRIVAL (Friday)

Zermatt is what every U.S. ski resort wishes it could be. The town is situated as deep into the Alps as the railway goes, tucked into a narrow valley and strattling a fast-flowing river of white glacial meltwater. It is entirely walkable (in fact, cars are not permitted), and it features countless quaint restaurants and quintessential Swiss chalets. It turned out to be an ideal weekend for the four of us to visit Zermatt. For one, when we arrived at the hostel to check-in, we immediately met another American student named Lizzy who was in Zermatt for the weekend as part of a summer studying climate change in Switzerland. Since she was alone, and since I had intentionally booked an extra reservation up at the Hornlihutte for a last-minute intern, we invited her to join us for the rest of our weekend adventure. So our fearless four soon became five.

Walking through Zermatt on the way to the hostel.

The second reason why this was an ideal time for our visit was because it was the weekend of the infamous Zermatt Marathon. This marathon is one of the most epic ones on the planet, taking you 26.2 miles through the Alps and rising 1,900m in elevation from start to finish. Ironically, I was wearing my Boston Marathon jacket when we arrived on Friday evening, though Heartbreak Hill can hardly be compared to the steep incline of this mountain marathon. As it was the night before the race, there happened to be a huge pasta party in the middle of Zermatt, which we decided to attend for dinner. After all, we had to do some carbo-loading ourselves, and there's nothing like a cold beer, a bowl of steaming pasta, and some festive Swiss yodaling the night before a big hike. I should also briefly mention that the bartender at our hostel had previously run the Zermatt Marathon. Why is this imporant? Well, we asked him that evening to clarify the most direct route up to the Hornlihutte, and noticing that all five of us looked decently fit, he suggested that we follow a slightly longer and more scenic route that he used to run while he was training. He told us it would take about seven hours (as opposed to four) and would go up around the surrounding ridge and descend back into a valley at the base of the Matterhorn before shooting back up towards the hut. We were feeling ambitious at the time, and since we were originally going to do a 10 hour hike in the first place, we decided to take his advice and go for it.

Our revised route (navy) would allegedly take seven hours.

View of the Matterhorn from Zermatt.

Sleeping giant: the Matterhorn at dusk.

A close-up of the beast from the village.

THE ASCENT (Saturday)

8:00am -- We woke up bright and early to start our ascent up the ridge. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and cool, and there was not a cloud in the sky. After about an hour of steep hiking, we got to a remote hotel with a beautiful view overlooking the village. We met the lady who owned the place and told her where we were headed in order to confirm that we were in the right direction. Her response was not what we expected: "Hornlihutte? You can't make it there. Not in those shoes [we were all wearing minimalist boots or sneakers]. It's all ice up there." Awesome. This was the last thing we wanted to hear. Nevertheless, two things made us doubt the validity of her opinion. First, she proceeded to sell us a bottle of water for 10 bucks, and second, she tried to sell us a private guided trip up to the hut. Both sent the message that she was more familiar with profiteering than mountaineering. Yeah, right, thanks, I think we'll manage by ourselves. We trekked onward to the next hut to get a second opinion.

The Matterhorn piercing the morning sky.

The fearless five preparing for the ascent.

Amitahb, Amy, and Lizzy beginning the ascent.
They're smiling now, but just wait...

Bird's/hiker's-eye-view of the village.

After hearing the lady's opinion, we feigned disappointment,
took our last photo, and proceeded to disregard her advice.

11:00am -- We arrived at Trift, the second hut en route to the Matterhorn. The owner was kind enough to call the Hornlihutte to inquire about the conditions up there. He assured us that it was mostly free of ice, that our footwear was sufficient, and that we'd be there in about five hours. Sweet! Lesson learned: always get a second opinion. We continued our hike up the ridge, past glaciers, waterfalls, and mountain sheep, all the while snapping photos of the breathtaking snow-capped peaks around us.

The beginning of the ridge, looking up from Trift.

Still a long way to go (actual time = 1.5 x Swiss estimate).

Lizzy, Amy, Amitahb, and myself overlooking Zermatt.

Amitahb, myself, Lizzy, and Amy.

Gazing out from the top of the ridge.

The Alps surrounding the ridge. What a view!


Mountain sheep grazing atop the ridge. What a life!


After a turn in the trail, the Matterhorn was back in sight.

2:00pm -- We were four hours into our allegedly "seven hour hike." Now going downhill from the ridge, we would still have to ascend the same vertical distance (and more) to get to our final destination.

2:30pm -- We reached the bottom of the valley more than six hours after we'd departed Zermatt. The sun was blazing, and our shirts had acquired distinct stripes of sweat beneath our backpack straps. Exhausted, we decided to take a quick break for lunch. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning. The rest was all uphill from here, literally.

Glacial meltwater cascading into the valley with the
Matterhorn in the distance. Can you see the Hornlihutte?
Maybe if we zoom in, say, 6x...

Now can you see it? Yeah, still pretty far away...

Rest over. It's game time.

4:00pm -- After another hour and a half of hiking in the afternoon heat, we arrived at Schwartzee Paradise, a hotel and cablecar station on the slopes of the Matterhorn. We rested a bit and filled our empty bottles up with water from a sink with a sign warning, "Not drinking water." By this point, the chance that we would contract giardia were about as slim as the chance that the remaining hike up to Hornlihutte would be easy.

Amitahb, Amy, Lizzy, Jason, and myself at

Schwartzee Paradise, elevation 8,400 feet.

4:30pm -- Ominous gray storm clouds had been forming all around the mountain. Thunder was audible in the distance, and the snow-covered peaks that were once so breathtakingly visible were now masked by the approaching storm. The Hornlihutte was still tiny in the distance and to reach it would still require another two hours of intense hiking up steep, rocky terrain and dangerously exposed precipices, with an average incline of 23 percent. We began to feel intermittent drops of rain, but it appeared that the storm was retreating, so we decided to keep going.

The steep, rocky ridge up to the Hornlihutte, which was barely visible as the storm clouds rolled in.

4:45pm -- The storm was not retreating. In fact, it had come straight for us. Every few minutes, the Hornlihutte would hide itself in the thick gray clouds that engulfed the mountain. The winds were starting to pick up, the intermittent drops had become steady rainfall, and the temperature was dropping with our increasing altitude. It was at this point that we had to make a critical decision. Either we turned back for Schwartzee, or we kept going. To turn back would mean safe shelter sooner, but it would also be the end of any chance of reaching Hornlihutte. To keep going would mean almost two more hours of scrambling on already weary legs up a ridge that was steeper than we'd ever encountered at a pace that was faster than we'd ever gone. With the storm nearly right above us, it would also be incredibly dangerous -- some might even say stupid. This was the moment of truth: to turn back, or to continue. Fears and emotions were heightening as our group stood paralyzed on the rocky ridge, torn three against two. Jason and I urged the others that we had to commit and keep going. We'd already come this far and we were not going to split up. All we needed to do was grit our teeth, maintain our focus, and keep putting one foot in front of the other. The only thing separating us from the Hornlihutte was determination and guts.

Storm clouds and shear cliff in all directions.

Note: photos of the final ascent stop here, as inclement conditions made it too dangerous to carry my camera while hiking.

5:30pm -- The wind was ferocious and the icy rain stung more than ever as we scrambled up the ridge. The storm had gotten worse, taunting us with occasional laughs of thunder. Our clothes were drenched and our hands were red and numb. A narrow foot-wide pathway and an occasional fixed rope covered in ice was all that separated us from the shear cliffs beside us, and slippery rocks and snow patches made every step critical. None of us was talking, with the exception of my occasional coxwain-like calls: "We're going to make it guys. We're going to do this." I had a peculiar sense of peace about the whole thing. Perhaps it was because rowing in the middle of March on the Charles River is not much different. Regardless, I was loving every minute of it. This was epic. This was what I lived for! Had I not been clutching the rope with my left hand and shielding my face from the wind with my right, I would have shaken my fists at the storm triumphantly and laughed, "Is this the best you can do?"

6:00pm -- Sure enough, the rain and winds began to subside, and the clouds moved away to unveil not only the sun but also the Hornlihutte. We were so close. Completely soaked and exhausted, we kept hiking, fueled by nothing else but adrenaline, pride, and determination.

The calm after the storm. Still alive, still smiling.

6:30pm -- We made it! After hiking for more than ten hours up to a final elevation of 10,600 feet, and after climbing the last two hours up 2,200 vertical feet against nature's worst elements, we finally arrived at the Hornlihutte. And we were right in time for 7:00pm dinner! Still wet and frozen, we checked in, changed clothes, thawed by the wood stove, and joined the other mountaineers for supper. I don't think soup, pork, green beans, and buttery grit have ever tasted so good.

Some of us were still in shock.


Photos of all the Matterhorn casualties lined the hut walls.

Jason, Lizzy, Amy, and Amitahb thawing by the wood stove.

All of us enjoying a hot dinner at the Hornlihutte.

THE DESCENT (Sunday)

We went to bed early that night and woke up on Sunday morning just in time to catch one of the most spectacular views I have ever seen in my life. At such a high elevation, the hut afforded an absolutely amazing 360-degree panoramic view of the surrounding Alps and, best of all, got us right up close to the beast that is the Matterhorn. Like the fumes from a monster's nostrils, the morning banner cloud was just beginning to form on the horn as we captured our final photos and enjoyed a delicious breakfast inside the Hornlihutte.

The dining room inside the Hornlihutte.

The Matterhorn at daybreak, before the clouds formed.

Our 10,600-foot pose in front of the peak. Easy there, Jason. You'll need some real gear if you want to climb the summit...

Myself and the Matterhorn.

Attempt at an epic pose above the Hornlihutte.

My favorite picture of all: a ten-photo 360-degree

Matterhorn panorama that I took from above the Hornlihutte.

The five of us outside the Hornlihutte after breakfast.

Overlooking the valley before our descent.

I wasn't joking when I said it was steep...

Retracing our steps down the ridge to Schwartzee Paradise.

One more shot of the Hornlihutte from the base of the ridge.

The long descent to Schwartzee, reaffirming (at least for me) the previous day's decision not to turn back.

Looking back wistfully, we couldn't believe how far we'd hiked.

While the hike up the Matterhorn was the most exhilarating and eventful part of our trip, the trek back down was almost comical. We retraced our steps back to Schwartzee Paradise, at which point Jason decided to split off and enjoy a leisurely hike down the mountain in solitude. Amitahb decided to split off and go at a brisk pace to catch an earlier train (the trains departed Zermatt on the hour). However, after realizing that he had borrowed Lizzy's shoes for the hike, he had to stop and wait on the side of the trail, where the remaining three of us soon joined him. The four of us then found Jason sitting beside the path further down, at which point our complete group chose to continue the hike back down together. After a couple hours, however, our paces began to diverge, and Amitahb and I decided to speed up to catch an earlier train. We had to jog the last 45 minutes with our backpacks, buckling knees, and blistered feet, but made the train just in time. What we did not discover until an hour later was that Amy had also been on that train. In turns out that after we'd split away, she'd taken one of the cablecars back down to Zermatt, where she managed to hop on the same train as us. Jason continued his leisurely hike in solitude, and Lizzy left to continue her summer adventure in Switzerland. And all of us, whatever train we ended up on, now had an incredibly epic story to tell. Was it all worth it? Absolutely.