December storm, drybrushed with icing sugar. We began the final
ascent. The glacier was short, flat and easy, with no crevasses (or
at least none we could see beneath the snow pack); but the final
pull up the summit pyramid took a lot out of us both, and I could
feel the thin air rasping in my lungs. The weather had started to
clear, and glorious views opened up over the wintry wonderland of
the Swiss Alps in all directions. So much snow! This was worth it.
When we made it to the summit, a pinnacle high above the glacier
we’d crossed and the temperature inversion 1000m beneath it, I
knew that something had changed in us. We weren’t alpinists yet,
but we’d made the first step.
Only when we staggered back to the campsite hours later,
feeling like veterans returning from a war zone, did we read this
line in the guidebook: “If there’s been recent snowfall then the
attempt should be delayed for a few days. Fine, settled weather is
needed, and good visibility is a prerequisite, as is an early start.”TEN YEARS LATER...
It was always my intention to go back to Mettelhorn. I remember
it vividly: the discomfort, the endless snow, the feeling of being
insignificant yet elevated. When I returned to Zermatt in
September 2017, I revisited a few old haunts to see how the places
had changed after a decade – and to see how I’d changed too.
I expected to find the climb itself a pushover. The Mettelhorn
is no Matterhorn – it’s described in the Cicerone guide as a walk,
and in good conditions is not much more challenging than the
Pony Track on Ben Nevis. With another decade of mountaineering
experience under my belt I expected it to be an easy but enjoyable
outing. In 2007, James and I had packed ice axes, crampons, bivvy[previous spread] 2017: The glacier leading to Mettelhorn. Too steep
and icy for Microspikes alone! [right] 2007: Digging the snow cave
[below] 2017: Standing at the col where, ten years before, the ice had
reached right up to the point where I’m standingALPINISM
68 The Great OutdoorsAugust 2019