Day 5 - Saturday April 8th. Vignettes Hut > ZermattThese elevation graphs give as good an idea as any as to how the day seems like an endless trudge uphill. Spot how the downhill bits in the lower time-based graph are tiny as compared to the corresponding downhill bits in the upper distance-based graph. Similarly, check out how long we are going uphill for.
Early start. Alarms for 5.15 but we were all up by 5. Intestines have been trained to do their business early morn. Got into breakfast queue ahead of the crush and made the most of it. Good bircher muesli, pancakes + real bacon + scrambled egg (but only two spoonfuls of that, I was physically restrained from taking a third). Cram it all in and get prepped. Bag is packed, just collect ice-axe and boot up. I had left my boot shells outside overnight by mistake but someone was kind enough to bring them in. Phew.
Dark outside. Have to dismount pack to find head torch so I have half a chance to be able to see to clip in to skis (the pin touring bindings are a lot more fiddly than standard downhill bindings). The narrow passageway in the hut is full of people, all trying to do the same as us and keen to be off as quickly as possible which makes it tricky getting out.
I get outside. Tom is still inside (or so I think). I struggle to get sorted and the Satmap takes ages to get a signal. Nick calls me with a tone of impatience in his voice. Everyone is waiting for me. Agh. Up the slope a bit, side stepping. I’m at the back and everyone is conscious that there is a big day ahead and there is not a moment to lose. The second col is a crampon climb and unless you’re ahead of the crowd here you can wait ages. We have a cab booked in Zermatt for 4pm and we want to get there in time for a beer and, ideally, a decent lunch. It’s an awkward pole/push/side step on icy snow to get slightly back up the slope. I get rudely cut off by another guide when it’s bleeding’ obvious that I am the back marker in my group and exclaim. He lets me through and I do two slippy, get-you-nowhere strides and he starts pushing me really hard. “Poussez pas !!” I shout. Pillock, if I had fallen to the right here it would have been a very slow and dispiriting walk/climb back up.
As soon as we are over the rise we head straight off for the bottom of the first of the three climbs of the day. All a bit of a blur this. I recall a good deal of traversing, icy slopes, hard pack snow. Very eerie in the early morning deep gloom. Started with a head torch on but realised pretty quickly that there was enough light to see. Blatted along. Then trudge, trudge, trudge. Uphill slog. Light by the time we started uphill, sun behind the mountains to our left (we’re heading roughly SE). Beautiful clear sky, calm conditions. The world is a beautiful place.
I keep up with the pace without problem. Standard sequence is Nick, Andrew, Colin/Richard, me, Tom. Sometimes I’m ahead of Colin or Richard, but generally only in the earlier part of the day. Nick has moderated his pace pretty much perfectly from the cracking pace that was set on the first couple of days. Setting one's own pace is really tough. Mentally, following right in someone’s trail is easier to keep the pace going, but everyone has different stride lengths and cadences. This typically means that I catch up to the person in front and then have to pause, which breaks the spell. The cadence and stride length I am comfortable with works well until the gradient increases, when I start to struggle. I’ve tried shortening stride length, slowing the pace, and a combination of the two, but I really struggle to keep it slow enough that my output is sustainable. (Time to invest in an HRM perhaps.)
On one of the climbs there are some large globs of blood by the side of the tracks - prob a nose bleed. Yeeuuchh. Up to Col de l’Eveque (3377m) and at the transition Nick suggests that we stash the skins under our jackets instead of in our packs to keep them warm and help them dry out. Over the col for an all too brief ski down. Spring snow, crud, crust, and then, as if by miracle, a decent lump of steep untouched powder. Two perfect glorious turns in the virgin powder and then I blow it and fall as I reach the first bit of chopped up stuff. Dang. All caught on vid apparently. The team move off as I reassemble myself. Can’t afford to hang around. Valley bottom and we transition in readiness for the next slog. We have a drink and a quick snack but as another group approaches Nick chivvies us along to make sure we stay in front. This one ends in a steep walk up to Col de Mont Brulé (3232m) and we elect for crampons and going up independently. I’m just pipped to the start of the climb by another group and they are roped up without crampons. Tom also just misses a cut and gets pipped by another team who are roped together, which means that five of us get a decent and precarious rest at the top on some precipitous rocks overhanging a remote valley which leads down to Aosta. Sublime. (And we're briefly in Italy.)
About 3' behind where Nick is sitting is a largeish sheer drop, perhaps 1500'.
We transition, Tom arrives and we take the opportunity to take on more water and snacks. A short ski down to the glacier to begin the looooooong (and final) slog uphill to the last col (Col de la Valpelline - 3554m). Not steep, just relentless, and the group move at a pace I can maintain. Nick reckons about two hours should see us at the top and we start at 10.35. I promise myself a stop at 40 minutes and one hour 20 minutes. Just as 40 minutes clocks up Nick points out some rocks ahead where we will stop, so I plug on. Slump down at rock and drink half my bottle in one pull and stuff face with any snack offered plus almost all my remaining trail mix.
While we sit in the blazing sunshine a number of groups go past. The tail ender in one group is wearing a zipped up jacket, helmet and multi-coloured mirrored goggles, ready for an Arctic winter. He must have been roasting inside that lot. We were in shirtsleeves. Another solo chap with a large gut struggles past with a towel hanging out of the right side of his hat. Nick threatens to abandon us if we try the same trick. We eat a final round of snacks and I finish my electrolyte drink. There’s still a big haul ahead of us but we are on schedule to be on top by about 12.30. We set off and I hold the train for some distance but finally crack. I seem to be OK on first or second climb of the day, but run out of puff after that. I end up near the top walking 80 paces, taking a breather, then walking another 80, etc etc.
We gather just short of the crest and wait for Tom. Andrew strides onto the crest alone so as to capture our joint cresting and looks of wonderment as the Matterhorn slowly hoves into view. Wow. Just wow. There’s not many reveals in the world as spectacular and as gratifying as this one. Certainly the best I have ever experienced. Journey’s end. Well, not quite. We still have to get down to Zermatt.
Down, down, down. The snow changes character almost by the turn, some beautifully skiable, other sections not so (understatement). There’s a slushy schuss and I get a bit out of line but recover it well. The slush wins out in the end though. Just as I regain the tracks a slush gremlin catches my left ski and sends me off. My fastest wipe out for some time. (Legs are pretty weary by this point.) Oh the indignity. I was last one down and again, everyone is watching as they had gathered on a little crest to wait for me. I’m often at the back on downhills as I stop to take photos to try and capture the wonderfulness of it all.
We’re nearly there. Glory be. We pass, on the other side of the valley, Nick’s first day’s hut stop for the tour he is leading, starting from Zermatt tomorrow morning at 7am. No rest for a guide. Tough life. He has one night at home. Down more and we end up picking our way through trees, in slush, one 100 yard stretch of skis off and walking uphill, more trees, more side-stepping, hot, hot, hot. I pause occasionally in the shade of a tree to cool down. And, of course, after yesterday’s wasted application of sun cream to my arms, I didn’t bother this morning. Big error. I was boiling over but wasn’t willing to bare unprotected flesh to this fierce sun. Finally, about a hundred yards off I spy a snow cannon. Nearly on piste. Relief. A final push through the trees, a bit more side-stepping up, a crazy whizz through some branches and we’re past red netting and pylon protectors and we’re on piste. Slushy run down to Furri and we’re in civilisation. We stop on the gloriously sunny terrace of Restaurant Furri and order beers, shandies, Orangina, water and food. A final croute complet for me.
HUZZAH ! Time to eat, celebrate, self-congratulate, take it all in and have a beer. WE’VE DONE IT !!
The whole route -