Matterhorn & Mont Blanc

Monte Cervino

The Matterhorn is a perfect pyramid with a quadrangular base which lies in the Pennine Alps (Figure 1). It is characterised  by four ridges (Hornli, Furggen, Zmutt and Leone), the most natural climbing lines to get to the summit, and four faces. Although taller peaks like Everest and K2 may overshadow it in terms of height, the Matterhorn’s seemingly eternal pop-culture presence makes it easily recognizable to people across the globe. Its almost perfectly symmetrical pyramid shape is the main branding element on Toblerone chocolate! Everyone knows the “peak in the meadows”.

Inspired by the books I read about alpine climbing and the early Victorian expeditions in the Alps, including Edward Whymper’s first successful ascent in 1865, my fascination with the mountain was at an all-time high when colleagues at the local climbing club offered the opportunity of a trip to the Italian side of the mountain. I knew how challenging this peak is for mature, experienced climbers. I was only 17 years old when this opportunity came about and the chances for me to join the team were close to zero. However, due to a mix of good fortune and my strong perseverance, having shown the club members how rapidly I evolved as a rock climber, I was eventually invited to join the excursion.

The team we put together for the ascent looked promising: Alin Stana, Florin Stana, Sorin Rechitan and me - all from Arad, and Iulius Carebia from Caransebes (Figure 2). All these individuals are travel photographers, climbers and outdoor enthusiasts, and above all, friends. We decided to try to climb the Cresta del Leone (Liongrat) or Southwest Ridge (difficulty: Alpine AD+) because it was less crowded than the Swiss Hornli (Northeast) Ridge and thus potentially safer from rock falls. However, it is more difficult than the Northeast ridge. Even if aided by fixed gear (ropes, chains and stairways) this ascent should not be taken lightly. It combines length, altitude, frequent presence of ice and snow, and meteorological adversities, particularly sudden and strong blizzards even in summer - for which Cervino is notorious.

On August 17, 2008, we finally left for Breuil-Cervinia in Italy – the base of the Matterhorn or Monte Cervino as the Italians call it. In the car, we were 5 people plus our luggage. Luckily, Florin's car was spacious, and we had enough room to wiggle our feet and bear with the 20-hour road journey ahead. We arrived in Cervinia Valtournenche (2006m) early in the morning the following day. Although we didn’t sleep much the previous night, we decided to push for Carrel hut (3835m) the same day. After all, the weather forecast over the next two days looked decent, so why waste precious time?!

We bought food and gas supplies for 3 days from a nearby supermarket and organised our equipment in an open parking lot. Some residents that passed by, smiled and wished us good luck! We started our ascent around noon - very late indeed. Overall, the scramble to Carrel was steep and long, gaining almost 2000m elevation in a couple of hours. First, we walked a path to Capanna Degli Alpini and then to the private Rifugio Oriondé - Duca Degli Abruzzi (2802m) (2.5 hours). From here we climbed a series of ledges and steps to Carrel Cross (2920m), then onto rocks, headed towards the bottom of a gully which we climbed easily using fixed ropes. We later reached a scree terrace, and then a steep snow-field lying below the characteristic prominence on the southwest boundary ridge named Testa del Leone (or Lion’s Head). We then skirted the Testa del Leone, towards the east, traversing on scree slopes and alternating with snowy slopes and a system of ledges which led to a saddle named Colle del Leone (Lion’s Col) situated at 3581m. Here I started to feel the effects of high altitude such as a headache and shortness of breath. From Lion’s Col, we could see across the other side of the mountain and into Switzerland: huge crevasses, spectacular peaks such as the Weisshorn - the landscape was at a completely different scale compared to the Carpathians back home. Inspired by the beauty of our vantage point, our spirits remained high and so we continued the ascent, wary that the night was upon us and we still had to cover several hundred metres of technical terrain.

The remainder of the route followed roughly the ridge with the most technical sections aided by fixed ropes and chains. Some steps and a small corner led to the bottom of a steep wall. Next, an easier ice-gully and a snow slope finally led to Rifugio Carrel 3830m. Carrel is quite the definition of an eagle’s nest! Lying on a terrace along the ridge, below a steep tower named Grande Tour – it’s supported by iron pylons and feels somewhat floating in the air. It’s a wonderful refuge benefitting from all necessities such as solar-powered electricity and water. The hut is equipped with 50 plank beds, mattresses and wool blankets to cover ourselves. In the dining room, there were even stoves and pots to make soups and teas. Considering the radical location of this hut, it’s quite a luxury to have access to all of this. Unfortunately, Sorin was not feeling well because of the high altitude. He experienced nausea and quite a severe headache. I assume we climbed too quickly and too high. A rookie mistake one may say. It was obvious that the summit dash the next day was not an option for him.

Day 2. First attempt

At 6 am, Alin, Florin, Iulius and myself began the ascent of the wall on the south side of Grande Tour with a small overhang, aided by the fixed ropes (a great way to start the day by the way. Not!) and then followed a rocky step and small ledges, skirting Grande Tour on the south side. We then went rightward up to a narrow notch, leading into a rocky basin named Vallon des Glacons, which was ice-covered. We couldn't see any protection, which in turn slowed down our progress. Eventually, we reached a chimney, which we climbed using fixed ropes, followed by a series of slabs and ledges that were completely covered by fresh snow. We moved slowly but eventually gained the Grande Tour summit ridge, which shows several small pinnacles, named Crête du Coq (Cockscomb). We then downclimbed towards the base of the Linceul, a steep snowy slope which we skirted to the right, and then climbed up towards the summit ridge heading to the base of a 30 metres high corner, the Grande Corde or Corde Tyndall. This was a strenuous climb followed by a series of smooth sloping and icy slabs on the ridge - one of the most dangerous portions of the whole route. We later crossed the Cravate, a wide horizontal ledge on the Italian side and then a dizzy ridge, gaining the summit of the great shoulder named Pic Tyndall 4241m (a name given in honour of the British mountaineer John Tyndall, who first climbed this peak in 1862, during his attempt to the main summit). The Pic was entirely covered by snow. To make matters worse, a blanket of clouds set in and covered the entire area. At this point, Florin and Iulius decided to return, whereas Alin and I tried to push forward a couple more rope lengths. Thanks to a couple of breaks in the clouds we could see the upper part of the route, such as the imposing Testa del Cervino and the impressive Scala Jordan (Jordan Stairway).

We hoped that the clouds were a passing event, as they were moving quite fast due to the strong wind. We stood still for half an hour, waiting for a sign that the weather would improve, however, quite the opposite happened: the cloud cover became thicker, and it even started snowing. We considered bivouacking there that night, but our instinct suggested to return to the hut. Probably a wise hunch! We decided to abseil down to Carrel. The descent was slow due to fatigue and the precarious weather. The wind was strong, and the sun was going down quickly, leaving us exposed in the dark. Rappelling seemed like an endless pursuit. As soon as it got properly dark the wind intensified even more, unleashing a full-blown blizzard. I'm glad we didn’t stay up there. At some point in the evening, we could see some lights below us. It was the hut! After a couple of more abseils, we finally got there: tired, dehydrated and hungry. Reunited with our friends, we had a hearty dinner and went straight to sleep.

Day three. Rest day.

The weather seemed fine today which made us realise that the forecast we received in Cervinia was partly inaccurate. We kept talking about yesterday, analysing what went wrong. Although we didn't manage to reach the top, it was a good acclimatisation experience. In the meantime, a lot of new people arrived at the hut, including two Italian mountain guides, who shared some good news about the upcoming weather forecast. Unfortunately, Sorin was still not feeling well and he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Without much debate, Sorin, Florin and Iulius decided to go down the next day. Alin and I remained, and we prepared ourselves both mentally and physically (by way of resting) to leave at 4 am sharp for a one last summit attempt.

Day four. Summit day.

We writhed all night; we couldn't sleep well. Our brains were too active! Perhaps we were nervous about the upcoming ascent. At one point in the middle of the night, I went outside to see what the weather was like. I remember seeing the moon and a shooting star, which calmed me down and somehow provided some kind of assurance that all will work out up there in the morning.

At 4 am we were equipped and ready to go. By 11 am we reached Pic Tindall. Next, came a very long and exposed ridge (named Cresta Tyndall) comprising snowy sections and two rocky towers. The worst part was the unstable mushroom-type, snow cornices. Some even formed ledges, and we didn't know whether they would hold our weight or not. With care, we traversed them without major issues. Next, followed a short rappel to reach the Enjambée, a narrow notch between Pic Tyndall and Testa del Leone. From the notch we traversed to the opposite wall, climbing a snow-gully and following a ridge that got us to a wide ledge below a steep wall. Mixed terrain and some rocky steps lead to a narrow terrace named Col Félicité - a tribute to Félicité Carrel, the first woman to get to this point in 1867. From here the final push on Testa del Cervino, the summit peak followed.

We climbed to the left of the ridge, reaching a narrow ledge, from which a succession of fixed ropes followed. After the ropes, we traversed slanting right on easier ground, then up again to a fixed rope along with a wide slab, gaining the bottom of the famous Scala Jordan. We went up the overhanging stairway, then continued along the fixed ropes: at first the Corda Pirovano along with a smooth slab, then another one which allowed traversing left onto a sloping slab, the Gite Wentworth. We returned onto the ridge and followed the fixed ropes on the left, then again came back on the right side on a narrow ledge, Pass Thioly. Finally, we climbed some ending snow-covered rocks and gained the Italian summit 4476m roughly 9 hours from leaving Rifugio Carrel. The Swiss summit 4478m lies on the exposed ridge beyond the Italian summit.

Standing on top of the Matterhorn was strange. Maybe because, from our vantage point, we could see a helicopter hovering above us for a long time as if it was waiting for us to hail it and ask the pilots to take us down. But we decided to ignore it and focus our attention on celebrating our great accomplishment. We were standing on the top of the Matterhorn and for the first time at such an altitude. A dream became a reality. The view from the top was breathtaking: you could see to Zermatt, the Swiss side of the mountain, and even Mont Blanc in France. We couldn't spend too much time there as it was late, and we had a long descent back to Carrel.

(Unfortunately, when I returned home, I found out that the helicopter was looking for a young Romanian climber from Bacau who fell and died on Hornli ridge (Swiss side) due to a large boulder that dislocated).

The return to the hut was event-free although long and tiring. The first thing we did when we got to the shelter was to sit down on the porch. I had no desire to do anything else. I only wanted an apple that was on the table inside, but I didn't know whose it was. I was ashamed to take it. There were two Spaniards in the hut, and I asked them if I could eat it. They said yes and so I divided it fraternally with Alin and experienced probably the best apple in my life. Now we could properly congratulate each other. We got back safely!

Day 5

At 9 o'clock we were already on our feet. A small headache bothered us, but we knew that it was due to dehydration. We talked to some Czechs and one of them told us that 3 teams had not returned from the summit yet. I was worried that something might have happened. The wind must have been very strong on the ridge that night and it's not a pleasant place to sleep anyway. After a while, two of the teams appeared. At 11 am the third team also arrived. We began descending the mountain together with the Czechs: using all four half ropes to abseil faster. At one point, I saw a large, flat rock falling down the mountain and landing onto one of our ropes, cutting it in half. A tragedy you may think! Indeed, on a mountain, this could be devastating but fortunately for us, we were not alone. Plus, we had two, not one rope. It’s always smart to bring at least two half ropes on a difficult ascent. We reached Cervinia after an intense cloudburst - the moment when I truly realised that I had ‘bagged’ the Matterhorn safely. We stopped at a restaurant where we enjoyed some delicious Italian pizza. We both felt good despite the clouds that swarmed the area. We did it!

Mont Blanc

From Cervinia, we changed three buses to Chamonix – the famous resort in the French Alps at the foot of Mont Blanc. In Chamonix, we parked in the main campsite and finally had a proper shower. There was a somewhat eerie atmosphere though in town that day. Lots of helicopters were flying around and it was only when we went to the Maison de la Montagne that we found out that eight climbers who had been missing after in an avalanche on Mont Blanc du Tacul (one of the peaks in the Mont Blanc range), had died. It seems like a block of ice as wide as two football fields cracked off a side of the Tacul, at an altitude of 3600 metres and fell on the climbers. Four Germans, three Swiss and an Austrian probably had fallen into a deep crevasse. We were supposed to follow the same route the next day! The Traverse of Mont Blanc as it is called crosses Mont Blanc du Tacul and Mont Maudit before reaching Mont Blanc and is considered to be the more scenic of the two "normal routes". However, it is also the more physically and technically demanding and shows a high degree of objective danger due to numerous hanging seracs that could detach and fall on you at any time.

I remember having a serious discussion with Alin about whether we should go or not and we concluded that it was unlikely for a second avalanche to fall in the same area. So, the next day we took the cable car to Aguille du Midi, from where we descended to Col du Cosmique, where we camped for the night.

The following day, we decided to have a day off to explore the surrounding area and assess the situation. You can call it a dynamic risk assessment mission. Quite near our tent, we saw some flags, which increased in number as we approached the steep north face of Mont Blanc du Tacul. Lots of large icy boulders led to the fresh avalanche cone from yesterday. We realised that the flags were in fact an attempt to find the bodies buried in the snow and ice. A shivering sensation crossed my body and I felt like leaving that place immediately.

Later that afternoon we enjoyed a nice sunset, which eased our anxiety. The next morning, we left the camp at 3 am for a decisive summit push. The climbing was on heavily glaciated snow and ice slopes with several long sections at a continuous angle of 30-35 degrees, and sections of steeper traversing on the ice up to 40 degrees. We climbed up sections of the notorious avalanche cone, but because of the darkness, we couldn't see anything macabre!

We reached the top of the Tacul Face - a place called Epaule, in good time despite the continuous zig-zagging between seracs. From there we walked south until Col Maudit (4035m) and then towards the North Face of Mont Maudit. The latter was very steep but less dangerous than the previous one. However, the face ends with a 45-55° degrees ice climb to reach the Col du Mont Maudit (4345m). From there we walked south once again to reach Col de la Brenva (4303m) and from here once again to the right to climb up the steep wall of the Mur de la Côte. It was here that I saw something strange happening while climbing behind Alin: a fairly large object fell from his harness and rolled down the face rapidly, eventually stopping several hundred metres somewhere on the col. At the same time, I heard Alin screaming: Noo, that’s my camera! It’s gone! Terrible! And of course, with the camera, all of our photos from the previous ascent on Matterhorn and any proof that we had been there was gone in an instant!

We coudn’ really do much about it so we continued climbing as we were quite close to the summit. From the Plateau de Petits Rochers Rouges (~4550m) we walked up in a northwest direction to the summit of the Mont Blanc (4807m). We were quite happy to be there but also felt gutted that the camera was gone. We asked someone to take a picture of us and shared our email addresses with them. We didn’t spend much time on the summit as we still had hopes that we would find the camera during our descent. Halfway down the summit slope, I had an idea: What if I could reconstruct the trajectory of the fall and identify the approximate location of the camera. After all, the issue was that the camera was a small object in a vast white environment. And so, I took a box of biscuits from my bag and let it roll down the slope, carefully monitoring where it went. After several hundred metres it stopped somewhere on the coll and I said to Alin: There it is! Would you believe me if I tell you that when we got there, to our shock and surprise, the camera was 5-10 metres away from the box biscuits (which survived the crash by the way, incredible!).

After saving the camera, the return home was event-free.