Cubby's recent climb of the Matterhorn with Stephen Venables for the making of the TV series Mountain Men gave him the chance to look back on his first ascent of the mighty mountain ten years ago as a newly qualified International Mountain Guide.
In my last column I had really intended to talk about the Matterhorn but after a week of sea cliff climbing on the west coast of Lewis some of the less attractive delights of fulmars seemed to be a more appropriate subject!
The Matterhorn, what a mountain, a symbol of challenge and great beauty. A mountain that the "normal" person in the street imagines how a mountain should be - sheer on all sides with great bounding ridges that gracefully converge to create one of the most majestic peaks in the world. By the Hornli Ridge, mountaineers from all walks of life and in all shapes and sizes arrive in their droves to conquer their Everest. And for many, with a guide their dream can become a reality!
It's always fascinating to watch a programme that I have participated in. The end product often only amounts to thirty or forty minutes of viewing but the volume of work that goes into making that film is immense.
On this occasion the relatively young, bright and artistic director (aren't they always!) was quite taken by the idea that Stephen Venables, who portrays Whymper togged up in period costume and I by contrast in modern day Gore-Tex, are seen climbing together. Essentially my role was to look after Stephen and the easiest way to implement this was by resuming my normal guiding role and to treat him as my client. Stephen was more than happy with this arrangement, especially as he had not been out climbing recently.
It was the end of the season and the mountain was relatively quiet - well by comparison to the three hundred daily tally expected on the Hornli during the height of summer! The hut itself was quite busy however and I met all sorts of characters I hadn't seen for a long time, climbing is like that.
Guy Shearer for example whom I'd met while cragging at the Falaise du Saleve near Geneva in the mid eighties. He invited me back to his parents place and I ended up living there for a month, drinking their finest wine and food. Actually it was 15 years since I last saw Guy and sadly in that time he had lost both of his brothers to mountaineering. Filo, whom I had met was a great character and training to become a guide. I never met the other brother but both were swept away in a big avalanche on K2.
Nancy Feagan, the well-known American climber was also there with the intention of trying to get her dad up the big one! I first met Nancy on the making of the TV series, The Face when she teamed up with Barry Blanchard on Mount Proboscus in the Cirque of the Unclimables. Another couple, both of whom are guides, I met while they were on honeymoon at Joshua Tree. Other Guides I recognised from ten to 15 years ago while guiding on the Dent Blanche, the Zinal Rothorn and the Grand Combin, or on the slabs of Eldorado and Salbitchen.
They never said much then and they still didn't say much now but they knew me as the little guide from Scotland. Just a knowing nod in passing, usually on some God forsaken knife-edge arete at two o'clock in the morning! They didn't appear to have changed that much, climbing I suspect had helped to retain a youthful complexion. But that faraway stare, that distant stare that matures with too much climbing (or not enough) appeared to have deepened even more. I was glad not to be guiding quite as much!
More than content with our arrangement, Stephen and I, with Brian Hall looking after Keith Partridge the climbing cameraman, set off from the hut at 3.30am amidst the usual mayhem of sloppy guides, bobbing, dazzling torch beams, ropes and bewildered clients. Clients whose romantic preconceptions of climbing the Matterhorn were about to be rudely shattered!
Cubby (right) and Brian Hall in period costume
I'm not naturally drawn to mountains that have been trampled down and to some extent degraded, by those whose motives are not normally associated with climbing - motives that assure yet another step closer in climbing the corporate ladder. To contradict myself, the Matterhorn is a big tick. It's one of those peaks that falls into the syndrome of "have you ever climbed the Old Man of Hoy sonny - getting down is the hard bit, is it not?" or "would you like to climb Everest some day, or do you see yourself as another Chris Bonnington".
I climbed the Matterhorn relatively late in my mountaineering career. In fact it was shortly after I qualified as an International Mountain Guide. I was very proud and displayed my shiny new badge for everyone to see. In the continent guides are treated like some kind of demi God and I have to confess to enjoying some respect.
Alan, an old client and friend of mine, arrived in Zermatt, fit and keen after nearly three weeks together. We had, over the years shied away from the more popular alpine resorts of Chamonix and Zermatt, preferring instead to climb some of the great alpine peaks from the lesser frequented valleys of Zinal and Handegg. But the Matterhorn had to be climbed as much for its beauty if not for the overall experience! On a typical summer day, two to three hundred climbers will top out on the Matterhorn's narrow summit crest. The route, well trodden via the Hornli Ridge presents one of the finest scrambles in the Alps. Four hours up and four down is a respectable time for a party of two.
Despite the Hornli's sharp defining crest, route finding is a lot more complex than you might think, especially in descent and to lose the way can result in unimaginably loose and dangerous gullies that are a great risk to both those who stray off route and from rocks dislodged onto others below. I've climbed many harder and more menacing peaks in the Alps but there is an air about the Matterhorn that is eerie and haunting.
We walked up the High Street in search of a quaint modestly priced, little hotel which I'd stayed at some years previously, when we were confronted by a procession of Mountain Guides. In Zermatt, everything is modelled on the Matterhorn. Matterhorn chocolates (Toblerone of course), Matterhorn bread, food, jewellery, transport, watches, hotels - its Matterhorn madness! The procession slowly marched by, conspicious in its lack of colour. We detoured via the cemetary which is a big tourist attraction in Zermatt, and where many of the great names in alpinism lay to rest - some more prematurely than others.
The Matterhorn dominates the village of Zermatt and characteristically a flag of cloud streamed from the mountain's North Face, while down below the town was in mourning as one of its more senior guides had been killed only days before our arrival. His client had slipped and plucked both of them from the face to their deaths.
The Matterhorn is steeped in history and tragedy and witnessing the procession on our arrival only added to my apprehension at the thought of climbing such a famous mountain. But first we needed to rest, for already that day we had been up since 2am and from the Cabin D'Valsory, climbed the South Face of the Grand Combin, descended the Corridor Route and returned to the Valsory before making the long descent into Bourg St Pierre. A round trip of about 12 hours during which time we met only one other guide and his client on the entire mountain!
I liked the Valsory, I often stayed there on the Haute Route. Bernard, the guardian, a big athletic looking character with a deep voice, always made me feel so welcome by giving me little chores such as washing the dishes etc. In completion of my chores I was always rewarded with a few home made schnapps. I often thought there was an ulterior motive behind Bernard's friendliness but he was never offensive or made any advances! But I was later to learn that Bernard lost his job because of his homosexuality!
Before Stephen and I left the hut to begin our ascent, my mind wandered back to that first experience. The Zermatt Guides are addicted to the Matterhorn. They usually spend up to four nights there and it appears to be something of a social scene amongst local and regional guides who catch up on the latest gossip and indulge in a few soirees. They climb the mountain three days in succession, a different client each day, with the client making their own way to the hut.
Now I'm not saying this of all guides but what I witnessed was an eye opener. The guiding ratio on the Hornli is 1:1 and the often lonely clients first acquaintance with their guide will more often than not be at 2am during the morning madness. "Madame or Monsieur so and so," the guide will call out until the client tracks down the monotone voice. "Guten Morgen," upon which the guide will ruthlessly empty the contents of the clients sack to reduce weight - including water! The rope is tied to the "victim" and off they go at high speed.
Not suprisingly, due to an unsuitable pace, the client burns out before the Solvay Hut (a bivouac hut roughly half way up the climb). Should the client not manage to keep up with their guide, the Solvay is the recognised turnaround point! To watch these troops of bobbing head torches, like luminous caterpillars, to and fro through terraces, over ridges and round rocky towers, is an incredible sight. I was certainly intimidated when I guided the Matterhorn for the first time but as much from a professional point of view, feeling my way and desperately making sure I didn't lose the route. "Always to the right, always to the right," comforted the friendly guide with whom I had conversed over a glass or two of the local schnapps the previous night.
Stephen Venables as Whymper
Stephen's costume turned a few heads with an expression on their faces that wondered if Whymper's ghost had returned to haunt the mountain? Stephen donned his modern boots and packed away his nails until the filming began but otherwise his nails appeared to offer a surprising amount of bite on the rock. Everyone we met was good natured and respected what we were doing. There was a general sense of great admiration for the pioneers of a by gone era in mountaineering.
At the Solvay hut we waited for Brian and Keith. It's always interesting to see how people adapt to altitude. Unfortunately I'm very slow and a day on the Breithorn was simply not enough preparation. I was fine at the Solvay but by the time we got to the summit I was beginning to feel worse for wear. Brian didn't look too good at the Solvay but picked up considerably as the day wore on, no doubt his formative years in the Himalayas kicking in. Curiously, Stephen, despite his Everest veteran status, was suffering a bit and said that he too was slow to acclimatise.
Ten years ago I was super fit and well acclimatised and we overtook the few guides that were ahead of us, making it up and down the mountain in time for afternoon tea in Zermatt! But today we were making a film and we had to wait on the summit for two hours in a biting cold wind while the helicopter took some aerial shots. The next day we returned to the Red Tower, which is about an hour from the Hornli Hut. As the day wore on a storm brewed up and snow began to fall silently from the static atmosphere. The majority of guides turned back that day.
"Mr Whymper I presume," somewhat cheekily said one guide as his exhausted Japanese client looked on in complete disbelief at the apparition standing in front of him. "Velly, velly had, too had for me," said the Japanese client, barely managing to complete his sentence. "Monsieur Darbelly," the guide said introducing himself. Darbelly, I thought to myself. That's a famous name and then Stephen, quick to reply, "son of Darbelly, the famous alpinist." "Of course," the young guide replied, "son of the famous Darbelly but no less famous than his father!" - ah, such are the French.
I was pleased to see Guy, now an aspirant guide, descend from the mist with his client too. On completion of our film work we began our descent to the hut. Two Brits who had just completed a traverse via the Italian Ridge, stood in front of us on the crest of a little ridge, backed by Zermatt and the Michabel group. A nice photo I thought and stopped to take my camera out.
Through the mist above I noticed two climbers going slightly off route. The fresh snow I suspected must have concealed the scratch marks that aid route finding. I took a photo but felt uneasy so I turned to make another precautionary look up before putting my camera away. As I did so two blocks the size of a volleyball frapped only inches from our heads! It was a not so subtle reminder that you can never let your guard down in the mountains.
Summer season ended on that day. Snow fell below the level of the hut and only "real" climbers would be seen on the mountain from then on.
After that first ascent Alan and I sat outside on the hotel veranda drinking beer in the warm afternoon sun and eating rosti, I have to admit to feeling a sense of achievement and smug in the knowledge that I would never have to make up any more excuses as to why I had never climbed the Matterhorn, again!
Cubby
28/6/2001
Pics: Cubby Images
