From the Alps, as it
kinda happens
3 months ago when 3 guys were sat
around a bar after an indoor climbing session were talking about doing
something epic this summer. There were many ideas bought to the table. We had
the maps out. We were throwing our interests out there and trying to put
together something that would be feasible to do in a respectful budget and when
we said for the summer it officially gave us no time to put it together/train/
get the beers in that kinda thing. In the end we agreed on a climbing trip in
the Alps. We agreed that it had to be a respectful objective within our grade
and something we could all come home alive from. In the end we chose Switzerland
as our playground for 2 weeks with an ideal target of being able to climb some
big impressive mountains doing it all in alpine style and making it an
adventure to stick in memory for a good time if not all of time.
Now unfortunately with all great ideas
when they turn into plans something has to go wrong and unfortunate to say but
we lost our 3rd guy due to time constraints. But with 2 of us ready
to give the mountains hell we quickly put together a plan and got working on
prepping for the big trip, myself and my good friend and fellow climber David
started putting objectives and logistics together for the trip. We agreed for
the 1st time in our 3 year partnership as alpine climbers we would
drive down to the alps whereas in year 1 I flew in to meet him and year 2 (the
failure year) we hooked up a bus to Geneva and a taxi service to Chamonix (may
I recommend that nobody in their right mind never use Eurolines as a means of
transport across Europe. Being in a cattle transport is by far more comfortable,
reputable and oh yeah, better!). We also set a plan in place that technically
wasn’t a plan. We agreed to leave it to the last minute to commit to the trip
as with the last year mother nature got all pissy and decided to shut down the
mountains for the duration of our trip thereby causing us to bail and put some
summits and routes on hold until the next time. Our game plan was either drive
to Switzerland if the weather was going to play or if Mother Nature thought we
needed another year away from the mountains we would go for a road trip around
the UK climbing new areas and testing our trad climbing abilities. On Wednesday
the 1st August we made the call to drive out to Swiss and take on
the big mountains once more.
On Friday the 3rd August,
just after I finished work and set off for the coast to pick up Dave. We
settled down, sorted out gear, maps, route to Saas-fee and had dinner with the
family. Around 8pm we set off for Dover where our ferry awaited. We were
supposed to get a 1am ferry but to our surprise we were offered an earlier
ferry which of course we accepted. The first thing we hunted for once onboard
was somewhere to rest but with all ferries as soon as people park they run for
the nearest seat and as things go, we found 2 chairs in the family area to
rest……….kinda. Driving from Calais didn’t go as all to plan. As we had planned
to avoid all forms of toll charges our route sent us through Belgium and Luxemburg
before taking us into Switzerland. At the border we had an epic problem. The
border had no guards and nowhere to buy swiss road tax. This didn’t bother me
so much but Dave was insistent that we find somewhere to buy some. So we
stopped in the first town, nothing. We stopped at a tourist information,
nothing. We spent hours hunting from town to town until we stopped in a city
called Spiel where we dumped the car in an underground and went running round
the city in search. It was after I stopped a random and asked he gave me the
exact answer we needed. A quick sprint to the post office or “post” next to the
train station and problem solved! Now back to the road we made up for lost
time. As we passed south through the country we saw from a distance the iconic
and impressive north face of the Eiger, a mountain I one day hope to climb. We used
this underground car transport that looked like it was from the mining era. So
sketchy a rickety I did wonder whether we’d die on the track. Shortly after it
darted us through the mountains we arrived in Visp, I class it as that town in
the middle before you reach the big old mountains. I can’t remember much about
Visp, except for the call made on a girl passing by. I classed as too young but
Dave said yeah to her. Moving on, we pushed on into the mountains, stopping off
at a petrol station for fuel. There was jaeger on sale there but I refrained
out of principle.” I may collect it on the way back who knows” I thought to
myself. When we eventually made it to saas our instant hunt was for a camp, or
parking, or somewhere to ditch the car. We found a campsite called Mischabel at
the end of Saas Grund. Relatively cheap and we were given citizen cards during
our stay. This gave us free use of all the lifts, cable cars, buses and trains
in the valley. To anyone wanting to get into the mountains, this is a gift from
the gods! It certainly saved our arses from 8 to 10 hour approaches to find a
base camp let alone start the climb. It was a relief to finally be here. Mountains
all around, the scene was set for an awesome adventure.
We knew that the first couple of
days in the valley were gunna be bad weather days. So to help with
acclimatising we went up on the Sunday up the lifts to just over 3000m. It was
wet and windy but we got a lot done for such poor conditions. We scouted our
route up the Lagginhorn which earlier this year made news when 5 German
climbers got blown off the ridge but as unfortunate reminders of how dangerous
our passion can be it doesn’t hinder us from our goals. The face of this
mountain surpasses everything in the area. As you take the lift up it just has
a presence that dominates everything around. It definitely inspired me to give
it a bloody nose. The next day we moved into position for a summit push, again
the weather was windy and wet. During a brief spell we found a bivvy site next
to a river and set up camp. Our rest seemed fitful for the challenge at hand
early the following morning.
Early the next day, like real early,
around 12.30am we woke to a disgusting breakfast of porridge and just porridge,
urgh to porridge period. Getting ourselves ready is a cold challenge, with the
gear you need and the mental game you have to be in getting yourself out of a
sleeping bag is enough to make an Olympian weep. Then there’s the matter of
getting out of the tent. When sleeping is all you want to be doing (by nature)
getting yourself to hike up some unknown terrain in pitch black with nothing
more than a head torch to aid your way is not really any normal persons cup of
tea. The murrain trek up was an interesting piece of work. We managed to get
lost en route thinking we had made it to the glacier crossing and all we really
had found was a small snow patch in a bowl of rocks. We quickly realised this
and instead of putting the crampons and axes away they were simply clipped to
our harnesses and we carried on up being stabbed every few paces. When we
eventually met the glacier it was a gentle and somewhat agonising hike across
on the feet. Me still not having a good sock and boot combination my feet were
rubbing terribly! I could feel blisters forming, and bruising occurring all
over and all I could do was just carry on. We eventually made it to the rock
ridge where I could find a brief release from the pain of having your ankle
wrenched every time you take a bad step on the ice but with climbing, rest
never lasts long.
As we started blasting up the ridge
we were slowly feeling the effects of altitude sickness. Where this was a
physically demanding route of scrambling round and over rocks at a respectful
angle we were both struggling for air. I was trying to suck in as much as I
could. Moving one leg in front of the other, it became a monumental task. Like
going for that epic amount of effort people do, over and over again for hours
on end. It was unrelenting and soul destroying almost. We made it past the
“easy” rock section in good time, pushing on and pushing each other. We made it
to the upper ice and rock section. We decided to try and follow the rock lines
to avoid more time wasting putting crampons back on. This became precarious in
some areas but by this time the sun had started rising to route finding became
less of a challenge. We raced for the summit as both our conditions were slowly
deteriorating as clearly we were not acclimatised for the mountain. The summit
itself is quite a small rocky area with 2 bits of scaffolding welded together
to form a cross (not the most dignified way to display belief in my view). Dave
was the first to make it up and with an almighty roar he yelled out “YES!!!” I
on the other hand was a bit more toned down. Stoked to have made it but I think
the altitude had taken away part of the flame that is the ascent. We got photos
done and bailed out sharpish to some cover below on the east face. The wind was
howling and while trying to catch my breath and get some food and water down me
I was slowly passing out, wanting to sleep and really having to battle it. We
in a very sharpish manner cramponned up and started down-climbing the fastest
route we could see. As we descended the snow beneath our feet was nothing more
than inch thick and under it was bullet ice which as much as you try, your
tools will never go into it. I had some close calls and had to descend in a way
that would see someone descending an 8000m icefield, using nothing more than my
axe and my toe-points on my crampons, desperately trying to bury them in the
ice we eventually made it down to clean and easy rock.
Our ascent of this mountain seemed
somewhat quiet. As we were the only ones on it during such perfect conditions
it seemed suspicious that nobody was attempting it then just as we made it down
to the lower part of the rock we bumped into our first party, then our second
and third and fourth. This was about 7am at this time and they were still 2
hours minimum from the summit. This baffled us massively because a rule of
thumb with high alpine climbing is being slick and fast, bagging the summit at
sunrise and being off and out of the danger zone (crevasses field, bergschrund,
cornices) before the sun has time to turn them into death traps. By the time we
had got back to the start of the glacier we had passed well into the double
figures of parties and they were still coming!! The only thing going through my
head was what the actual fuck? I spoke to one of the last guys to come off the
glacier and he didn’t really give a good enough reason behind it so as people
do I just said good luck to em and got my arse out of there. Back at the tent
we could see people summiting and few coming back on the glacier pass that goes
directly under the west face. It all seemed very worrying, we knew the ice
conditions up top were only getting worse and with that mountains reputation I
could only fear for the guys and girls up there. Thankfully parties were coming
down but avoiding the west face, taking the ridge all the way down past our
camp. We can only hope that all parties chose this route or the south ridge.
The sun was hot that day so the snow and ice would be an instant slush and
avalanche hell.
Our descent back to the lift station
was fitful. With full packs and a sense of success under our belts (the first
in 2 years!!!!!!) we were craving more. A long hike back to the campsite and a
victory baguette later we were doing our post-ups to inform the world of our
success. Me over Facebook and Dave over his blog as Facebook isn’t his thing
apparently. We had chosen a new objective on the other side of the valley. A
mountain called the Alallinhorn. It’s another 4000m summit and we wanted to
test ourselves with another big ass mountain and see how we faired up there. We
had 2 choices for the route. There was the simple snow plod from a lift station
up some summer ski piste to the summit which seemed excessively tourist and
boring or the alpine style from a very wild location with massive objective
danger and included a fun rock climb before the summit. We naturally went for
the adventure (of course).
The next day we packed up from the
campsite and moved our arses up the valley to saas fee where like everywhere we
had been to for some reason was full of Jews! We pondered this and figured out
they were using the “bergerpass” which for 3CHF a day gives you free use of the
lifts in the sas fe valley. We were also doing this but there were so many Jews
I couldn’t help but make a reference to Hitler and clearly this was what was
missing in his plans back in the 40’s( I don’t actually mean this, Jews have
equal rights to us but for the love of god don’t hog the fucking lifts you
dim-witted fucks!) . We got the lifts up to 3000m or about and noticed we were
famished. Dave kindly bought us burgers as the food we were carrying had to
last us 2 or 3 days. At the top station we had timed it wrong with all the
skiers coming off the glacier and the amount of skiers just blocking us really
helped my hatred towards the breed of fairy booters!! We made it out eventually
and got ourselves onto the pass heading for our intended camp. The guide book
classed it as “the most depressing walk in the Alps”. With only 39m of height
gain we thought hell with it how hard can it be? Those words will haunt me for
all of time. The route started with a super dangerous snow pass. The route was
slushy and above there was a rock and ice face just releasing boulders as and when
it pleased. And what scares me is people with barely any sense with kids were
walking up there!! Myself and Dave just agreed not to rope up and gun it. With
heads pointed at the face and ears tuned in to the sound of crashing rock and
ice we blasted across only having to dodge 3 rocks in total. Round the corner
however showed us we were far from done. From where we were standing we could
see the hut that we would hopefully find a camp nearby. Between us and it there
was what can only be described and walking through the bowels of hell itself.
With no real route set through you had to hop through boulders, ford streams of
ice and water and cross dangerous high angled snowfields. For a good couple of
hours we spent working our way through this getting heavily drained and route
finding was a bitch. There was another pair of hill walkers that chose to turn
back (smart) because it was getting quite hairy in places. The further we went
the less and less markers we saw. We eventually made it to the base of hut where
we noticed a lower much easier path snaked its way through the valley below. We
agreed this was going to be used on the retreat out (heavily annoyed we never
noticed it to begin with, cunt). After cresting the ridge of the hut we dumped
bags to scout the area to only find our hope of a bivvy spot near the hut was
non-existent. There was no water supply and nowhere safe to put up the tent. In
an effort of hope we pushed on up the glacier in hope we would find something.
Apart from mountain goats kicking rocks at us we didn’t find much. Where the
path meets the start of the rock field and glacier we met 2 British climbers,
back from scouting a route up the Strahlhorn they mentioned a tent further up
the rock field. We instantly went up and found the area. Not exactly the best
spot we’ve ever pitched. The ground was constantly shifting, constant sound of
something crashing or crumbling and no flat area to get the tent up so we still
put it up anyway.
With the tent in the safest place we
could find we first went in hunt for water. The glacier was not far from the
tent. The challenge was finding a stream runoff that didn’t fill our bottles
with debris which in most cases, there was a lot of, but hey at least we found
water. That night after plastering up, causing an epic fail while cooking
(knocked over the water as it was boiling, no food was ruined but fail either
way), reading books and scouting the route we settled down for the night, or at
least attempted to. The glacier was constantly shifting through the night
causing many boulders to move, crevasses to open and a lot of concern for what
might roll down in the night and crush us, luckily that never happened. We
“woke” at around 2am to another epic crap porridge breakfast and got ourselves
under way. The glacier crossing was full of crevasses and navigating through
them was a bitch. The next fun stage was a steep icy face that was painful on
the old feet. We blasted up this section knowing when the sun hit it would turn
everything we were climbing into shit. The next stage was a fun little 15m rock
climb, nothing hard in the grade, just fun to do at altitude with an incredibly
fun committing move that really got our hearts racing. The final stage was a
ridge plod which I led to the summit which was a pretty decent cross cemented
into the rock summit which we both climbed up onto to claim the mountain!!
Photos were taken and we got our first look at all the mountains in the Zermatt
range including the rather captivating Matterhorn. Such a pretty and scary
looking big bit of rock that I have been obsessing over for months, it looked
marvellous to say the least.
The descent was somewhat of a tough
decision, we knew that backtracking and descending the ascent route would be
difficult with the ice faces turning to slush and the crevasse field would be
on the move making a retrace impossible. Or there was the normal route, which
is done in an hour from the top station but that meant doing a gigantic
monumental traverse of mountain range and go back to the “fun” route we hated
taking the previous day. We chose to suck it up and take the normal route. We
made it down to the ski piste before actually seeing any other climbers which
again was confusing but saying that it was becoming clearer that late summits
were the thing to do around those parts. We played the game of roulette and
darted across the piste dodging skiers and made it to the top station. To our
surprise it was an underground train that tunnelled into the range and not your
typical cable car. Despite being freezing and having no chairs it was a good
site to see, and the floor seemed adequate. The next stage was to get ourselves
back to camp, a good hour away. We chose to make a gear stash at the lift
station and went with 1 empty pack and set about making the fastest trek across
and back to the tent anybody had ever made, and we did not disappoint. With
heavy chests and beaten lungs we blasted down the lower stages of the pass and
did not stop until we got to the tent. There we gave ourselves 5, restocked on
chilled glacier brew and got straight back to packing the camp up and hauling
arse back to the station. We turned the return journey into 3 stages and
between me and Dave we shared the load. Me holding the 1st and 3rd
haul and Dave on the 2nd so he could get back to his pack while I
contended with the snow face. The return journey again took us just under an
hour and definitely exhausted us. Back at the station we had a couple
“interesting” scenarios. We witnessed a father and his very young son walking
across the snow debris face (thankfully they made it across, no harm), we
witnessed some Jews with no mountain experience or correct footwear or anything
attempt it (rage for incompetence) and not get far and we were asked by an
elderly British couple about the condition of the route. They were experienced
walkers and had mentioned they had done the route before but were concerned due
to the closed and danger sign and I don’t blame them. I advised the snow was ok
but partially slushy and that past the snow face it was easy stable safe
ground. I warned them that it’s still a potential danger with rock-fall and
just to keep their wits about them and keep their eyes and ears open, they
chose to do the route. I felt I had been responsible for those guys and feeling
the weight I chose to wait and make sure they made it across the face before I
moved on. That was a long hour of my life. They made it across with no rockfall
or snowdrifts but saying the what if factor I had that on my conscience, it was
my duty to make sure they got across ok.
The next epic part of the descent
involved the lifts. With all the snow turning to shit it was time for the
skiers to arrive in their masses and turn the cable car system into a cattle
market. With no concept of cueing it turned into a strong current of midgets
and skies dragging myself and Dave around. We forced ourselves into a bubble
and were instantly being slashed by skies and stabbed by poles. I’m pretty sure
this was Dave’s version of hell and after taking 3 hits to the face by the same
set of skies I wasn’t having a splendid time either. My axe was to hand and if
I’m honest the idea of a cull did cross my mind but 10minutes down you make a
change to another cable car. We took this opportunity to avoid getting in the same
lift. The next wasn’t so bad, a few tourists and a few snowboarders, and a dog.
We managed seats on this one thankfully and another 10 minutes of moderate
comfort later we were back in the valley of sas fe. To the bus depot we
trekked, which felt like a marathon. Uphill all the way and with no shops open
due to lunch laws (bastards) we walked, empty stomachs and full heavy packs we
walked. The bus was an hour wait, which inside the waiting area we slept and
hogged a lot of the benches. When the bus finally arrived, again the Swiss and
the art of cueing, something that needs to be addressed with local law
enforcements and should be dealt with in their normal manner, by being shot at
dawn! Was living up to its normal fashion. We battled again jumping over a
midget and clouting countless others with the rope and packs to eventually get
a seat. Once back in Grund it was a normal case of hiking back up to the
campsite but before all that it had passed 2pm, which meant shops were open
again! I opted to utilise this by buying 2 baguettes, shit loads of meat and
cheese. Back at the site we feasted like kings until our stomachs could take no
more. My belly was more full then it had been even prior to the trip and
despite having to force the last of the baguette down me it felt worth it.
Later that night I had my first shower of the trip. Despite only using water
and old clothes to dry myself it felt good just to wash off the blood and dirt
from my beaten body. That night we were introduced to our “traditional” creep
of the trip. Where last year we met a deranged American who for some reason had
to get into Switzerland without being stopped at the border and loved to show
off his prison tags which later stole
some money from some people staying in the hostel and bailed into the mountains
via a route we had advised him……..woops. The new chap was an elderly British
fellow. Very well spoken and with an almost eccentric accent he was reeling off
tale after tale of climbing all the back to the 70s and 80s and guiding and
being guided up such things like the north face of the Matterhorn. He also told
us of many deaths due to climbs in sas and Chamonix. We believed he was out
looking for climbing partners to go tackle some routes in the area, thinking
smart we chose to remain a disclosed party.
The following morning we had to
choose one more route in the sas valley to get full use out of our free lift
passes so while looking around the area it had occurred to us that the north
ridge of the Weismies seemed to offer that inspiring challenge. Harder than
anything we had thrown ourselves up against before it consists of moderate
grade level climbing up and over a long exposed ridge and a snow ridge top out
to the summit. All at high altitude, seemed like the perfect gig so we set
about getting ourselves up there and by mid-afternoon we were well and truly
established under the north ridge, just off a tourist trail by what I
officially claimed as Heart Lake. There we established a camp, got some food on
and spent time working out where certain points matched up with what was in our
guide book. We chose to also scout up the start of the route. An area called
the Lagginjoch was where our route started and to get to it you had to follow a
ridge scramble on uneasy ground, traverse a glacier and work through a scree
field, how hard can that be? We worked the ridge, made it to the glacier and
thought ok no biggy. Our mistake was not to go onto the glacier for what we
considered to be an easy trek across would later turn into a test of courage
and taking a risky gamble. That night we listened to the sound of thunderous
avalanches and high winds and hunkered down in our tent, I did not have a good
sleep.
3am came about all too quick.
Breakfast sucked arse but hey, at least this time we had a chocolate bar to go
with it! Then came the gruelling routine of getting our gear on. In a tent no
bigger than a fully grown fat man we got all our kit on including harnesses
which even (I reckon) a professional gymnast would struggle doing! We stepped
out into a cold dark place. I drained the snake and we got moving up the ridge.
On the way we passed many monuments of the mountains around the area. When I
passed one it caught me by surprised and after a good 30 second stare I was
pretty certain I was staring at the grim reaper! This shifted my confidents
somewhat and began the mind war that I was slowly loosing and believing I had
death breathing down my neck, it was only going to get worse. We made it up the
ridge and onto the glacier where again, it started getting worse. We traversed
over to what we thought was a scree field, oo no it wasn’t. It actually turned
out to be a giant pillar and with no real markings on the map we were lost. We
retraced our steps and tried again lower, and then higher but we were losing valuable
time and had no idea what was going on. We made the call to turn back which was
a major blow but with the sense of death on my case it was quite comforting
turning away. We made it back to the ridge and began the argument of whether we
should go have another crack at it. Me being against it and Dave being for it,
it wasn’t a fun hour. I eventually said fuck it and was totally not up for but
still re-racked up. By this time 2 more parties had showed up and sunlight was
starting to touch the valley so we went up for round whatever the hell it was.
We followed the parties through a weak point in the pillar and carried on to
the Lagginjoch. On route both my crampons fell off and my toes had gone past
the point of bearable pain. We parted ways at the joch and started working up
the ridge of never ending pinnacles and my lord what a tiring vendetta that
was. All the effort I put into keeping myself moving had made the fear of death
pass on and I started enjoying the route. With fun slab style climbing and some
tricky sections which when you are wearing normal rock climbing shoes would be
classed as a doddle. We chose on the other hand to not bother with them and
were climbing in our big ass boots which made hunting for foot holds
“interesting”. The pinnacles then led us to the crux pitch. Named the “Grand
dhala” it was 10m of good fun and tricky climbing. Dave led the pitch, French
freeing the route along with me doing the same, grabbing anything I could and
even standing on a giant stake we clipped. It was a fun test at altitude.
Onwards and upwards we continued
passing countless pinnacles which seemed to go on for hours. We stopped about 3
hours into the ridge to stop for water and let a team of 3 overtake us. At this
point the fun of climbing had caught up with me again. With the sun up and my
camera out we just enjoyed the moment saying screw it if we were supposed to be
at the summit 2 hours ago. The camera only lasted a minute though before it
froze in the wind so we agreed to keep moving. We powered on all the way,
sacrificing one piece of gear on an abseil until we caught the team of 3 at the
end of the pinnacles. We were greeted with a “well done” and joking over my
response of “we finally fucking made it!! Fuck you pinnacles!!!” we had a good
laugh before then parting ways again. Me and Dave choosing to catch our breath
while the swiss guys cracked on bagging the summit. Another party caught up
with us just before we set off for the summit. It was a couple in their 60s
doing the same route as us but with a different descent. We spent a good 10 minutes talking to these
guys and finally learnt to the reasoning behind the late starts. Apparently
swiss mountaineers are more laid back than normal swiss people and therefore
don’t worry so much. Fair enough, it made my mind feel a bit more at ease. And
considering he mentioned doing many difficult routes including the north face
of the Matterhorn in his 30s we were not exactly going to discard such
information. We parted ways and pushed up the snow ridge. Seeing an obvious
cornice (or better described as a snow wave) that the wind and sun were carving
into the east face we tread carefully, checking every step with an axe. This
didn’t stop both of us putting a leg through it in different spots. Making it
past that I was given the lead up the last steep mound of ice which led to
graceful snow summit. We made it here just before 1pm and to describe my
emotions as totally anti from that morning would be an understatement. I was on
my knees air guitaring my axe and was back to being honoured to have done such
a route. Despite it being the toughest route we had ever done we had made it.
This was a moment to get the photos done and congratulate each other. From the
previous year we met a group of Australian climbers called Brendon and Steve
and although our trip to the Alps had proved fruitless they managed a weather
window to climb Mont Blanc. In their summit photo Brendon was captured rocking
out the air guitar. I only thought it would be honourable to do one also.
Inspired by the man himself let’s hope the future sees more climbs with them.
With time and conditions totally
being against us and knowing we had only fought half the battle we decided time
to haul arse and get out of there. I led the descent and kept a strong fast
pace to avoid any chance of being the next statistic. Dodging crevasses and
blasting through the slush we made it to a relative safe point. There we
ditched the jackets and cracked on to the section we were both worried on.
Crossing snow bridges, bergshrund’s and putting ourselves in the path of a
potential death wish of a face. We approached these with caution and made it
with without a scratch. From there it was a blast down a debris and ice boulder
field and a quick nav through a multitude of big crevasses and then home free.
Total time on the decent route was just under an hour, well in the guide time.
10 minutes spent catching our breath and packing up our gear and we were back
to trekking back to camp. There we made pasta and were rather rudely documented
by passers by. Apparently mountain climbers are a rugged rare breed that
society doesn’t understand. So that gives them the right to interrupt my lunch
and take photos, hmmmmm. This over we cracked lunch in and got camp packed up
and bailed out of there. The first cable car origionally just had us in there
but out of nowhere a mass of people decided they were gunna jump in to. This
displeased us so in my moment of rebellionism I lifted my arms and made
everyone suffer the smell of a climber that hasn’t properly washed for a while.
Pretty sure they got the message because the next cable car we only had a few
in and actual space.
Back down in the valley we treated
ourselves to baguettes and even Dave nailed a carton of iced tea! To put it
lightly we felt on top of the world, next stop Matterhorn or so we thought. It
was all about to go horribly wrong.
Back at the campsite we asked to
check our bill for the week and it came with an epic blow, like a girlfriend
telling you you’re dumped because you’re not good enough. The final bill came
to 180CF!!, 100 more than we had anticipated!! This totally wiped me out and
put all plans of going to Zermatt out of the window. This put Dave in the
foulest mood I have ever witnessed from him. There was nothing for it, I was
going home and with Dave’s friend Jordan coming out at the end of the following
week it left him with a predicament. His choices were either come back with me
and fly out the next week or rough it out living in the hills for a week and
maybe solo something. He chose to come back with me, mind you he didn’t speak
to me at all. I used the last couple hours in the camp site to charge
everything I had and try to memorise the drive home which was looking more and
more of a challenge, we had booked a ferry for the Monday morning at 4am so
that gave us Saturday night and Sunday to get there. To “save” money I chose to drive east, up and
over the Grindlewold pass, avoiding the cost of using the Visp to Kandersteg
car train. So silently bidding farewell to the valley we drove north towards
home.
The first 50miles or so were pretty
simple, I knew I was aiming for a place called Oberwold where I would then turn
off and head up onto the Grindlewold pass. In the daylight this would have been
a piece of cake however it was dark, I had no co-driver as Dave had placed
himself in the corner and was just doing his sulk thing and I had no map. I had
no choice but to power up my phone and turn on my data roaming, one thing I did
not want to do, period. It turned out to be a life saver and I made every turn
correct but I had spent nearly £40 on just checking the map every now and again.
So yes I made it back but at a cost. I kept driving throughout the night making
it up to the pass. By far one the most fun roads to drive on I was blasting the
alpine roads and enjoying every moment. Every moment until someone crashed into
me! On a straight just outside a little village a driver coming the opposite
way decided in either his drunken or tired state to come onto my side and took
off my passenger mirror. I stopped along with a Porsche behind me but clearly
this Swiss dick had not noticed and carried on. Another £50 to add to the costs, thanks jerk! Off the pass eventually we started travelling
back west towards the capital of Bern. To take my mind off the mirror I took
the scenic route through a town where the road followed the curve of a lake.
With the lights of the city it looked stunning and bought back my calm. Through
this town I’m pretty sure I set off a traffic or speed camera but saying that I
haven’t received anything yet so I’m not gunna worry about that yet. At around
200miles into the journey I chose to pull over in a rest stop and sleep the
rest of the night. Must have been around 3am and I knew Dave wasn’t going to be
much help as he still wasn’t talking to me.
At 6am I said screw it as I wasn’t
actually sleeping so I carried on with the drive. Heading north just before
Basil we stopped for fuel. At this point Dave finally spoke. As we were driving
past 2 female hitch hikers aiming for Germany I think, one was quite petit and
not too bad, the other can only be described as a whale and going on the top
gear rule of fuel economy I suggested we take the slim one and leave the fat
one behind, nothing like a good joke to bring it back. he apologised for the
lack of chatting and explained that as climbing is the only thing in his life
and something prevents him from doing it (for example, my finances) then it
becomes like a global disaster to him. He was just trying to come to terms with
that, still not 100% but hey he broke out a truce pain au chocolat and we
cracked on. The next few hundred miles were a bit more enjoyable. We spotted 2
(YES 2!!!) Dacia Sandero’s and even an off-road version! Totally blew our minds
away. There was also some funky radio stations being played. Outside Luxembourg
however the reality of driving caught up with us. A car ahead of us had
exploded and engulfed itself into flame. Luckily fire crews were pretty
sharpish and by the time we passed it there were no casualties but it did mean
having to drive pretty close, luckily it was on the passenger side so I had
lost care for that side of the car.
Onwards into Belgium
the roads changed again, more shit now and holes and bumps to dodge. We stopped
just before the border with France to catch another break. Here I finally
changed out of my climbing gear. And actually put some real clothes on! We also
had one of typical film moments. Next to us there was a van parked up. the
driver casually got in, started driving off. I don’t think he noticed but his
back door was open, and on top of the washing machine or whatever it was there
was a cat in a cage. Me and Dave looked at the cat, then each other, then the
cat again. “Should we have said something?” “Nah man, cats got 9 lives innit”.
We never saw a cage on the side of the road so clearly it was fine. Back to the
road we pushed on for Dunkirk and by 7pm on Sunday we made it.
Now with all ferries if you arrive early chances are if
they’re feeling generous they tend to let you on at no extra cost, I guess we
caught them at a bad moment. They offered an earlier ferry for an extra cost of
60euros, I kindly declined. To pass 9 hours we cleared the car and tidily
packed everything, cooked dinner of pasta and chocolate and I even started
writing this piece. Around 11pm I chose to throw in the towel and get some
rest. Before long it was 2am and we were checking in to the ferry. With 2 hours
still before departure we stretched our legs and put the last of our change
together to buy a bag of crisps between us. When the call came out we were back
out sharpish and started boarding. Making it to the front of the ferry and in
good position to blast off the second we landed back in blighty. On board I
hunted for a power socket and good seats. By chance I found both! Dave picked
up a couple teas and with the advantages of WIFI I got online to post out I was
coming home early, and have my first proper chance to go through my photos of
the trip which bar my noob mistakes some of the panoramic I thought I did
rather well. Again I continued with the type up and looked forward to the
comforts that awaited me back home. Another 200miles down the road and back
home, thankful to be home but with the hunger of not completing the Matterhorn
I guess it’s a project yet to be completed. With 3 4000m summits completed in a
week I classed the week as a success. As much as the Matterhorn never came to
be on this trip and I’m not totally satisfied it’s not the end of the world. As
quoted from Travis Rice, something’s got to leave you hungry for the next time.
Knowing me this isn’t going to be my last time in the mountains. Yeah it was
tough going, I technically danced with death and gave it a good few
opportunities but at the end of the day if I want authenticity I have to
initiate it. Till next time fuckers.
