I have read
Into Thin Air. I remember it being a book I had a difficult time putting down. I have always been a fan of Jon Krakauer. I liked his style of writing at a time when I was beginning to notice things like that. A bit like paying attention to how a food is spiced I suppose. Maybe it was just me growing up...probably. But I liked the book. I still have it. It made it onto the shelve of books "that shall never be passed on". Amen. I also remember being very sure, after reading the book, that I never wanted to climb Everest. I'm not afraid of physical challenges. And I don't think I am afraid of climbing that mountain. I just like living more than I like almost dying. Family can do that to you. I can surely appreciate the attraction that something like that has on people. But I don't want to climb it.
Fast forward to September 20, 2011. No, I still have no interest in climbing Everest, K2 or any of the other ascents that make it on the cover of
Outside magazine. But my sense...my true appreciation for the effort and intensity that it takes to do something that has increased substantially.
The weather was beautiful the day the group headed up the mountain towards the Breithorn. Out of respect to Edmund Hillary and the other 4,000 or so folks who have climbed Everest, it is important to note that Breithorn is about half as high as Everest. It has a gondola that runs near its summit...maybe a 1,000 feet short. If it wasn't covered with a glacier and snow, it might be an easy hike. There is an observatory and a gift shop. Everest...it is not. But for me at least...and maybe the majority of the 45 students and teachers...it was
our Everest. We all had to get fitted for crampons the day earlier. The boots we wore were not the hiking boots that we purchased in Colorado. They were special 'stiff' boots used specifically for rock climbing. I guess the Breithorn is a rock. New boots in Zermatt cost up to 750.00. I borrowed a pair from the school that were a size and half bigger than my shoe size. Three pairs of socks didn't help. All students and teachers were broken into about eight different groups, each with a trained leader. Our leader was the Italian Marlboro man. He was a mix of Fabio, Eddie Van Halen and Robert Plant. All of us in our group dressed like we were venturing into the artic. He dressed like he was heading to a singles bar on the back of a horse. He actually lit up a cigarette on the top of the mountain...at almost 14,000 ft. Fabio hooked us all up to the same rope, gave us some brief directions in a mix of broken English and Italian and lead us out the door toward the beginning.
Like dogs strung together for the Iditarod...
It didn't take long for me to realize that this afternoon's frolic in the snow was going to be tougher than I thought. First of all, the optical illusion caused by blinding white snow and a bright sun was amazing. What looked to be 100 meters away was actually a mile away. What seemed flat was actually uphill. And to me, it seemed logical that the crampons would go on as soon as our feet touched the snow. How I think and how Fabio thinks...are not the same. We walked about 45 minutes in snow that at times was crusty, at times was powder and at times was lumpy and bumpy like a rutted-out dirt road. My size 11.5 boots and three pairs of socks were not getting me gracefully from point A to point B. And Fabio was starting to get on my nerves. He even scolded us at one point about how we should walk..."use short steps".
Finally, we reached a designated point that all the groups stopped and put on their crampons. They are oversized tire chains for boots...sharp metal spikes hanging down from a metal base. And sharp enough to slice a hole in your ski pants...that occurred for me on about stride #10. The crampons made an immediate impact. Then the path went up. And while the crampons continued to provide amazing help, they could do nothing to overcome the altitude or percent grade we were climbing. "Dammit Fabio...put out the smoke...those of us in the back need some O...not CO".
The march of the ants...
The climb began in earnest almost immediately. Our eight groups traced the letter 'Z' up the hill. The wind blew the snow around...sometimes up our noses and down our jackets. If nothing else, the wind made it seemed like January 20th...not September 20th. The climb required short, patient steps and a strong focus on putting your foot in the same spot as the person in front of you. No sense plowing new ground when when that didn't have to be done! The walk to the top took about an hour. The last 20 meters or so were along the ridge line of the Breithorn. That was a bit of a surprise. Climbing up one side of the mountain...one might assume that the grade and terrain would be similar on the other side. What the other side had was...nothing. Just a straight drop towards the beautiful hamlet of Zermatt...and certain death.
The short, narrow ridge with the Matterhorn and France in the background...
We ended up eating lunch at the top. It was hard to focus on food or eating when you had a 360 degree view of central Europe. Italy to the south, France to the west and Switzerland to the North. The old expression of "the world is a small place" disappeared from my head. The world is huge...and I was sitting somewhere near the top and center of it.
Our group is seen at the top. This act in and of itself...standing and posing in the designated spot for a photo taken by your guide...seemed a bit touristy. But who could care when the reaction of one of our teachers of above was shared by everyone who did the climb. It was an awesome feeling knowing we all had just done that!! And it was awesome knowing that the only direction we had to head now was....down.
It was an amazing day. It did nothing to make me want to climb the 'serious' mountains. But it did provide me some motivation to challenge myself physically...to push myself. Yeah...Switzerland is rubbing off on me and teaching me a thing or two.
