The Best Time To Climb The Matterhorn?

I saw a post from UK alpinist Tom Livingstone after he climbed the Hornili Ridge on the Matterhorn during spring 2019. The Hornili is almost exclusively a summer climb. Consequently, he had the mountain to himself, remarking on an enjoyable solo in beautiful, wintery conditions.

Before reading about this trip, I had little ambition to climb the Matterhorn. I envisioned traffic jams and accidents as hordes of inexperienced climbers and angry guides attempt to push past each other on the exposed ridges. Tom's recount gave me a new perspective. Was pre-season the best time to climb the Matterhorn?

The post was forgotten in the offerings of the Mont Blanc range, but the idea must have stuck with me. Almost exactly one year after Tom's climb, I, too, found myself in a famous Swiss resort, looking up at the iconic peak.

May 2020

Jasper and I arrived in Zermatt at about 8.30 pm Friday. It was a weird time to start a long alpine climb, but Jasper had just finished work for the week, and we only had a small window before Monday brought around more work and bad weather. The lifts were closed due to Corona. We planned to walk up to Hornilihutte during the night, have a quick sleep, and start with the climb in the morning.

Shouldering our packs, we marched through the boutique town of Zermatt, eager to escape the evening bustle of noisy tourists and the brightly lit windows of expensive souvenir and jewelry shops. Soon the asphalt gave way to dirt, and small wooden farmhouses replaced the restaurants and apartments. We ducked into the shadows of the pine trees behind the town and slowly made our way up the track towards the hut, our head torches bouncing in the dark.

Five hours later, we stumbled into the winter room of the Hornilihutte. After sharing a hot dehydrated meal and melting snow for the following day, we went to sleep at around 3.30 am - a time more appropriate to start a climb rather than rest for one.

Our phone alarms rang out only two hours later. I felt hungover and struggled to find the motivation to get up. We got ready in silence, a cold cliff bar while getting dressed for breakfast. Skipping coffee at 6 am? That's how you know something is wrong!

The Matterhorn towered some 1000 meters above us. Crampons crunched into firm snow as the glow of the morning sun crept down from its summit.

From Hornilihutte. We would only make it to about the height of the sun line on our first day.

The scrambley terrain that made up the first day. Hornilihutte in foreground.

Although the route finding wasn't always obvious, we never had to stop for longer than a few moments to find the best way up. The climbing was fantastic. Mostly low angled scrambling, with the odd steep section for good measure. The winter frost held everything together. It wasn't nearly as loose as I'd heard.

Luckily there are enough safe variations to avoid climbing under the snow. I imagined the same terrain during summer and couldn't help but think this could be the best time to climb the mountain. At times more difficult, but away from the crowds, and in its full alpine beauty.

We reached Solvay hut bang on lunchtime, hours later than we expected.

It was only once we had stopped in the shade of the hut, sharing bites of cheese and snickers, that we admitted how bad we both felt. The forecast for the next morning was clear. We agreed it would be a much more enjoyable climb in the early hours, with firm snow and a good rest.

I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep minutes after slipping out of my boots. We woke in darkness to melt snow and eat before falling back asleep.

Jaspers lonely headtorch, the lights of Zermatt just visible in the background.

Our alarms cut through the silence of the night. It was 3 am, a familiar time to wake up in the mountains. We were as chirpy as ever, having spent a night at 4000 meters and made good progress compared to the previous morning.

Climbing by headtorch, with gloved hands and crampons, I found the slab above Solvay to be the best piece of climbing on the route.

The weather was perfect, and the snow firm. We climbed in rhythm, sometimes side by side, chatting away as if it were an ordinary stroll through town.

The sun slowly rose behind us as we plunged upwards. A soft blanket of pink seeped over the horizon and begun breaking up the prevailing black that had surrounded us. Knumb fingers flicked off head torches. We rested on our axes, our bodies twisting so our cold faces could embrace the incoming warmth.

Taking it easy and watching the sunrise.

We spent a moment here. A minute or two at most. An insignificant amount of time otherwise, but I knew it was a moment I would look back on for the rest of my life. Perched on the side of possibly the most beautiful mountain in the world, watching the sunrise, totally at ease, and sharing it with a friend I had built a strong partnership with over the season. I couldn't ask for a better morning in the mountains.

We passed the statue of St Bernard and reached the summit at 7 am. The wind had picked up, indicating our weather window was closing and bad weather was coming. We snapped a selfie together and descended back to the hut by 10.

We took our time navigating the now heavy snow on our way back down the ridge. The descent, although long, was uneventful. We reached the Hornili hut in the afternoon as clouds started to roll in, engulfing the mountain behind us. We made it back down to Zermatt in time for a kebab and a Fanta.

Looking back to the Matterhorn from Zermatt.

"Out of condition" is how most people would describe the state of the mountain when we climbed it. Conditions are relative to the team's ambitions and skill. People shouldn't be so quick to disregard a climb due to it being more difficult or significant. For Jasper and me, the conditions were fantastic. Much more desirable than the dry and loose nature of this route in summer. Even if the climb took us twice as long as it would have in summer. Even if we didn't have tracks to follow to the summit. Working harder for the climb will always make that summit more rewarding and memorable.

Overcrowding on the Matterhorn during high season is a growing problem. An estimated 3000 people attempt the summit each year, up to 150 people per day during summer.

Combine this with the fact that the permafrost (essentially what holds the mountain together) is melting, and you have: More people and more rockfall, leading to more accidents. It is only a matter of time before the risk becomes unacceptable for most, and spring becomes the new season. This is not a problem exclusive to the Matterhorn either. Mont Blanc has recently had new restrictions and a quota system put in place for the same reasons.

Also, consider the guides who earn a living on the mountain. They are exposed to higher risk each year, and some are calling to ban casual climbers during the two busiest months of high season, July and August.

After thinking about the unique issues surrounding the Matterhorn, I can understand where they are coming from.

Am I suggesting that everyone who is wanting to try the Matterhorn should climb in these conditions? Absoulutely not. There is a greater risk if you get it wrong and it will take longer. Also, I understand some years this simply may not be possible. But if you are an experienced mountaineer wanting to climb the Matterhorn, why not consider planning your trip a few months earlier?

If you get it right, you'll have a better climbing experience and have the mountain to yourself, taking some pressure off the less experienced folk and guides who NEED to travel it during its high season.

Food for thought. Let me know what you think.

*Please if you use the Hornilihutte winteroom, or Solvay hut - carry out what you carry in! I’m looking at you Polish! Respect the mountains please.

**The Solvay Hut is only meant as an emergency shelter - don’t use if you can help it.