Taking the High Road

For reasons that are now unclear, Vicki, I, and Fred Blumenstein become preoccupied with hiking from Chamonix, France to Zermatt, Switzerland in 1986. We were aware of a famous cross-country ski track called the Haute Route, and we thought it would be fun to hike it in the summer. Fred, who grew up in France called the Chamonix Guides for information. We planned to hike the route on our own, and the guide we talked to said, “ Well you can do that, but if he wish to come back alive, I suggest you hire a guide.”

Alps

When we arrived in Chamonix, our guide Pierre met us at the Mt. Blanc Hotel, where we were staying. The trip would take five days over glaciers, and we would be staying in high mountain huts. I later learned the Haute or high route could go in many places. We were taking the highest possible way, and yes, it was probably the most difficult.

Pierre

First we had to do a day of training with crampons and ice ax before we embarked on our trip. Pierre came to our room and inspected our gear. He discarded much of our clothing, as it was too heavy. The training day consisted of walking on a glacier and learning different walking techniques. For example, ten-ten was a way of walking downhill and maintaining stability. We learned about using a rope and avoiding crevasses.

That night we all enjoyed dinner at the hotel, where the waiter named Fred and me the fromage brothers, since we ate most of his cheese tray. In the morning we had a nice breakfast before meeting Pierre and driving out of town.

A chairlift helped us gain some elevation. At the top of the ski station we began our hike. Soon we were enveloped by snow, rock, and blue sky as we waked many kilometers. That night we stayed in our first high mountain hut.

Chamonix Mountain Guides are like NFL football players in the US.  Their training is rigorous and lengthy, and few make the grade. When Pierre walked into a hut, people gave him a wide berth and treated him with instant respect.  Typically he would find a place for himself in the guide’s room and then find us berths in the large sleeping rooms, where hikers stayed. We were given about 18 inches of floor space in which to sleep. Strangers from other countries slept next to us. Dining was communal. The WC usually was next to a cliff, and negotiating the icy trail to these structures was a challenge.

David and Pierre

Over the next few days we covered a lot of distance. Pierre initially was difficult. He yelled at me a number of times because I stepped on the rope, a mountaineering sin, though not unexpected from an inexperienced climber like me. He and Fred spoke French together, and Vicki and I felt ignored. Finally I had enough, and I told Pierre to stop yelling, as it made things worse. That was a turning point and from then on he was much more collegial.

At one point Fred’s Achilles was very painful in spite of meds. He felt he couldn’t go on, and we left him in the village of Champex, where we ended one of our day’s hikes.

After taking a cab to another spot, Vicki, Pierre, and I set out. There were no trail signs, and Pierre used map, compass, and altimeter to find the best route. Typically we would hike over rocky terrain and then glaciers. Pierre was ever watchful for crevasses, which often were hard to see. As the day unfolded we eventually came to our hut for the evening, which was always perched on a high outcrop of rock so as to be safe from avalanches.

Vicki at rest

The way to the huts was usually hard. I remember on day, when we were approaching a hut in fading light with August snow falling and being driven by strong winds. We needed to negotiate a number of steel ladders to reach the hut.  Our crampons made the ascent difficult. When we reached the hut I had soup and immediately slept, as we had been hiking for many hours. After dinner we went to our sleeping space and immediately fell asleep again. We were both exhausted.

We rose early. The idea was to move across the snow and ice before the morning sun softened it. Though I was in good shape, I found the hike to be formidable. I liked it very much, but it was more difficult than any hike I had done before.

Like most activities, over the days we established a structure and rhythm of sleeping, hiking, and eating. We were getting on well with Pierre by then  and enjoying the wildness of the high Alps. As we neared the end of the hike, it snowed, and more was forecast the day we were due to walk into Zermatt. Pierre deemed it would be too dangerous to try to reach Zermatt by foot, so we came down a day early to Arrolla and then took a train to Zermatt. He offered to come to Zermatt with us and guide us up the Matterhorn. I wanted to do it, but we were meeting Fred, his wife Laura Rafal, and Mike and Vicki Miller, who had driven from Germany, where they were working, to spend a few days with us.

Zermatt

The time in Zermatt was fun and relaxing. We ate, walked, and rested. One day we walked from the ski station on Plateau Rosa to town. Fred remarked it was like walking through a postcard, and I couldn’t disagree. Part way down we stopped at a mountain hut and had apple strudel and fresh milk.

All too soon it was time to head to Paris. Though this was an adventure in its own right, I found it hard to bid farewell to the high mountains of France and Switzerland.