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We are excited to announce our new partnership with Global Rescue, the global leader in travel protection services. Our top priority is ensuring the safety and well-being of our clients as they embark on thrilling adventures in the Alps and beyond. By partnering with Global Rescue, SummitGuides offers clients the highest level of protection with access to medical, security, travel risk, and crisis response services.
Accidents or emergencies can occur even in the most carefully planned expeditions, and evacuation costs without coverage can get very expensive. With a Global Rescue membership, our clients have peace of mind knowing they are protected by world-class emergency resources and personnel. Global Rescue’s team has a track record of supporting more than a million members globally, providing dependable assistance when the unexpected arises.
When you choose SummitGuides for your mountain adventure, our team is here for your journey’s challenges and triumphs. Now, with Global Rescue at our side, you can take on any summit with confidence.
You can get a free quote by clicking here or contact us to learn more about this added layer of safety and how you can take advantage of this new benefit.

SummitGuides Partners with Global Rescue


At SummitGuides, we’re beyond excited to announce our partnership with Uphill Athlete, the world leader in mountain sports training. Founded in 2016 by renowned alpinist Steve House, Uphill Athlete has redefined how climbers, mountaineers, and trail runners prepare for their adventures.
Steve House’s accomplishments speak for themselves: a recipient of the prestigious Piolet d'Or, he’s known for groundbreaking ascents like the Rupal Face of Nanga Parbat. Beyond his achievements as a climber, Steve is a dedicated mentor who co-authored training bibles such as Training for the New Alpinism. His passion for empowering athletes has built Uphill Athlete into the trusted resource it is today, with a team of coaches, physical therapists, dieticians, and sport psychologists guiding climbers from beginners to elite mountaineers.
Through this partnership, SummitGuides clients gain access to exclusive discounts:
When you join one of our courses, you’ll benefit not just from expert guiding but also from a world-class preparation system backed by Steve House’s visionary approach. With Uphill Athlete’s science-based methods and proven track record, you can train smarter, climb stronger, and reach your goals with confidence.
Ready for your next adventure? Let SummitGuides and Uphill Athlete help you make it unforgettable.

SummitGuides Partners with Uphill Athlete to Elevate Your Training Experience


Choosing the right equipment for the Haute Route Ski Touring Chamonix to Zermatt is about finding the perfect balance between quantity, quality, and - most importantly - weight!
Remember, you’ll be carrying your gear for several days, so our top recommendation is to use lightweight, high-performance equipment. Whether for ski touring or any other mountain activity, paying close attention to your equipment is crucial.
Shaving off a few grams here and there may seem insignificant, but when you multiply that across every piece of equipment in your pack, those grams can quickly add up to a couple of kilograms - or more. And believe us, skiing with 2-3 kg less on your back makes a huge difference!
When packing for a multi-day ski tour like the Haute Route, don’t underestimate any technical detail. Sometimes, forgetting one essential item can mean the difference between completing the tour and turning back.
For instance, during a Chamonix-Zermatt tour a few years ago, we set off from the Cabane de Bertol on a beautiful but frigid morning: -15°C with 30 km/h winds. The clients started losing the adhesive on their skins one by one, and in that extreme cold, it was a nightmare to fix the situation with just duct tape and skin glue. Luckily, our guide had packed an extra pair of skins, and thanks to that, they made it to the final pass.
This highlights how vital meticulous planning and Haute Route Ski Touring Equipment selection is for your adventure. Below is a comprehensive list of gear that we always recommend for this legendary tour:
Layering is key to adapting to the changing mountain conditions. Here's what we typically pack for the Haute Route:














Choosing the right Haute Route Ski Touring Equipment will ensure a smoother journey:
































To keep your Haute Route Ski Touring Equipment within acceptable weight limits, aim for a total pack weight of no more than 10 kg. If you're guided, the pack can easily stay under 6-7 kg. While the list of items may seem extensive, it's essential to focus on lightweight gear for a successful and enjoyable Haute Route ski touring adventure.
For those planning to tackle this spectacular route unguided, we hope this detailed list proves helpful! If you’re considering hiring a guide to ease the load and enhance your experience, please check out our 7-day progam here.

Ski Haute Route Chamonix to Zermatt: The Ultimate Guide to Equipment



We are thrilled to announce that SummitGuides has officially partnered with Leave No Trace, a global leader in outdoor conservation and sustainability! This collaboration reflects our deep commitment to preserving the natural beauty of the mountains and landscapes that form the backdrop of our guided adventures.

At SummitGuides, our priority is to ensure unforgettable experiences for our clients while minimizing the impact on the environment. By partnering with Leave No Trace, we are stepping up our efforts to protect the planet, using their proven framework of education, training, and responsible stewardship to help shape a sustainable future for the outdoors.

Why Leave No Trace? Leave No Trace is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization that operates across 50 states in the U.S and in over 100 countries worldwide. Their mission is clear: to protect nature by harnessing the power of science, inclusive education, and hands-on stewardship. Their programs aim to equip outdoor enthusiasts with the knowledge and tools they need to enjoy and safeguard the environment. At the core of their message is a shared responsibility - whether you're on a short hike or embarking on an Alpine expedition, your actions matter.

This partnership is the perfect fit for SummitGuides. The mountains are our office, playground, and sanctuary, and we believe in respecting and preserving them for future generations. 

Whether you join us for a ski touring adventure in Silvretta, an ascent of the Matterhorn, or a trek through the Monte Rosa Spaghetti Tour, you can be confident that we're not only focused on your experience but also on reducing our environmental footprint.

What does this mean for our Clients? As we join forces with Leave No Trace, we are proud to adopt their guidelines into every aspect of our trips. Our guides will be integrating Leave No Trace principles into their briefings and itineraries, ensuring that each client leaves the mountains as pristine as they found them. From waste management practices to respecting wildlife and minimizing trail erosion, our clients will gain practical, actionable tips on how to become stewards of the environment.

By learning and practicing these principles, together we can protect the very places we cherish. This partnership empowers you, as our clients, to not only enjoy the outdoors but also take active steps in preserving it. 
Let’s embark on this exciting journey toward responsible adventure, ensuring that we keep nature intact for generations to come. Learn more about Leave No Trace and how you can make a difference at www.LNT.org.

SummitGuides - Climb responsibly, explore sustainably!

We Are Now a Proud Partner of Leave No Trace


At SummitGuides, we’ve always prioritized your safety and satisfaction during every expedition. Now, we're excited to announce a new service to elevate your experience even further: our partnership with WetterHeld, a specialist in parametric rain insurance.
If you’ve ever had an adventure interrupted by bad weather, you know how frustrating it can be.
Now, when booking any of our courses, you have the option to purchase WetterHeld’s parametric insurance. This insurance ensures that if it rains (or snow) beyond a certain threshold during your trip, you’ll receive automatic compensation.
While weather can sometimes affect reaching the summit, this service ensures that your investment is protected, even when nature doesn’t cooperate.
Here’s how it works: WetterHeld’s parametric insurance technology tracks weather conditions, and if rainfall exceeds a pre-set limit during your tour, you’ll get a refund automatically. This is a seamless, transparent process that requires no paperwork or follow-ups, so you can focus on enjoying your time in the mountains. Whether you’re joining us for a multi-day trek or a ski mountaineering course, WetterHeld has you covered.
By offering this service, we aim to make your adventure as stress-free as possible. At SummitGuides, we’ve always worked to ensure that every detail is taken care of, from technical guidance to accommodations. With WetterHeld rain insurance, we’re adding another layer of protection, ensuring that unpredictable weather won’t dampen your adventure - literally or figuratively.
Our clients’ feedback has been instrumental in shaping this partnership, and we’re thrilled to offer this service to enhance your experience. After all, when you’re climbing a mountain or trekking across glaciers, the last thing you should worry about is the weather affecting your plans.
To learn more about how this rain insurance works and how it can benefit your next SummitGuides adventure, get in touch with us.
We’re here to make your trip unforgettable, no matter what the weather brings.

SummitGuides Partners with WetterHeld to Offer Rain Insurance for Adventurers


The Matterhorn - just the name conjures images of an iconic peak, standing tall at 14,692 feet, casting its shadow over the Swiss-Italian border. For many climbers, it's the holy grail of mountaineering, and the dream of reaching its summit is often fueled by the sense of adventure and challenge it represents. But the real question is, do you really need a guide to climb the Matterhorn? It’s a simple question, yet the answer is more nuanced than you might think.
Let me ask you this: how confident are you in your mountaineering skills? Have you tackled peaks in the Alps before? The Matterhorn isn’t your average mountain hike - it’s an exposed, technical climb that demands a serious level of skill, stamina, and experience. Many would say it’s not about whether you can climb it, but how you want to climb it. With a Guide, you’re in experienced hands, benefitting from someone who knows the ropes, literally and figuratively. Going it alone? Well, you’re taking on the full weight of responsibility - route finding, navigating sudden changes in weather, and handling technical terrain.
Even highly skilled climbers often opt for a Guide on the Matterhorn. Why? Because conditions can change rapidly, and that local expertise can be the difference between a successful summit and having to turn back. The challenge isn’t just the height - it’s the combination of exposure, rock scrambling, and the ever-present risk of falling rocks.
For others, however, the lure of climbing solo is all about independence and self-reliance. But even the most seasoned adventurers will admit: this isn’t the peak where you want to test your limits without a solid backup plan. So, do you really need a Guide? Let’s explore this more in-depth.
When it comes to climbing the Matterhorn, safety should be your top priority. The climb is notorious for its technical difficulty, exposure, and unpredictable weather. A Mountain Guide significantly boosts your safety in several key ways, turning what could be a daunting and dangerous climb into a manageable - and enjoyable - adventure.
First and foremost, a certified Mountain Guide knows the terrain inside and out. The Matterhorn’s Hörnli Ridge, the most popular route, is a maze of loose rocks, steep sections, and mixed terrain (snow, ice, and rock). Guides are familiar with these challenges, having climbed the route countless times. They can quickly assess changing conditions, identify the safest paths, and ensure you're using the correct techniques for each section. Their expertise minimizes the risk of falls or mistakes that could lead to serious injury.
In addition to route knowledge, Mountain Guides carry essential safety equipment that the average climber might overlook or be unprepared to use correctly. While some of this equipment might seem standard, having a Guide to ensure it’s used properly is invaluable, especially in high-risk environments.
Furthermore, Guides monitor your physical condition throughout the climb. Altitude sickness, fatigue, and dehydration can creep up on even experienced climbers. A Guide is trained to recognize the signs of physical distress and will adjust the pace or route as needed, ensuring you stay safe while still making progress. They also make judgment calls on weather changes - something that’s often underestimated by solo climbers. A quick storm or shift in visibility can turn the Matterhorn into a deadly trap, but an experienced Guide knows when to push forward and when to turn back, keeping safety first.
Ultimately, hiring a guide isn’t just about completing the climb - it’s about completing it safely, with the right expertise at your side.
Deciding whether to climb the Matterhorn with or without a Guide is one of the most critical choices you’ll make. Both options come with their own set of advantages and challenges, and the right decision ultimately depends on your experience level, fitness, and comfort with high-risk situations.
Climbing with a professional Guide significantly increases your chances of a successful summit, especially if you're unfamiliar with the mountain’s complex terrain. The Matterhorn, particularly on the Hörnli Ridge, demands a strong understanding of rock climbing, scrambling, and mixed alpine terrain. A Guide will not only help you navigate the route but also provide vital safety support. They'll manage ropes, ensure proper use of equipment, and make judgment calls in challenging conditions. Additionally, Guides take the stress out of logistics, handling details like route finding, weather assessments, and hut bookings, letting you focus solely on the physical demands of the climb. If you’re not confident in your technical climbing skills or if this is your first time in the Alps, a Guide is definitely the safer option.
However, if you’re a seasoned mountaineer with experience on technical routes, climbing without a Guide might be more appealing. Going without a Guide gives you the freedom to set your own pace and embrace the adventure with complete autonomy. You won’t be tied to someone else’s schedule or decision-making process. But the risks are significantly higher - route-finding errors, unexpected weather changes, or simple fatigue can quickly turn dangerous. You’ll need to be highly self-sufficient, capable of making critical decisions in real time, and comfortable with exposure at high altitudes.
In short, if safety, guidance, and a structured plan are your priorities, hiring a Guide is the clear choice. If you value independence, have extensive mountaineering experience, and are prepared for the inherent risks, a climb without a Guide might be for you.
Climbing the Matterhorn without a Guide requires a robust set of mountaineering skills, honed over years of experience. This isn’t just a simple hike - it’s a technical alpine ascent that challenges even seasoned climbers. If you’re determined to take on the Matterhorn without a Guide, here are the essential skills you need to master to safely and successfully reach the summit.
First, rock climbing proficiency is non-negotiable. The Hörnli Ridge, the most commonly used route, involves a mix of scrambling and vertical rock climbing, often on exposed ridges. You need to be comfortable with sustained Grade 3 or 4 rock climbing (YDS Class 4 and 5) while managing ropes.
Route-finding skills are also crucial. Even though the Hörnli Ridge is a popular route, the path isn’t always straightforward. Finding the correct route can be disorienting. Knowing how to "read" the mountain is essential for staying on track and avoiding dangerous detours.
Weather and avalanche awareness are also critical. The Matterhorn’s weather can shift dramatically, with sudden storms or high winds posing serious risks. You’ll need to be able to assess weather patterns, identify warning signs of incoming storms, and make swift decisions about whether to proceed or retreat.
Another core skill is using alpine equipment. You must be adept with crampons, ice axes, ropes, and carabiners. Efficiently transitioning between rock climbing and mixed terrain (rock and snow) is key to conserving energy and time.
Finally, mental and physical endurance are paramount. Climbing the Matterhorn without a Guide means there’s no one to push you when you’re tired, or to make decisions when your judgment is clouded by fatigue. Long hours, technical climbing, and the constant risk of falling rocks or changing weather require not only peak fitness but also mental toughness.
Without these skills, attempting the Matterhorn without a Guide could quickly become life-threatening. Master them, and you'll be well-equipped to face the challenge head-on.
Climbing the Matterhorn with a professional Mountain Guide offers far more than just someone leading the way. It’s about comprehensive support, safety, and maximizing your chances of a successful and enjoyable summit. Here’s a detailed breakdown of what a Matterhorn guide provides:
A Mountain Guide brings invaluable expertise in navigating the Hörnli Ridge or other routes. The Matterhorn’s terrain is intricate and technical, with sections that require precise route-finding. Guides have summited this mountain countless times, which means they know the fastest and safest paths to take. They also know the dangerous spots to avoid and can quickly adapt to any unexpected obstacles along the way, such as loose rocks or tricky sections of mixed terrain.
A key responsibility of a Guide is constantly assessing safety conditions. The Matterhorn is notorious for its falling rocks, changing weather, and technical climbing sections. A Guide is trained to evaluate all these factors in real time, making adjustments to the route or even turning back if necessary. This type of risk management is critical on a mountain like the Matterhorn, where conditions can change rapidly. They also help manage the physical strain of the climb, recognizing signs of fatigue, altitude sickness, or dehydration before they become serious issues.
On the Matterhorn, you’ll be roped in with your Guide, who will manage all the technical aspects of the climb. This includes belaying, setting protection points, and ensuring your equipment - crampons, ropes, harnesses - are used correctly and efficiently. Guides are also experts in rope techniques for both ascent and descent, making it easier and safer to navigate technical sections of the route, especially when fatigue sets in during the later stages of the climb.
Guides have extensive knowledge of local weather patterns and conditions specific to the Matterhorn. They know how to interpret changes in the weather that might not be obvious to less experienced climbers. This can make a significant difference, as the Matterhorn is notorious for sudden storms and rapid temperature changes. A Guide’s local expertise ensures that you’re always climbing under the best possible conditions and that crucial decisions about the ascent or descent are based on real-time assessments.
From booking mountain huts to obtaining climbing permits, a Matterhorn Guide handles all the logistical elements of the trip. These details can be overwhelming for someone unfamiliar with the area, and mistakes could potentially derail your climb. Guides ensure that everything from accommodation to timing is meticulously planned, so you can focus on the physical and mental demands of the climb without the added stress of managing the trip’s logistical complexities.
Climbing the Matterhorn is physically demanding, but it’s often the mental challenges that trip people up. A Guide offers reassurance, motivation, and calm leadership during high-stress moments. Whether it’s encouraging you through difficult sections or maintaining a steady pace that ensures you conserve energy, having an experienced Guide by your side can make the difference between success and failure.
Guides don’t just lead - they teach. Along the climb, they provide insights and instruction on how to improve your climbing techniques, from efficient rope management to better scrambling skills. This knowledge not only helps you during the current climb but also builds your skill set for future mountaineering adventures.
In the unlikely event that something goes wrong, a Guide is your first line of defense. They are trained in mountain rescue and first aid, equipped to handle a range of potential emergencies such as injuries, sudden illnesses, or severe altitude sickness. This can be life-saving in an environment as unforgiving as the Matterhorn.
Ultimately, a Mountain Guide offers more than just an escort to the summit. They provide peace of mind, allowing you to focus on the experience and challenge of the climb while knowing that every detail, from safety to logistics, is expertly managed. It’s an investment in making your Matterhorn adventure both successful and memorable.
Climbing the Matterhorn is a monumental challenge, and whether you choose to hire a Guide or go without, it requires careful preparation, skill, and a deep respect for the mountain.
While some seasoned climbers may opt to take on the ascent alone, most will find that a professional Mountain Guide enhances safety, boosts confidence, and significantly increases the chance of a successful summit.
Ultimately, your decision should be based on your experience level, physical fitness, and willingness to tackle the unexpected challenges the Matterhorn will throw your way.
For those who value security, efficiency, and expert navigation, a Guide is an invaluable resource. For others, the appeal of a solo climb lies in the self-reliance and personal triumph of conquering one of the world’s most iconic peaks on their own terms.
Whichever path you choose, the Matterhorn offers an experience that will test your limits, reward your efforts, and leave you with memories that will last a lifetime.

Ready to take on the challenge of the Matterhorn? Now’s the time to decide how you want to reach the top. If you’re thinking of hiring a professional Mountain Guide, look no further. Check out our comprehensive 6-day course (we also have a 4-day program if you have less time), where we’ll prepare you for the climb with our team of highly experienced guides.
Don’t just take our word for it - explore the testimonials from past climbers who have successfully summited the Matterhorn with us by their side!

Do You Really Need a Guide To Climb The Matterhorn?


It's dark on the glacier.
I finish fastening my crampons, and the title of Hermann Buhl's book comes to mind—the epic ascent of Nanga Parbat, the "naked mountain," because its walls are so steep that not even snow can hold.

Three in the morning, Obere Plattje at 3,277 meters, right where the Monte Rosa Glacier begins.
Fil and I left the comfortable Monterosa Hut about forty minutes ago. We can't see it anymore, hidden behind the rocky shoulder we just crossed. Below, the flickering glow of the headlamps of the few roped parties that followed us on the route appears and disappears in rhythm with their steps.
I raise my eyes to the night, and the light from my headlamp gently dissolves into nothingness, having nothing left to reflect against.
It's a moonless night, with an infinity of stars above us. There are so many that the main constellations can no longer be distinguished.
I smile at the thought of the effort humans have made over time to organize that primordial chaos into forms of fantasy, the limited vision of the sky as a collection of constellations. Much more beautiful like this tonight—so many stars that no one would dare try to impose order.
The rope between me and Fil is long, with a couple of knots in the middle, as we approach this highly crevassed section of the glacier, searching for the best path through.
Given the distance between us, the beams of our headlamps cut through the darkness separately. I try my best to help by illuminating where it might be most useful… but the problem is, where to look? Where to go?
Left, then right, then left again. We move forward, stop, turn back, walking along small ridges between open crevasses, crossing a few snow bridges. Despite last night’s scouting and our conversation with the hut manager, studying the photos of the route, the trail is just invisible in this darkness, and Fil has his hands full.
We try again, turning back and attempting the right side once more.
Below, two headlamps are approaching, moving towards us. They’ve watched us zigzagging through the darkness, searching for a path that doesn’t exist, and are following us.
Fil senses the right way through—great! Now I can see the footsteps in the snow too, we’re headed in the right direction. I mark a waypoint on the GPS, in case we need it for the return.
Finally, free of this ice maze, we speed upward, where the sky is starless, blocked by the black silhouette of Nordend on the left and Dufour on the right.
In between, a few stars dip low into our field of view—it’s the Silbersattel at 4,517 meters, the “Silver Saddle.”
Nice name, a bit magical, just like the one on Nanga Parbat, described by Buhl.
And it’s still dark on the glacier.
Far to the right of the Monte Rosa Glacier, the trail has brought us below the Sattel at an altitude of 4,359 meters, and it’s now clear that we’re on the route for the West Ridge of Dufour.
The Dufour. In the end, it’s drawn us in, like a magnet.
We could still rejoin the path to Nordend, but at this point, Fil suggests the possibility of directly attempting Monte Rosa’s highest peak, 4,632 meters.
We know the conditions of the route and the weather are perfect, but this time, I feel I’m not acclimatized enough. Once above 4,000 meters, I struggle with the ascent. "Fil, I’m not sure. For Dufour via the ridge, I need to be at my best… maybe it’s better to turn back and head towards Nordend, or traverse to rejoin the path higher up…" “Come on, Andre, you can do it! How many times have we done this? Trust me… I know you. Trust me.”
As I listen to Fil, leaning slightly on my ice axe, I want to overcome this hesitation, to push a limit, the confidence level my mind has set for Dufour, a certain physical condition, which I now feel I don’t have.
Or maybe I’m afraid I don’t, I don’t even know anymore.
Almost without realizing it, we start again… the first steps feel like a leap of faith. Then the slope steepens, and I dig the front points of my crampons firmly into the ice, while Fil shortens the rope between us.
And off we go again, one step after another. Slowly, but we’re moving again.
Just above the Sattel, the ridge rises, at first snowy and increasingly steep, then turning rocky at an elevation of around 4,500 meters, where we have to scramble over broken rocks.
We continue along the ridge, navigating snow and mixed terrain, until we reach the fore-summit. Here, the ridge narrows again, becoming rocky with blocks and ledges.
After climbing a steep II° rock step on the left, along a faint gully that leads to a notch, we face the final vertical rock wall. To overcome it, we’ll have to climb a chimney—also rated II°—again to the left of the ridge line.
Fil goes ahead, climbing the chimney. It’s a balancing act, and I watch him move gracefully on the front points of his crampons.
Then it’s my turn. Fil belays me from above. I free the rope from the carabiner three-quarters of the way up the chimney, retrieve the quickdraw, and make my way out successfully.
My feet land on the summit rock next to Fil, with earth and sky meeting all around us.
Lying in my comfortable bunk at the Monterosa Hut, it's 3:00 p.m., and I think that exactly twelve hours ago, we were fastening our crampons under the stars.
Now, I hope to get some sleep. Climbing so high, only to return from where we came.
It’s not about accomplishing something; it’s not about telling the story of having done it, because in reality, the mountain only matters to those who wish it to.
It’s about wanting to experience it for yourself, to feel it firsthand, because certain sensations can’t be transmitted or inherited from someone else’s experience; they can only be lived.
I think back to the summit, which defines the mountain in our eyes, and toward which we are naturally drawn. But it’s on the mountain’s slopes, on its paths at first, then climbing the moraines, the glacier, the rock, and the ridge, where our ascent truly unfolds.
On the summit, in those brief moments, I’m not sure if the predominant feeling is satisfaction or the pragmatic awareness that you’re only halfway through the journey and now have to make your way back down.
It’s a mixed sensation of deep respect and, at the same time, a desire to merge with the space that surrounds us, to dominate the void from above, perhaps in an attempt to exorcize it.
I’m glad I got through that crisis, and grateful to Fil for helping me overcome it.
We reached the summit in six hours, considering we spent at least half an hour wandering through the crevasses searching for the route. We did more than well.
I watch Dent Blanche filling the horizon, framed by the light wood of the window. Then I collapse into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Outside the Monte Rosa Hut, at dusk, the refuge looks like a brightly lit spaceship, traversed by the luminous staircase spiraling upwards behind the glass.
"Stairway to Heaven," wow, if only I had my acoustic Gibson here—the intro arpeggio would sound just right.
On the terrace, a mountaineer fills his thermos with hot tea and then pauses, gazing at Dufour.
He’ll climb it tomorrow—you can tell by the way he looks at it. I see myself in him—I was him yesterday.
A girl taps on her phone, her black hair tied back in a ponytail. She smiles at me, we greet each other, and her eyes are dark and deep, contrasting with the bright openness of her smile.
It’s not very warm, but she insists on sitting barefoot on that rock. Now she, too, is silent—her fingers no longer motivated to dance swiftly across the keyboard. Tomorrow, she’ll descend to the valley, her destination materializing in the western profile of the Breithorn and the Matterhorn.
I forget about the Gibson I don’t have, and suddenly I’m once again immersed in this silence. I feel it—it’s mine.
From the outside, it seems the same, but it’s different from everyone else’s—from the mountaineer’s, from the girl’s.
I think every person is also a silence. Each of us, as we grow, learns to live with our own, each with the silence that defines us.
Dufour is illuminated by the sunset. You can clearly see the route, the Sattel, the fore-summit, and the jagged ridge that looks like a staircase reaching for the first evening stars in the sky.
The wind is blowing cold now, and the girl stands up and quickly returns to the hut.
“There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold. And she’s buying a stairway to heaven.”
This morning, in the first rays of sunlight, everything sparkled—the ice crystals in the snow, the tip of the ice axe tucked under the strap of my backpack, the fragments of rock beside the summit cross.
So many little glimmers where, for a moment, I found refuge, before lifting my gaze again to face that horizon, so extraordinarily vast and open.
by Andrea

Dufourspitze - Long rope


"Alright, OK Andre?"
Filippo has just shortened the rope between us. I wrap it a couple of times over my shoulder and then check the closure of the carabiner in the loop.
There’s now about fifty centimeters between us, more or less. This way, we can run across without being dangerously far apart. I touch the helmet strap under my chin and then look up... more rocks... look how many are falling, thank goodness they’re small... otherwise we would have heard someone from above shouting "rock" or whatever else in any language, but we’d know what it meant. The important thing is to be loud enough for those below to hear.
Mont Blanc, French side, the normal route via Aiguille du Goûter. Finally, here we are at the entrance of the Grand Couloir, the gully infamous for the constant danger of being hit by stones dislodged by climbers ascending and descending its edges or by natural landslides triggered by the retreating ice that once covered its base, holding the stones in place.
I glance at the steel safety cable, so far above us and so useless... maybe at the start of the season, with the gully fully snow-covered, but today it’s of no use at all.
“Andre?” I take a breath.
“OK Fil, go.”
We set off, twenty, maybe twenty-five meters running with crampons on, sometimes on ice, sometimes on rocks and dirt, ears straining to hear any sound from above. I run, almost holding my breath, trying to glance uphill now and then. If something big comes down, we need to move together, either speeding up or slowing down, but together, because we’re roped in so close... We’re almost out... I feel dirt falling and small rocks grazing my legs, hoping nothing bigger follows.
We reach the rocky shoulder. I look up and see the near-vertical face of the Aiguille du Goûter that now awaits us. I can make out the colorful helmets of other roped parties winding their way up the route.
Up there, still so impossibly small, I see the glimmer of the roof of the refuge.

“Well done, Fede. See, this is us, where the little cairn is, and this dotted line shows the whole path we’ve taken…”
“Like Hansel and Gretel? Look, Dad, we left behind our little stones so we can find our way back if we get lost…”
I glance at the display of my GPS. The function is called trackback, and indeed, it’s thanks to storing the position of those “electronic pebbles” that the GPS can guide you home. How many times, during your solo climbs, have you used it to get out of trouble, right Andrea? Federica is not yet six years old, and she looks up at me, curious and eager for an answer, just as kids that age do.
“Yes, Fede, just like Hansel and Gretel.”
“And so, Dad, this is my mountain!”
In reality, we’re on a grassy mound, barely 2,000 meters high, but the small rise—due to its isolation—stands clearly marked on the map, though without a name.
I add a new waypoint on the GPS, marking our location. “Federica’s Peak, do you like it, Fede? We’ll call it that, OK?”
“That’s awesome! And we’ll come back here thanks to your little computer, Dad.”
GPS = “little computer that helps you do what Hansel and Gretel did.” Well, I’d say she’s got the gist of it. Federica sits down, happily sipping her juice.
“Dad, can I come with you to Mont Blanc?”
Mont Blanc?! What does Mont Blanc have to do with this now? Maybe I’ve been talking about it too much at home lately.
“Fede, I’m not sure I’ll ever climb Mont Blanc. It’s a very tall mountain, and you need a lot of luck to reach the top. And anyway, you’re still too little. To climb that high, you’ll need to wait until you’re a bit older… Plus, isn’t this peak where we are now beautiful? Aren’t you happy to be here with me?”
“How much older? I’m already big!”
“Well, I read in the Alpine Club magazine that it’s better to be at least 14…”
Now, she’s looking down… I bet she’s counting how many years she has left…
“Hey Fede, what are you thinking about…? You’re not upset, are you?”
“No, Dad. I was just looking at this little flower. Look how beautiful it is.”

Now it’s my turn to be careful not to dislodge any rocks.
There are people below getting ready to cross the Couloir, so I need to be very cautious and focused. No missteps, I have to move slowly and smoothly, watching carefully where I place my feet. Getting hit by a rock on the head isn’t pleasant, but being the one responsible for sending a rock down on someone else’s head isn’t exactly exciting either.
“Careful, Andre, not so abrupt. Move more steadily, or you’ll wear yourself out too much.”
And just like that, a nice cramp hits me right in the thigh. “Hold on, Fil, my legs feel like two boulders.”
The ascent is steep, but fortunately, conditions have been ideal so far—no ice, and the footholds are excellent. Three weeks ago, on the normal route of the Dom de Mischabel, I saw much worse. I remember that third-grade climbing section, and then that traverse across the void...
“OK, Fil, let’s go.”
Here we go, now the fixed ropes start. I know this route by heart from reading and rereading the descriptions hundreds of times. But wow, from here, it’s really “upright”... I glance at the roof of the refuge, we’re right underneath it now... A quick look at the altimeter, we’re just above 3,700 meters, only 100 more meters of wall, and we’ll be there.
I brush my hand along the steel cable. The route is well-equipped, especially on this final steep section. Better not look down. I wonder how it will be to descend tomorrow.
Filippo calls out, “All good, Andre?”
How does he do it? As soon as I hesitate, he notices right away, even though he’s ahead of me without even looking, just sensing a slight tension in the rope connecting us, caused by a delayed movement on my part.
I enjoy climbing with Filippo, I like this sense of teamwork.
“All good, Fil.”
The last twenty meters. Now there’s ice too, but we can’t put on crampons here. I pull myself up with my arms, and I’m on the terrace of the Gouter Refuge, at 3,817 meters. From here to the summit, “only” 1,000 meters of ascent remain.

“Look, Daddy, I made a drawing for you.”
The A4 sheet slips from her little hands into mine. The drawing is carefully colored with markers, and there’s even a kind of dedication written in uppercase letters: “Daddy Andrea. Federica.”
“That’s beautiful, Fede. You made it just for me?”
“Yes, Daddy. This is me, and this one holding my hand is you.”
“Wow, Fede, it’s amazing. And what a lovely mountain you’ve drawn. I can see we’re climbing it together.”
“See the snow, Daddy? That’s Mont Blanc. Since you say I’m too small to go with you, if you take this drawing to the summit, it’s like I made it too, right? There’s a lot of snow on Mont Blanc, isn’t there, Daddy? That’s why it’s called that, right?”
“Yes, Fede, there’s lots of snow up there. It’s amazing snow, it never melts. It’s glacier snow, meaning eternal snow.”
Satisfied with my answer, I watch her skip back to her room. I roll up the drawing and tie it with a small red ribbon. This way, it won’t get damaged in my backpack on that day.
“Good morning. We start the news by announcing that this morning, around 3:15 AM, a serac detached from the shoulder of Mont Blanc du Tacul, on one of the normal climbing routes on the French side of Mont Blanc. The detachment triggered an avalanche with a front of about 200 meters, which swept over the climbing parties passing through at that time. Eight climbers are missing, including two mountain guides.”
I’m still in my pajamas, holding Leonardo, who I’ve just finished feeding his bottle. I quickly turn off the TV before Fiore can hear. Leo giggles happily with his full belly, so I put him down to let him kick around, and I sit down.
My God, I was supposed to be there! At that time, in that place! Only a last-minute doubt about the weather made us postpone the climb to Tuesday, opting for the Gouter route instead of the Cosmiques.
The avalanche likely hit the first parties that had left the refuge. At that hour, those already below the Tacul shoulder are the ones headed straight for the summit—light and fast climbing parties, of well-trained people.
We would have been caught right in the middle of it. I can picture them waking up in the refuge... I know that atmosphere, the way you move in those cramped spaces, lit only by headlamps. The breakfast, the harnesses, the crampons, and off you go, hopefully under a sky full of stars.
They would’ve been walking for maybe an hour or so... I don’t think they heard much noise. They probably only had time to feel the cold gust of air displaced by the avalanche. A sea of snow and ice. Then, only silence.
I call Fil, who doesn’t know yet because he’s climbing in Gressoney.
“Andre, does your wife know?”
“No, I need to find the right moment... to explain to her... that we’re climbing from the Gouter and that there are no seracs there, that the objective dangers are fewer... I hope she’ll understand.”
The problem is, in the coming days, a flood of people will redirect to the Gouter route because the Cosmiques route will surely remain closed for some time, due to the rescue operations and the continued risk of more seracs collapsing.
Fil and I will have to be incredibly fast.
We’ll need to climb the Couloir early in the morning when it’s still in the shade. And especially the next day, after reaching the summit, we need to be out of the Couloir before everyone else and before the sun warms the ground too much, increasing the risk of rockfall.

“Fiore, when did you find out?”
“Today, from the radio. I didn’t say anything because you hadn’t brought it up yet.”
“Look, Fiore, everything’s under control. Fil and I never take risks, you know that, right?”
I see her manage a smile. She doesn’t want to be the one to force me not to go. I get up from the table, go to the bedroom, and grab Federica’s drawing of the two of us climbing a mountain together. It’s still rolled up, with the same red ribbon.
I don’t even unroll it, and I slip it just as it is into the top pocket of my backpack, so it doesn’t get crushed under the weight of the harness, crampons, helmet, and all the other gear.
I go back to her; she’s putting Fede and Leo to bed. She knows I’ve already made up my mind, and we don’t talk about it anymore. She also knows how much it means to me, and in the end, she understands a little. After all, we met in the mountains twenty years ago.
I feel immense gratitude for her smile. So quiet, so sweet.
“OK, Andre?” The weather conditions are perfect. We’ve just strapped ourselves into our harnesses outside the hut, with a sky full of stars, pulsing against the glowing backdrop of the Milky Way. “OK, Fil.”
We’re among the first to set off. Behind us, a string of headlamps lights up the other roped parties ascending in the night, and further below, the lights of Chamonix. The crampons bite into the ice. We’re moving fast, our pace steady, perfected through several acclimatization climbs.
We steadily gain elevation until our first stop at Col du Gouter, at 4,240 meters. Then we push forward, still under the light of our headlamps, to Vallot Hut, an emergency shelter at 4,362 meters. This is usually where people start to falter, struggling with the altitude and the sheer amount of elevation still left to climb.
Indeed, nearly 500 meters remain before the summit, which we can now just make out in the darkness of the night. I can clearly see the climbing route ahead, up the Bosses Ridge, first passing Grande Bosse at 4,513 meters, then Petite Bosse at 4,547 meters, skirting around the Eperon de la Tournette at 4,677 meters, before tackling the narrow and airy final ridge, leading all the way to the summit.

I catch a glimpse of the vastness of the glacier towards the Aiguille du Midi. I'm climbing Mont Blanc, my 27th 4,000-meter peak, and yet this immense expanse still manages to leave me speechless. This mountain is unique—it overwhelms you with its sheer proportions, makes you feel like nothing, makes you feel infinitely small.
We set off again, maintaining the same steady rhythm, one step after another. Meanwhile, to the east, a beautiful red glow heralds the approaching dawn. We pass the Bosses and the Tournette Rock. At 4,700 meters, I pause for a moment to check the altitude—higher than I’ve ever climbed before.
We turn off our headlamps; we no longer need them.
Another 100 meters, the last stretch. Our pace slows now, the lack of oxygen starting to take its toll, though fortunately, thanks to our training and acclimatization, I don’t feel any altitude sickness.
I realize I’m counting the steps that separate me from the summit. Roughly a hundred to go. I walk and count, count and walk, my eyes fixed on Filippo’s boots ahead of me, matching my steps to his.
99, 100, 101 steps… still a bit more to climb. We’re on the final ridge now, beautifully exposed though never truly difficult. To the right, the Italian side drops down towards Courmayeur; to the left, the French side descends towards Chamonix.
But… even the summit itself is surprisingly narrow. I expected more of a dome from the photos I’d seen, but it’s actually quite a sharp ridge. Then again, I remember reading that the summit of Mont Blanc changes shape depending on the year.
Even its height varies; it’s now back to being 4,810 meters after sitting at 4,807 meters for a few years. 150, 151, 152 steps…
Filippo stops. There’s nothing more to climb.

Filippo turns toward me. We hug. “Amazing, Andre... I’m happy... this is the greatest joy for a guide.”
“Amazing, Fil!”
I feel an indescribable joy; all the peaks I can see are lower than us, even those of the highest 4,000-meter summits I’ve already climbed—like the Dom in the Mischabel range and the Gnifetti and Zumstein peaks in the Monte Rosa, all above 4,500 meters.
Then I see Mont Blanc’s shadow stretching over France as the sun rises behind the Matterhorn.
An absolute silence, the same silence I felt at 3:00 a.m. when we set off from the Gouter refuge. I open my backpack and take out Federica’s drawing.
That’s when Filippo snaps a picture of me.
I’ve been here, I’ve been here with Fil. Now we have to descend. I turn for one last look at the summit. I can still make out our footprints in the ice. Then a slight gust of wind lifts some powder snow. And covers them.

by Andrea Olivotto

Altitude 4810