The Haute Route

There’d been a few challenges on the Haute Route so far; but as I looked up (and it’s very far up) at the Moiry Glacier, I thought this challenge might be the end of me. The mountain hut we were climbing to was so distant I could barely make it out; then my eyes dragged themselves back to the steep route. Craggy rocks, scree ready to shoot my feet from under me, patches of snow. In August. Snow in August. I’m from Britain. It barely snows here anyway, and when it does it’s not like we all rush out skipping up hills.
But if I made it to the hut, I’d be somewhere, looking at something, totally new. Plus there was a beer there; it sealed the deal.
Off we went, the climb gruelling. You have to hug the side of the mountain, the path often becoming about the width of a beam and scrabbly. Thankfully, some ropes helped on the most treacherous parts. Fresh patches of snow began to appear. That beer at the top seemed very far away.
But we pushed on. The great thing about travelling with others is the way when one of you is flagging, the other energises you both. When one of you gets scared, the other keeps you strong. And when one of you stops and whimpers ‘I can’t do it!’ the other says ‘Well, it’s easier now to keep going. Look behind you.’ Then as you yelp at how far up you are, you get a small-but-not-entirely-gentle shove in the back and you just. Keep. Going.
So I did. And then we rounded a corner and the hut was almost in front of us. I could hear the voices of people already there, and that spurred me on. Staggering over the last few rocks, we saw the Swiss Alpine Club flag fluttering against the brightness of the blue sky. Gratefully I headed to the bar.
This is where the Moiry Hut becomes WOW. Floor to ceiling windows take up a whole wall and outside the window, the most spectacular view I’ve ever seen. The Moiry Glacier, truly breathtaking. The sheer size was just amazing.
Outside on the balcony you can actually feel the freezing air flowing over the ice. As we sat there, what struck me was the quiet. Occasionally huge cracks cut through the silence and echoed around the open space, snow and ice falling from an overhang and crashing down. The only other sound was the intermittent groan of the glacier as it heaved its way down the hillside, slower than imperceptibly, on its journey down. As I emptied my glass, I reflected on the other places I’d sat and drunk a beer. This had to be the one to top them all.