As unmistakably Swiss as Toblerone, the colossal, glistening Matterhorn loomed over the village of Zermatt at sunrise on our very last morning in town, emerging at last after two days of vanishing into dense clouds.
Here I was standing at Zermatt’s unofficial but well-known viewing platform (GPS Coordinate: N 46°1'32.0664" E 7°45'21.8556", see map), beside a family of three arriving the night prior and blessed with the good fortune of waking up to one of nature’s grand spectacles. As they blissfully discussed plans of riding the Gornergratbahn to the plateau for an even better view, I had to restrain myself from tempering their enthusiasm.
We made that same plan ourselves on the day we arrived, and did not see the Matterhorn for the next 44 hours.
Apart from that glorious morning, THIS was our view of the Matterhorn for our entire stay in case you’re wondering about my cynicism, or at least pragmatism. And this was in the month of September when the climate is statistically sunniest.
As is the case for two million annual visitors to Zermatt, the Matterhorn was our sole reason for dedicating two nights to this far-flung village in our 16-day Grand Circle of Switzerland. Years of living in Western Canada has taught us the unpredictability of mountain weather, and we even shifted our itinerary, mid-journey, according to the forecast in hope of maximizing our chance of seeing this iconic Swiss symbol.
Rather than arriving in the late afternoon according to our original plan, we squeezed a half-day out of our itinerary to arrive by lunchtime at stylish Zermatt, Switzerland’s quintessential winter resort with its streets full of Mammut expedition gear and Tag-Heuer watches, and a complete ban on combustion engines since the early 2010s -- a world-wide first among winter resorts -- to safeguard its crisp mountain air.
Dropping off our heavy backpacks at the rental apartment, we quickly picked up our picnic supplies of prosciutto and salad from the neighbourhood Migros before hopping onto the 120-year-old Gornergratbahn, a 45 minute ride up a steep cogwheel rail to the highest open-air train station in Europe at 3100 m. At CHF 100 (CAD$140) for two even at the half-price offered to Swiss Travel Pass holders, this wasn’t a cheap bet.
Our hopes were high. Our fair-weather plan was to alight at Rotenboden and hike at minimal effort to nearby Riffelsee for a picture-perfect reflection of the Matterhorn on a glassy alpine lake. But as our train made its way towards Rotenboden through a minor hailstorm, we just knew this wasn’t our day.
On a good day this observatory would present a fantastic panorama of a dozen 4000m peaks. On this day it was nothing but clouds and the occasional dusting of snow.
And this was forecasted to be our only partially-sunny day in town, as the weather was predicted to take a turn for the worse on our second day.
We didn’t give up. After more than an hour of stubborn wait in the freezing cold, we retreated to the warmth of Kulmhotel for a light meal of gulasch before venturing out for another hour. The fog cleared enough for an unobstructed view of the Gorner Glacier towards the ancient trade route of Theodul Pass, but the Matterhorn remained elusive.
That’s okay. We still had hope for the next day, no matter how daunting the weather forecast seemed.
It was nearly sunset when we made it back to our apartment, a sizeable bachelor suite with a spacious dining area and a full kitchen equipped with a dish washer and an oven to warm up our bread and rotisserie chicken. We found Haus Theodul highly recommendable for its amenities -- laundry, ski room and all -- at a reasonable price, within a 5 minute walk from the train station.
Our usual Migros supermarket dinner of shrimp appetizer and green salad was complemented on this day by a rotisserie chicken from the immensely popular Wilde Hilde (see map), a little barbecue joint that has reached near-legendary status among international tourists. At CHF 17 a chicken I would have preferred Migros’ version at two-thirds the price, especially since anything would have tasted amazing while I slowly savoured a half-bottle of Italian Amarone picked up at the wine store across Migros. And don’t even tell me that Amarone doesn’t go with white meat.
Day two. Despite pessimistic forecasts from Meteo Swiss, we had little choice but to maximize our chances with one more trip up the mountain on our second and final day in town. We have learned how much colder the mountaintop was compared with a relatively mild 10 degrees at the village, and we purposely stuffed ourselves with the local protein-and-fat diet of Walliser Trockenspeck, Trockenfleisch and Rohschinken, plus a grilled wurst, cheese and yogurt for a heavy breakfast.
On our way to the cable car station we walked by the Kirchbrücke, well-known locally for its unobstructed view of the Matterhorn on sunnier days, with no luck on this rainy morning. But Meteo Swiss did forecast a slightly clearer afternoon, and upon this hope we forked over another CHF 100 for two half-price tickets for Klein Matterhorn, a.k.a. Matterhorn Glacier Paradise.
Our original sunny day plan was to take a different cable car to Sunegga and Blauherd for the Five Lakes Hike, apparently a hiker’s dream with reflections of the Matterhorn upon five alpine lakes over a 10 km route. But the Five Lakes were farther away from the Matterhorn and subject to more obstructions on a cloudy day, and we opted for the closer Klein Matterhorn at 3883m, the highest cable car station in Europe.
The scenery was breathtaking even through the fog as our gondola flew above the 3500m Breithorn plateau and its mighty glaciers, perpetually grinding down the cliff faces in the same process that has chiselled the Matterhorn into the awe-inspiring pyramid that has fascinated generations of mountaineers.
Still the weather didn’t cooperate.
Despite hours of enduring -7 degrees plus wind chill at the viewing platform, sustained by interludes of hot chocolates and short warming sessions at the restaurant and shop, we caught not even a momentary peek of the Matterhorn, said to be looming invisibly behind these thick clouds. For two straight days we gave our best effort, and failed.
Our best view of the day actually came as we made our descent on the last gondola, when the Matterhorn’s steep northwestern ridge vaguely emerged behind these clouds, teasing us with just a small fraction of its full glory. It was a small consolation for two days of efforts -- not to mention CHF 200 of tickets on top of two nights of lodging in expensive Zermatt -- for one partial glimpse of arguably the world’s most recognizable peak, less than 10 km from the village yet feeling like a world away.
For the rest of the day we slowed down and toured the historic village like any first time visitor, now fully accepting our defeat. We would not get a third chance as our morning train connections for Lake Geneva was scheduled to depart at 08:37 at the latest.
Having spent a small fortune on tickets it was nice to take advantage of our Swiss Travel Pass’ complimentary entry to the Matterhorn Museum, a recreated 19th century village narrating Zermatt’s dramatic rise from an impoverished rural settlement into a world-famous luxury resort due largely to the Matterhorn and the associated mountaineering and winter tourism. Among the highlights is the broken rope from the tragic first ascent that killed four of the seven mountaineers, forerunners to the dozen or so climbers who sadly perish on the Matterhorn’s slopes every year.
After a couple days of supermarket dinner and picnics we reckoned to have earned the rights to one sit-down dinner. In a town where moderately-priced options were few and most exhibited the usual tourist trap warnings of multi-lingual menus, we took a chance on the 120-year-old Du Pont, rumoured to the be the oldest restaurant in Zermatt as well as one of the cheaper.
To be honest everything was better than expected starting with a classic fondue infused with flecks of wild porcini and an intoxicating amount of wine, though I probably should have had more confidence in this century-old institution’s ability to nail its signature dishes.
My wife was satisfied also with her traditional combo of bratwurst and rösti. That night we went to bed early after two emotionally exhausting days, though at the back of my mind we knew we’re still praying for a miracle.
The next morning I woke up at 06:15 and stepped out onto the balcony. The first thing I noticed was a starry sky, through the crisp mountain air without a cloud in sight. The second was a bulbous white object sticking out behind the local hill.
I had a really good feeling about this.
As quickly as I could I put on the windbreaker, grabbed the camera and ran up the hill opposite the Gornegratbahn terminal.
I was breathless. And my uphill run at high altitude wasn’t the only reason.
Now I could leave Zermatt with no regrets.
After breakfast my wife joined me at the Getwingbrücke for our most memorable moment of the entire journey. Nobody but God himself, or probability theory if you’re not religious, decides when the Matterhorn makes her appearance. And God was on our side.
Ominous clouds started rolling in again as we hopped on the 08:37 train back to Visp, now leaving the erratic mountain weather for the Lavaux vineyards in sunny lake country. For readers looking for tips on maximizing the chance of seeing the Matterhorn, my brutally honest advice would be ... keep your plans flexible.
