Day 3 - Heidi

Waking ahead of my 5:30 am alarm, I decide to get up early in order to take my time getting ready and organised. Paul had commented yesterday that we had "taken a wee bit too long to get ready," so I wanted to make sure I was ready in good time. With the stealth and silence of a ninja, I crept out of bed and slid silently down from the top bunk. However, my phone decided it had other ideas, and proceeded to launch itself off from the bed, clattering down onto the wooden floor with a quite incredible racket, just as I appeared into full view of the others...who promptly woke up and glared / tutted at me. Muttering an apology, I hurried off to the showers.. what would be our last shower for 6 days. 

After a spectacular breakfast of freshly baked bread and a huge selection of different meats, we headed off back up into the mountains, following the path into the warm sunrise. As we left, we heard a tremendous boom like thunder behind us, and looked round to see an avalanche of rocks tumbling down the mountain. It wasn't a big avalanche, but it was a stark reminder of how volatile the mountains can be.

Walking into the warm sunrise

Following the path through the valleys

After a pleasant walk through the valleys, we reach a hut that we stop at for a coffee break. This was quite a new hut, and to see such a modern stylish building located so remotely was a surprise. I stay outside in the warm sunshine to admire the amazing view. 

After a while, some of the others emerge from the hut, and excitedly announce that they've sighted a pretty blonde girl working there. She doesn't have pigtails or Lederhosen or Toberlone or a heard of friendly goats, but the suggestion that she is the nearest thing we might find to actual Heidi is an interesting prospect. This starts a discussion on what would be the best ice breaker to get chatting with someone you meet working in a remote mountain hut. I suggest (a little too loudly) "guten tag meine schatz, wie gehts?" (Hello my darling, how are you?)

Suddenly a deep stern voice announces in a heavy German accent: "I vood not say zat if I were you;" somehow we had all missed the guy sweeping behind us. To this day I have no idea whether this was meant as advice, or criticism of my German, or whether the girl was in fact his girlfriend and he was seriously warning me not to say this. Either way, we all had a good laugh about it, at my expense, for a long time after. 

From left to right: Jason, Chrissy, Paul, Ross, Nicola, Me, Ian. 

After our antics at the hut, we trek for a while longer before finding ourselves back on the glacier. This glacier was incredibly steep, easily a 45° angle, and the sight of it is intimidating. However it's dry, meaning there's no snow on it, so walking up this with our crampons feels a little like being spiderman, the traction is amazing. As we can see the holes and crevasses we don't need to rope up; however it's my turn to carry the rope today, meaning the steep climb is extra hard work for me - the rope is surprisingly heavy! 

Trekking down towards the glacier

The glacier was very steep

As we rise higher, the views up the glacier were breathtaking. Before long we're on snow again, meaning we rope back up together. We often hear rumbles like distant thunder around us, as a volley of rocks tumbles down from the mountains somewhere. 

Safety briefing from guide Paul

Working our way up the glacier

The views are unbelievable 

Back on to the snow

Not far from the top now

Finally we spot our hut, the Hollandia Hut, miraculously perched 3235m up a high precipice above the glacier. However, once we draw level to the hut, the intensity of the final hurdle becomes apparent, as we see how incredibly steep this part of the climb is. 

The impressive Hollandia Hut, perched on the edge of the mountain

The view from the top - amazing! You can see the hut sat on the cliff to the right of the photo

Ross happy to have made it to the top

Jason and I happy to have made it to the top of the glacier

The approach to the hut is hair-raising, as the drop to my left is high and steep. But this works in my favor; the adrenaline allows me to surge up the mountain much more easily. 

The terrifyingly steep climb up to the hut 

The first team finally arriving at the hut

That evening over a delicious beef goulash dinner, Paul announces that a storm is forecast for tomorrow. This concerns me, as the idea of being caught out in a lightning storm in the middle of an open glacier sounds dangerous. Paul assures me that it's very rare to be struck by lightning, and that "you have more chance of winning the lottery than being struck." I point out that whilst this statistic is probably generally true, I'm sure the stakes are significantly higher if you're exposed out in the open on a vast expanse of glacier. Paul then decided to further comfort me by casually telling the horrific story of how he once witnessed a girl get struck by lightning in the mountains.

Not a bad view out of the bedroom window

The hut balances precariously on the cliff edge

Panorama taken from outside the hut

Me nervously standing as close as I dare to the edge

That evening, I sit downstairs sharing a beer with the lady who works in the cabin, as I don't feel like sleeping. Chatting by candle light as the dark storm clouds roll in and lightning flashes across the peaks, we sit and share stories about the mountains and places we'd like to visit.

Storm clouds roll in over the mountains

Finally attiring to bed shortly before midnight, Ross asks: "so how'd it go with Heidi then?" It was then that I discovered that the combination of alcohol and thin air had the unexpected effect of causing me to laugh hysterically, harder than I have laughed in years. I laughed until I cried. I laughed until I stopped breathing, and then I couldn't start breathing again because there wasn't very much oxygen because of the high altitude, and I laughed some more and choked until I thought I was going to throw up from coughing so hard and my lungs felt like they were in a vice. 

As a child, having seen the old man in Mary Poppins die laughing, I had decided that this would probably be the best way to go. That night, as I lay choking and still laughing, my theory was reaffirmed; despite my suffering, I was still finding the whole thing hilarious. Finally my breathing returned to normal, and to the others great relief, I shut up and went to sleep. 

Day 2 - View Point

Rising at 6am to catch the snow while it's still frozen, we gather in the dining hall for a breakfast of bread and jam. Everyone is groggy, and we don't speak much. After breakfast, I accidentally fill my bottle up with "Marsh Tea" in the dim light of the cabin, thinking it was water. Marsh tea is a strange rather horrible tasting fruit tea; this mistake caused the water from my bottle to taste of the foul liquid for several days after the trip, no matter how many times I washed it out! To buy bottled water in the huts is very expensive, however they usually give you water that has been melted from snow and boiled for free. 

Getting up at sunrise is tough, but rewarding - the views are amazing! 

We set off with the sun low in the sky, and the near-freezing conditions make the hard snow easy to walk on, plus the cool air is refreshing. We ascend a further 400 metres to the high ridge, which overlooks the glacier we had climbed the previous day. My breathing is much better now, I seem to have acclimatised to the high altitude, although I feel very tired as a result of not sleeping. After a while we reach the summit of the ridge at a height of 3200m, where we are greeted with the most spectacular views. We can see across a lot of the Alps from here, with some famous peaks such as Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn visible in the distance. Suddenly I don't feel tired any more, just incredibly alive and awed by the beauty of nature. This is the furthest away from civilisation I have ever been, and never in my life have I witnessed such spectacular beauty or serenity. There were no power lines or roads or fences or McDonalds up here, nothing to spoil the magic. I really hope they don't discover oil up there or something; you can be sure that if humans found a way to exploit the mountains they'd cover it with roads and buildings and structures and probably blow half of it up just to make a bit of money. 

Climbing in the early morning means the snow is hard, the sun is low and the air is fresh! 

Paul pointing out the various peaks from the high-point of the ridge

Me at the top

Before long we continue on our journey, and start our slow descent back down the ridge. As we are working our way across the Alps, our journey for the next few days involves crossing several mountains and ridges, meaning a lot of ups and downs. Descending feels a little disappointing after all our work climbing up, but it is a necessary evil. Huge sheer drops lie to our right, but we follow confidently in Paul's footsteps and keep clear of the danger.

Starting our descent back down over the ridge

Huge sheer drops lie to our right

After a while we reach a valley that we must cross which shoots steeply down the mountain. This should be a dry valley, but the exceptionally heavy snow fall this winter means water is pouring down the mountain. We nervously pick our way across the top of the waterfall, seeking natural stepping stones where possible and trying hard not to look down. 

At one point we must cross a particularly deep, fast flowing section of the waterfall, which is pouring down the valley and an incredible rate. This really terrified the hell out of me; one slip and that's me  into the water and off down the mountain. There haven't been many times in my life when I wondered if I genuinely might die, but this was definitely one of them, and although I didn't know it yet, the first of several times during the trip where I honestly feared for my life. With my heart pounding, Paul urges me on, and I take a leap of faith and made the jump. Relief flooded over me as I reached the other side, and I was delighted (and a little surprised) that the group was still intact. 

Safely off the waterfall, and on to our rocky descent off the mountain

We work our way steeply back down the mountain from here, until finally arriving at our destination at Fafleralp. This was a hut village if you will, a collection of small huts that orbit around one big mothership hut. Once again we had a short walk down a rough path to our hut - it was becoming clear that you never just arrive at the cabin, there's always a final hurdle or challenge. 

At the bottom; we have just descended the steep slope seen behind us. 

Back down in the greenery of the valley

That evening we enjoy a well deserved beer in the warm evening sun, and discuss our previous mountaineering adventures. I'm impressed by the experience of my peers, and hope to follow in their footsteps someday. I start to wonder if I'll ever have a beach holiday again; nothing can compare with the intense satisfaction of sipping a cool beer in the sun after a hard day climbing through some of the world's most spectacular scenery. 

The guide and some of the others retire to bed about 9pm. This is 8pm UK time, and there's no way I was going to get to sleep so early. Ross and I stay up till nearly 11:00pm, and joke that we feel like "naughty school boys" for not going to bed. We wondered how cross Paul would be if we staggered in drunk at 3 in the morning, although concluded that he probably wouldn't care, and we'd have to suffer the consequences of trekking hungover at 6am the next day. We concluded this was a bad idea, and promptly retired to bed.

Day 1: Joe Goes Up

Starting off fairly early from our departure point in Kandestag, we set out on a good and enjoyable pace through the valley. The scenery around us is absolutely breath-taking, as we pick our way through lush green trees surrounded by towering mountains. This was very exciting for me; I'd never walked amongst such high mountains before and it felt quite humbling. Seeing the huge snow-tipped peaks around us that we would be climbing in the next few days was a little intimidating, but inspirational also. We rise gently but increasingly up and out of the valleys, and before long we’re at the point where trees no longer grow due to the thin air.

Starting out from the picturesque village of Kandestag

Trekking up through the valleys

After a while we pass some fellow trekkers, who tell us to take care on the scree slope ahead, as large boulders had been falling down that morning. A scree slope is basically a slope covered in loose rocks and boulders, which have a tendency to roll themselves down the mountain. When we arrive at the slope, our guide Paul points out the snow at the top of the towering scree slope, and explains why this is so dangerous. As the snow heats up and melts throughout the day, sections of it break away and slide down the mountain, bringing rocks and boulders with it. Most of these rocks range in size from a football to a 32” TV (the old kind, not the flatscreens!), although many are the size of cars. Some are the size of caravans, and we see one that is literately the size of a two story house! Paul tells us these are not long down from the mountain, and advises that this would be a “very bad place to stop and take a picnic” (people do!!) We must cross the scree slope as quickly as possible, and we’re casually told to keep an eye out for avalanches.

“But what do we do if we see an avalanche?” someone asks. 

“Decide which way to run” explains Paul in a matter-of-fact tone. He isn’t joking. We hurry across the slope at an uncomfortably fast pace; all of us nervously keeping two eyes out for avalanches.

The scree slope lies ahead

Some of the boulders are literally the size of houses!

Hurrying up the death slope

Finally off the dreaded scree slope

After what seems like an age, we’re finally off the death slope and back onto the safety of the path. After a while we stop for a much needed lunch break of sandwiches and chocolate. We’re not used to the walking or the weight of our bags yet, and are well ready for a break. I find myself unable to catch my breath in the thin air, and understand how it must feel to be asthmatic. From our lunch position we can see the glacier that we must cross to reach our hut. As is always the case in the mountains, there is absolutely no sense of scale, so the glacier doesn’t look very big from here.

Stopping for a much needed lunch break

Above the tree line - the air is starting to get thin now! 

The Glacier looks small from here

Me standing infront of the valley we have just trekked through

The walk down to the glacier is quite challenging, as we have to regularly cross steep and slippery snow slopes. Finally we arrive at the base, and feel the freezing air rising from the frozen lake. Paul explains that this is a wet glacier, meaning it’s covered in snow. This is the dangerous kind; all glaciers are riddled with huge cracks and crevasses, which can be up to 500ft deep. On a wet glacier you can’t see these cracks as they’re covered in snow. Paul explains that most of the time the snow is thick enough to take our weight, and reassuringly points out that he’s “only gone down a crevasse a couple of times.” Nothing to be concerned about then. To be on the safe side, we all rope up together, so if one person goes down a crevasse, the other 6 in the group will theoretically be able to catch them. With our newly attached crampons on our feet, we ascend onto the glacier.

Roping up and getting a safety briefing from our guide Paul

Ready to go with my Ice Axe

Paul leads the way as we ascend the wet glacier

After several exhausting hours of walking over the glacier, we finally spot our hut in the distance, with a helicopter parked out front. This target spurs us on with a new wave of energy, until we realise with nothing but snow between us and the hut to mark a scale, it doesn’t appear to be getting any bigger. A long time later and it still isn’t any bigger, the group is getting tired. Other than Paul of course, who despite having a cold, soldiers on up the glacier without difficulty, like a machine. We later questioned whether he was perhaps the terminator, a robot sent back in time to guide us up the mountain.  

Trekking over the glacier is long and hard! Here Jason is in the front, followed by Ross, Ian, Nicola and Chrissie.

Finally after what really feels like an eternity, we reach the helicopter. A final stretch and rocky scrabble later and we stagger into the hut at an altitude of 2900 metres, where a small boy is waiting for us with a tray full of warm juice (I don't think it was very nice, but at that point I would have happily consumed anything). It wasn’t quite Heidi with her bars of Toblerone, but it would have to do. The lady who worked in the hut explained that the boy didn't live at this hut, he was the neighbours boy. We accepted this casual fact without question, although later over dinner it occurred to us that "the neighbours" were probably an 8 hour trek away, and it wasn't really a case of simply "popping over" to the next door hut. 

Paul posing infront of the supply helictoper

Stopping to catch our breath

I didn’t really know what to expect of the huts, and had envisioned something of a hunters cabin, not much more than walls, a roof and a fireplace. I was pleasantly surprised to find a three-story brick building perched half way up a glacier! The hut was quite basic, but it did have a fully functioning kitchen, powered by solar panels, and several cooks. The huts are supplied by helicopter so in bad weather the people that work in the hut are stranded there, unless they fancy a long walk. We’d climbed nearly 2000 metres today, twice the height of mt Snowdon, and walked for about 9 hours - I’d never felt so exhausted in my life! This was the highest altitude I had ever been at, and it was about three hours before my breath returned.  

The Mutthorn hut - our home for the night

After a hearty three-course dinner, we sat and rested and watched the sun set over the mountains as the clouds rolled in, it was beautiful.

Sunset over the hut

The evening clouds roll in to the mountains

The view was magical

Despite being physically exhausted I didn’t sleep well that night, partly due to still struggling to breath normally, and partly because I needed the toilet but couldn’t be bothered to make the journey to the outside toilet huts where the temperature had now dropped to below zero.