How I Made a Comfort Zone Out of The Matterhorn”

I got into hiking some time around 2014-2015. I backpacked a lot around Lebanon and for a while I thought I was on top of the world. In 2018, my manager’s wife dragged him to Kilimanjaro and he came back a changed man. He shared the story with me and told me I should give it a shot. I reached out to his guide through Facebook and the man told me I could come whenever I wanted. I didn’t really understand and I was afraid. At the time Kilimanjaro seemed like such an undertaking and I wasn’t going to go on a whim like that. I eventually went for it in 2022. When I tackled Ecuador 3 months later, the people that were there will tell you how I froze on my way down from Corazon because I didn’t trust my grip, and the void frightened me.

I’m trying to tell you 2 things here. The first is that I never had a specific goal when I started hiking and I never pictured myself climbing mountains, ever. Even when I did, I never knew where I was going. The second is that I’m afraid of the void. I think I owe it to my mother.

There were 2 instances where I got introduced to the Matterhorn. Before I even tackled Kilimanjaro, a friend of mine that was moving to Ireland and knew that I hiked told me to come visit him. “We’ll do something there! Matterhorn or whatever.” Needless to say I had never touched rock then and the man was a seasoned rock climber. I nodded and smiled. The second time was actually in Ecuador when one of my friends that was climbing along was supposed to tackle it in a couple of months. I forgot about when I actually asked about it (it was probably in Ecuador though) but I was told that the Matterhorn was a tough one. “You’re scared of the void? Yeah well that’s the ‘voidiest’ of voids. You need to be really comfortable with it.” I somehow pictured it in that moment like an endless wall, one where even peeing was a daring adventure. It was also there and then that I probably made peace with my ceiling. “Yeah that’s a mountain I’ll never really get close to, and that’s fine.”

By the end of 2022, I had gone through so much personally that there was a lot of compounded grief inside of me. I made the rash decision of signing up to climb Aconcagua. I wanted to be alone for the end of the year, on the other side of the world, and in harsh conditions that would somehow progress my grief and have me process it. I’m not sure what happened between Ecuador and Argentina, but I felt like the impostor in the first and I was pretty confident in the latter (although I was pretty scared going there). But the truth is that after Aconcagua, I had a new sense of self-belief that grew in me from that mountain. I felt I was more confident. I already had my eye on the Mont Blanc for the upcoming summer and that was supposed to be my gateway into alpinism. If you know anything about this author though, you should know that I have a hobby of surprising people. With what follows, I even surprised myself.

Looking at a video of the Mushroom Ridge on Ama Dablam after my Aconcagua climb, I thought this was something crazy that I would never do. In a conversation with Rami about it however, he made sure I knew there was a way to get there. And I don’t know what clicked in that moment, but conversation after conversation and I found myself signing up for a mixed ridges course right after the Mont Blanc that would potentially have me climbing up the Matterhorn at the end.

There was around half a year that separated my decision to do it from actually doing it. And during those months, I probably exhausted every single YouTube search about POVs of climbing the Matterhorn, the Dent du Géant, the traverses of Marbrées and Entrèves. Day after day I was trying to come to peace with the void through my computer screen (haha). You can laugh along but eventually looking at some of them, I thought it was okay. The Matterhorn was never okay though, and the fish-eyed lens perspective of the Go Pros didn’t help at all with portraying the exposure to the void.

Summer came and I went for the first part of my itinerary. Some days were fine, some others were frightening. There was even a stretch on Petit Flambeau where the void took me aback. I pushed through. I got slightly more comfortable with the void. And then on the only rest day I had between the first part of the itinerary and the Matterhorn preps, I caught the flu. “Bring your A game” Rami said to me. “But I’m sick!” It didn’t matter to him.

I traversed the Aiguilles d’Entrèves on my first day of being sick. We made good time and it somehow gave me added confidence. On my second day of being sick, we drove to Zermatt and hiked up to the Hornli hut. I was lagging behind. I blamed it on the flu. For that whole afternoon at the hut, I spent my time staring at the Matterhorn towering above me. It was similar to those face-offs that you see in combat sports, except that the mountain was unbothered and I was frightened. I had impostor syndrome and I tried to fit in with the others, but a part of me knew that once we’d be on the ridge, my true colors would show. I was way out of my depth.

On my third day of being sick, we went out at 5AM to climb the Matterhorn. I was slow, I was sloppy and I was hesitant. Climbers were asking to pass us and we took 2 arguably long breaks during the first hours. By the time we made it to the Solvay hut, the sun was already high up. Past that point, I remember a huge slab that I struggled to overcome. There were no holds at all and I dragged myself miserably through it. Around 100m of elevation later, I was tired and I had run out of water. I asked my guide, Fred, to come down. Once we got off the mountain, people clapped. They didn’t care if I summited or not. Apparently being on the Matterhorn was already an accomplishment. I later on asked Fred how he thinks I should improve and I wanted an honest answer. He simply said “You should eat rocks.”

The weather turned me around on Chimborazo and I did not mind it in retrospect. I knew I’d be back some day. At the time of writing, it’s been a bit more than 2 years and counting from that day. On Aconcagua, I chose to turn back cause I was satisfied. I stopped caring about the summit at some point and the mountain does not haunt me. If I ever happen to be there again, I wouldn’t mind it but I’m not keen on it to the point of forcing it to happen. It’s also been 2 years since then. For the Matterhorn though, I couldn’t stay away. I decided to come back 11 months later. I had my mind set on it. There was however a duality on the inside. Part of me really wanted to blame the flu for ruining my climb while the other part was begging the question. Was it really the flu? Are you really that ready for it? The silver lining in my head though was that I had broken my fear of the Matterhorn. I had seen it for what it is and I was now thinking “Wait, the void isn’t too bad here.”

I came back for the Matterhorn in August 2024. My confidence was sky high. I had even bought new shoes for the occasion that were lighter and more flexible than my Nepal Cubes from the previous year and I even thought those would help me on the mountain. For the first day of the course, we did the Grand Perrons traverse. I was really good hiking up to the pass. It all went to shit though on the first rock. I couldn’t find my grip. I couldn’t trust my shoes and I couldn’t stand on my legs. I dragged myself up that rock the same way I did right after Solvay a year ago. So yeah, you can say my confidence took a hit.

At the end of that day, we were told we weren’t ready for the Matterhorn. For the next couple of days, I would overhear conversations about how much preparation we needed and how far away were we. I was feeling miserable. For 2 days, my mood swayed towards all of the extremes you can think of. “I don’t want to climb anymore. What’s the point?” “Maybe this is where I stop. It’s been a good 2 years but mountains aren’t for me.” “What if I use this time to improve? Time is not given back so let me try to get better.” “But I’m performing like shit!”

The eventual day came where our guides told us that the Matterhorn was indeed not possible and that we would go for the Lagginhorn. There was silence in the room. I didn’t want to go there but I kept an open mind. “Can you tell me about the Lagginhorn?” I asked. Our guides told me it was a glacier climb all the way through. I said I didn’t want that. In the words of Fred, I told them “I want to eat rocks. I’m good on the glacier.” The conversation went back and forth about how we should be good in all environments to succeed on mountains and I agreed. It’s just that I wanted to tackle my weakness and if it was rocks, I was more than happy to put a boulder in front of the hotel and spend the whole day crossing it until I did so confidently.

We eventually settled on Orny, a paradise for rock itineraries. The whole team benefited and it was a multi-pitch alpine dream to be honest. It bolstered my confidence on rocks and I discussed it with my guide for this year, JB, who told me the Matterhorn is possible one day but I need to keep at it. At the end of itinerary, I was asked by my friends how I felt about the whole situation. “Aren’t you annoyed with the fact that you were supposedly ready for the Matterhorn last year, and now that you come back more prepared than ever, you’re being told that you’re not ready for it?” I told them it was an internal fight that I had to process for 2 full days. The Matterhorn became an afterthought. My epiphany was that I just wanted to be an alpinist and I was happy to use the time given to me to get better in any way possible.

I had one more week to spend in the Alps because I was team leading on the TMB. It was supposed to be just that, but then Rami called me one day and told me the snow was melting off the Matterhorn. We supposedly weren’t ready for the Matterhorn but the snow on it would’ve made the climb even harder. Now however, the snow was melting off and Rami wanted to give me a shot. He told me I’d have one night to spend at the hut however, versus the two nights that were originally planned a week ago. What that means is that I’d have to start my climb in the morning, summit and come back down to the hut, rest and then make it back to the cable car to Zermatt before 5PM. The added night would’ve given me the luxury to rest after the climb and to stretch it a bit if needed. I looked at my times from last year. It took me 5 hours and a half to get to 100m above Solvay, so at that pace you can say 5 hours to Solvay. This year I needed to be at Solvay in 2 hours and a half maximum. Could I do it? I thought I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. If I succeed, it’ll be nice. If I don’t, the failure would probably be too much to live with. I asked who my guide will be. I was told it would be Fred. “Great, I can’t disappoint the same guy 2 years in a row.” But I liked Fred. Hannah, my climbing partner, was also coming along and JB was her guide. I was happy, there seemed to be a sense of poetic justice in all of this.

We drove to Zermatt at the end of the week and hiked up to Hornli. I kept pace with the guides, I was feeling good. I grabbed a drink by the Matterhorn and then I chose to go take a nap. There was no sense in dwelling on the morning. I liked the fact that I was calm. We had dinner later in the evening and JB told us “Do not think of the mountain. Try to sleep.” I thought it would be fine cause I was already feeling good. As soon as I went to bed though, I couldn’t stop thinking of the mountain. In a sense I just wanted to get done with tomorrow. “Can you please spoil it for me and tell me what’s going to happen? Do we really need to go through the climb?” I was afraid of failure.

We woke up, had breakfast and left at 4:30AM. As soon as I started climbing, I heard JB in the back. “Yes Jean-Louis, go smoothly and gracefully!” And I was off. I was in a trance and I wasn’t really thinking. You know how walking comes naturally to you? That’s how climbing felt on that day. Rami had told me to go and not think about it. That was exactly what was happening. I had only one thing on my mind and it was to reach Solvay by sunrise. The rest was all a blur. Next thing I knew we were passing people. I was the efficient one this time around. The darkness lasted for long and we took no breaks. I had my doubts. “Are we still that far off? I remember taking 2 breaks before Solvay last year and we haven’t taken any yet? Am I slower?” But I didn’t speak of it, I just climbed. When the light pierced the sky behind the Monte Rosa in the back, I looked up and saw Solvay right above me. I had made it there in 2 hours. We stopped at the hut and Fred asked me if I needed a break. I said no. He said okay but I do, I need to pee.

Next up was a nightmare. The supposed “slab” after Solvay. I came face to face with it and realized it was full of holds. “Wait, THAT’s what gave me trouble last year? This is easy!” I climbed on. 100m above Solvay, we waited for people that were on the ropes. It was a fleeting moment in time. I told Fred this is where we stopped last year. My words were lost in the wind. We climbed on. We got to the fixed ropes. My hands hurt but it all felt like a breeze. It passed without too much struggle and thought. Above it all, there was ice on the shoulder. We were done with the ropes and got our ice axes out and started climbing on ice. Fred turned and told me “Well, we’re almost there. 15 mins to the summit.” I started crying and screamed “Don’t tell me about it! We’ll be there when we’ll be there!” The slope was steep so I had my face down all the time. When it started gradually getting flatter, I lifted my gaze and saw the statue of St. Bernard that I knew stood on the Swiss summit. My body relaxed and my hands fell to my side. Fred turned around and told me “We’re there. Congrats.” I cried again. My mind was still overclocked so I knew time was of the essence. “Can we… can we please cross to the Italian summit? I’d like a picture there too.” And so we did. When we were back on the Swiss side and ready to come down, I saw JB and Hannah coming up. JB smiled at me and I hugged Hannah. The descent was painful. I had no more knees by the end of it. When we were back at Hornli, I waited a bit for Hannah and then saw her as I was going out of the toilet. We hugged. “We did it! I need to pee but my knees hurt so much I’m not sure I can squat” she told me in tears. “I just shat and had to stop midway through cause my knees hurt as well from squatting” I replied in tears as well.

I think the purpose of this whole story and the reason why I chose this title is just to tell you that I would have never imagined it possible for me to do the Matterhorn. I then set my crazy mind on it, failed, got fed the reasons why I failed although I didn’t believe in them, and got back and did it proving everyone wrong, even myself in the process. It was the flu that held me back, but it was also my fear of the mountain. One should always respect it, but I overdid a bit much on my first attempt and it was crippling. I shouldn’t take away anything from the Matterhorn but I should allow myself the space that my experience and confidence should occupy. Why it became a comfort zone, you may ask? Because in considering other mountains in the Alps, my feet still shivered at the thought of the void. I thought I was still afraid of it but it was only the Matterhorn that was normalized in my head. That is only until a couple of days ago when the same footage of the Mushroom Ridge on Ama Dablam resurfaced on my feed. And it didn’t scare me.

I know I still have a long way to go and I know that I will still require an adaptation period when I come back to the Alps. But I’m just trying to tell you that if you set your mind to it, it’s all possible. With the right mindset and preparation, it’s all possible.