Assessing an Icon: The Matterhorn

Continuing our systematic exploration of Alpine skiing, The Spouse and I recently took a week-long vacation that began with several days at Zermatt, moved on to different parts of the vast Portes du Soleil ski network that spans mountains and towns in Switzerland and France, and wound up at Chamonix in the heart of the French Alps.  It was our first time in all of these places and they couldn’t have been more different.

Matterhorn from Gornergrat Railway

“You must visit Zermatt!” has been a common refrain among friends and acquaintances.  Overlooked by the iconic Matterhorn sitting astride the Swiss-Italian border, the area is one of the most famous sites in Switzerland, and certainly one of the most well-known mountain images in the world.  The day after we arrived in Zermatt I posted a photo of the Matterhorn on Facebook and asked “Where in the world are we?”  Within minutes I had correct responses from friends all over the world – including a smart-alec Californian, who commented “Disneyland, of course!”  A few days later, I posted a photo of Mont Blanc, the highest peak in Europe, and no one recognized it.

Which prompted me to muse on why this particular “horn” – a geological term referring to a mountain carved on all sides by glaciers – has achieved such iconic status.  It is undeniably impressive, standing tall and apart from the other peaks in the area.  But I have to say that we have seen many, many awesome mountain peaks in our year and a half in Switzerland, just none as famous as this one.

John Ruskin's view of the Matterhorn

When outside travelers began to explore the Alps in the 18^th century – for any purpose other than simply crossing from Italy to central Europe – many were awestruck by the Matterhorn’s shape, clearly a product of vast natural forces yet close to a pure pyramid.  English Romantics flocked to the Alps, seeing their wildness as a contrast to all they disliked in “modern” civilization.  In the 1840s, English artist and social critic John Ruskin discovered the Alps and the Matterhorn during travels to Italy, and his writings and drawings made the mountain famous among the English. 

Then, in mid-century mountaineering captured the imaginations of English and European gentlemen, sparking a race to be the first to climb one or another peak.  The Matterhorn’s sheer rock faces offered one of the most difficult challenges.  It was finally conquered in 1865 by a group led by Englishman Edward Whymper, but the death of four of his party on the descent only added to its formidable reputation. 

By the end of the century, the expansion of the Swiss railroad system made the Alps accessible to middle-class English travelers.  Zermatt was reached by railroad in 1891, and a cog rail line was constructed to Gornergrat, a smaller peak offering superb views of the Matterhorn.  And in 1908 Swiss artist Emil Cardinaux, under a commission from the Swiss tourism agency, created the classic poster that cemented the image of the Matterhorn in the international mind.

Thinking over the most common iconic travel images, I realized that many of them were the products of the latter part of the 19^th century – the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, even London’s Big Ben was not constructed until 1859.  This same period saw the birth of mass international tourism, and I suspect that our images of them also began with tourism posters.

So, how did the mighty Matterhorn stand up to our scrutiny?  As you might have guessed, I am something of an iconoclast when it comes to “must-see” sites, so I approached the experience with a certain amount of skepticism.  My attitude wasn’t helped by the fact that, after driving south from the Vallais through the Nikolaital, we had to leave our car in the village of Täsch and take a shuttle train to Zermatt, which does not allow cars.  We parked in a huge garage/train station that reminded me of the vast garage on the outskirts of Venice, another tourism icon.   We had to schlep all our suitcases and ski gear on to the train, which to compound matters was delayed by avalanche testing.  (By the way, I picked up the Yiddish term “to schlep” from Jewish friends in college days, and was delighted to discover that it is a real German verb, schleppen, “to drag.”) 

Aboard the shuttle to Zermatt

Almost everyone else in the large crowd awaiting the train had loaded their stuff on airport-style dollies, and I anticipated a massive mess when it came time to board, when everyone had to transfer their stuff onto the train.  But when the train arrived everyone simply pushed their carts directly onto the cars, which had open spaces where carts could be secured to the walls via hooks for the purpose.  It’s impossible to underestimate the ingenuity of Swiss railways.  At the other end, they simply rolled them off the train and toward waiting taxis.

We too bundled ourselves onto one of the little electric cars that are the main form of transport in Zermatt, and I immediately recognized the wisdom of the system.  Outfitted with snow chains, taxis easily maneuvered through the narrow, snow-packed streets, which would have been clogged with normal cars driven by tourists unused to such icy conditions.  Plus, the air in the narrow valley was crystal clear.

We settled into our comfortable little hotel and we set out to explore the town.  It was charming, though clouds obscured the most famous part of its skyline.  After struggling for a time for traction on the hard-packed streets, The Spouse marched us into a sporting goods store and purchased two sets of ice cleats – problem solved.

As far as I can see, the only major problem with Zermatt is that it is Very Expensive, even by Swiss standards.  We dealt with this on our two nights there by eating in Italian restaurants; pasta is relatively less expensive and given the fact that Italy is just the other side of the mountain one can say it is almost local cuisine.  The staff at both places were definitely Italian.

View of Zermatt from Gondola

Like most ski towns in Switzerland, Zermatt is nestled in a steep valley, while the slopes are located high on the mountains above.  There are a number of different skiing sectors, each reached by separate parts of a complex network of cog-wheel trains, trams and gondolas.  Fortunately, our hotel was located a ten-minute walk from a gondola offering access to several areas.  

Our first morning out we headed to the Gornergrat area, but when we reached the end of the last gondola we found that the lift to the top wasn’t running yet.  So we jumped on the cog-wheel train, which had originated from the opposite side of town, and rode it to its end just below an old observatory overlooking the Gornergletscher (glacier). 

Although forecasts promised sun, we got off the train into a driving blizzard and slowly made our way down the mountain.  Though I intensely dislike skiing new slopes in limited visibility, we soon found that the blue slopes actually merited their Easy designation.  Gradually breaks in the clouds offered fleeting glimpses of the Matterhorn.

On day two we took a series of gondolas and a tram to the top of Klein Matterhorn, for some reason now referred to as “Matterhorn Glacier Paradise.”  Because of a bit of knee trouble I decided not to ski that day and instead did some winter hiking.  But at the top, which should have given us an awesome panorama of the Matterhorn and the Italian side of the mountains, we were greeted by another blizzard.  The Spouse explored some of these slopes while I sipped coffee at the comfy restaurant.  

In the afternoon we returned to Gornergrat, where I took a hike that affording lovely, if somewhat hazy Matterhorn views.

After two days, what had I learned about this famous icon?  Although the Matterhorn is undeniably impressive, I found that its iconic status inevitably influenced my experience.  That is, I always comparing what I saw with a pre-existing image in my mind.  In fact, to avoid disappointment one guidebook recommends which areas to visit to get “the classic Matterhorn view.”  (It reminded me of a niece’s comment about Big Ben when we took her to London several decades ago: “I thought it would be bigger.”)

In a sense, the Matterhorn (and Zermatt) has become a brand.  It never changes, because we experience the icon as much as the reality.  Perhaps that is why many people like to return again and again.  The British are particularly fond of the area – we heard more English spoken here than anywhere we’ve visited – and I enjoyed conversing with an elderly English gentleman with whom I shared a lunch table.  Now in his 80s, he comes back to Zermatt every year, always staying at the same hotel.  This is understandable for someone his age, but I couldn’t help thinking about all of the other beautiful places in Switzerland that he’s never seen.

Lunch, Haute Savoie style

On the other hand, we had little idea of what to expect from the other areas we visited.  We enjoyed a pleasant day on the family-friendly slopes above the French town of Morzine – offering the easiest runs I have encountered in the Alps – but were most impressed by the quality of the Haute Savoie cuisine offered at a tiny restaurant atop one of the highest points.  The promised view of Mont Blanc was blocked by clouds.

Our happiest discovery was the resort of Avoriaz, a town built in the 1970s atop a plateau.  All of the buildings were designed to look like cliffdwellings that blending with the massive brown cliffs behind it.   I gather that the designs are controversial, but after months of chalets The Spouse and I were enchanted.  The town is completely car-free, in fact the only means of transport are skis and a horse-drawn sleigh, generally used to carry baggage to ones hotel or condo.  Even better, day two at Avoriaz was beautiful, the only blue-sky ski day of our vacation.  We were enchanted by the views and the diversity of skiing slopes.  We’ll definitely be back.

At the end of the ski day we drove to Chamonix, passing beneath the formidable bulk of Mont Blanc.  This area is best known for its fantastic off-piste skiing, appealing mainly to experts.  The town itself is charming in a quintessentially French sort of way, but my experience there was limited by the fact that the mountain was socked in both days we were there.  No matter, I let The Spouse enjoy exploring black pistes in the fog while I relaxed in the hot tub at our hotel – unusual in our experience of Alpine accommodations. 

On our last afternoon we did take a lovely walk through snowy woods in the valley.  After a week of climbing mountains on trains, trams and gondolas, it was somehow a delight to experience winter deliberately on our own two feet.