Three years ago, my soon-to-be wife and I ventured into the Bernese Oberland. After my recent move to Switzerland, I was nearly broke and didn't have much money for the expensive lifts into the high alpine that the European Alps are famous for. We spent two glorious days walking up the Aletsch glacier with plans to climb the Mönch by the normal route. After a successful, but eye-opening, experience accidentally climbing the SW ridge instead of the SE ridge, we were hooked on cold, snowy mountains!


We had planned on climbing the Jungfrau the following day, but due to time constraints, lack of money, and shot nerves from climbing the wrong (and more difficult) route we opted to take the scenic way back down the glacier into the flatlands. However, our desire to climb that mountain continued to grow. We just didn't want to sell everything we owned to afford the train ticket up to the Jungfraujoch, and we didn't want to spend any more days roasting in the mid day heat of the Aletsch glacier.

Suddenly, somehow, we came across a route titled "Jungfrau by fair means" and we knew that was our ticket up!


The Rottal Ridge sits above the picturesque Lauterbrunnen valley, where some people can spot a fairly good resemblance to Tolkiens images of Rivendell. Waterfalls cascade down giant rock faces, and the beauty seems majestic and endless.


Hiking up into the valley sides was no trivial matter. Everything in this country seems steep, so much so that people refer to hikes in vertical meters instead of actual distance travelled. Along certain paths like this, people will also post reminders of how serious the mountains can be.


After a moment of silence, and a slight ego check, we continued on up the 1800 vertical meters to where we could overnight in the Rottal hut.




We took our time hiking up, knowing that we had a long way to go and a lot of time to get there. Once at the hut, we went and checked out the slabs at the beginning of the climb. Knowing that we'd be climbing them in the dark the next morning, we took special care to try and find landmarks to navigate, and make note of where there might be fresh verglass on the rocks the following day.


We awoke the next morning to astoundingly warm temperatures. I allowed myself to get excited, thinking that we might not need to navigate the slabs with fresh ice. We strapped on the boots and were out the door by 4am.

The first sections of the slabs went well, even in the dark. Opting to rope up later, we were able to make good time and reached the start of the technical stuff right at sunrise.




Like we were told by the hut warden, the route had a lot of snow on it. It seemed consolidated, and temperatures were at a stable level of "fresh." We roped up, strapped on the crampons, and were stoked to finally rock and roll!

I don't know if i can describe the enjoyment of mixed stuff...it's like trying to explain why you climb a run out route, or an offwidth, or like grovelling up chimneys. For me, I love the concentration, having to judge what is frozen in well, what isn't, and what snow/ice to step on or hook with a tool.


Amazingly, this route was sustained for the grade. Lots of routefinding mixed with very cautious climbing in a grand atmosphere. We were so focused we could hardly take pictures of the cool pitches!



After what seemed like a blink of an eye, we reached the upper snowfields, and only then noticed that we had been on route for 5 hours. We couldn't believe it! How does the time pass so quickly? The sun was starting to peak out over the ridge, so we donned our glasses and made our way up the final 400 meters of snow and ice.



After having dreamed of this mountain for 3 years, we couldn't believe we were standing there. Tears of mixed joy and exhaustion streamed down our faces and steamed our glasses. A beautiful, windless day on top of the Jungfrau, and that achieved by an amazing 24 hour approach, we couldn't have asked for more.

Once down the (surprisingly!) steep normal route, drinking beers on the terrase of the Jungfraujoch, I expected to have that familiar tingle of "well, what mountain are we going to try next?"

When Megalena asked me that inevitable question, I could only respond "I don't know. I'm pretty happy with that one."

At that moment, I realized that I was staring into the massive glaciered landscape to admire its beauty, rather than focusing on where other routes up the ridges and faces were hiding. My spirit felt cleansed, and I felt humbled.