Dom: a winning bet and a sublime West face

The Dom (4546 m) is the highest summit lying entirely on Swiss territory.

It is also the summit Patrick Berhault would never reach: he fell to his death on it during his final ascent, on 28 April 2004.

The Dom, the tragic last chapter in the life of an extraordinary alpinist. A mountain that has held a special symbolism for me ever since.

Why not close this magnificent ski season with this mountain, by writing a very special last chapter?

The idea slowly takes shape: attempt a one-shot ascent of the Dom from the valley, and consider a descent via its sublime West face, probably rarely skied and without a single ski descent report on c2c.

There are still unknowns (partner, weather, conditions), but the idea takes shape and the planets align at the end of the week, with an interesting weather window and a first-rate companion who answers the call.

Marc-Henri and I meet up on Saturday evening and board the last train to Zermatt.

At 23:34 we set off from Randa (1406 m), our packs heavily loaded, in the silence and mist of a calm, hazy night. During the first thousand metres of ascent we exchange only a few words, Marc-Henri seemingly lost in a kind of meditation, while I whistle a few notes of Electric Light Orchestra — amusing myself by reworking the lyrics into Last Train to Le Dom.

A few hours of approach, mixing steep paths and via ferrata, finally bring us to the Domhütte. There we allow ourselves a welcome break to rest our eyelids and rehydrate our cells.

The alarm tears us from our very brief dreams (which the noisy preparations of departing climbers had at first prevented), and we continue our climb towards the summit, which at last reveals itself.

The West face of the Dom rises before us, sublime in its steepness and relief, its seracs and rocks standing out as dawn sets them ablaze. Behind us, the sun darts its first pink-orange rays onto all the East faces of the Mattertal, offering us an incandescent spectacle. This wonder helps chase away the lack of sleep and gathers our strength.

The hours go by as we glide over these vast expanses of glacier, and our goal slowly draws nearer, by way of the playful bit of climbing at the Festijoch and an impressive traverse beneath the seracs of the North flank.

The strong wind during the last two hours of the ascent puts our morale severely to the test, without really letting doubt set in. Hohberghorn, Stecknadelhorn, Nadelhorn, Lenzspitze. They are all so close, their slender summits soaring proudly towards a sky where swirls of snow dance wildly.

Our progress becomes gruelling; we break up our climb with a few stops to shelter from this biting wind, which reminds us that no ascent is ever a given; the Dom is a summit you have to earn.

The emotion is beautiful, magnified by the physical and mental effort of the last ten hours, as we reach the summit cross — magnificently adorned with a golden Christ.

The West face, which we scrupulously studied on our way up the North flank, looks to be in condition for a ski descent. The rope helps guarantee a minimum of safety as we commit to it, and once we're in, it's pure bliss.

Then come 1400 m of descent and turns in every kind of snow, bringing us back to the Domhütte in a state of euphoria, from where a long descent takes us back to the valley — by way of the famous Randa suspension bridge.

A long climb (15+ hours) and a gruelling total time awake (30+ hours), but a legendary outing, a fitting final curtain for this extraordinary season.

Thank you, Marc-Henri, for your company and for this “dream rope team on the crest of the 4000ers”.