The Little Matterhorn

Little Matterhorn is located in Colorado with an elevation of 11586 feet. Rory and I decided to climb it on August 18 2015 during an amazing week of backpacking and climbing. At this point, we had already finished our first multi-pitch climb, our climb of Mount Meeker, and a bit of backpacking among beautiful wildflowers. I felt tired but ready for this next adventure. It’s been quite some time since the climb, but recalling the emotional experience won’t be hard.

Now before I start, let me say: I love climbing – that sense of focus that quiets your mind with each step you take. I’m not one to climb with music, cheering, or even chatter. I need focus to be able to climb well: I need to be able to do and not think.

On Little Matterhorn, all I did was think…think and panic. It started with the approach. We woke up early, put on our headlamps, and walked with a goal of finding the best trail down. We had no good directions of where this trail was located but knew there should be an easy way to the approach. We found none; instead we bushwhacked and down-climbed a sketchy section that ended in a tall field of grass. I am a slow down-climber – perhaps the slowest. Climbing up has always been more my style (unless we’re rappelling), so alas, Rory was down and hunting for the trail long before me.

When I made it to the grass I couldn’t see anything. I’m 5’1” and Rory was definitely not in sight. I called out for him with no response. I had no idea where I was and I have no sense of direction. I walk, call out, walk, bushwhack, walk, call out, until I’m officially frustrated. Eventually (but likely not that long after) I find him smiling at the trail ready to begin the climb – he had no idea.

We start climbing on the shiftiest rock I’ve ever been on – but we were climbing up – up I’m okay with. Occasionally I thought about the climb down, but it was sunny, beautiful, and we were climbing a mountain…awesome.

I climbed slowly – Rory was far ahead of me and I was left behind with falling rocks and picas. I tried to stay staggered with him to avoid rock fall, but eventually he was so far ahead it wasn’t an issue. When I finally made it to the summit ridge it was late. I felt both a sense of accomplishment and dread. Ahead of me was a knife-edge ridge to the summit while below me was an unstable mountain. I told Rory to go ahead and finish but he declined – it was late, clouds were coming in, and we needed to get down quickly. Quickly…drat. We started down.

Power words, I love them. In many of our adventures I use some phrase to help me get through a hard section, i.e. “I am a slab queen”. It may sound odd, but it works so I use it. Sadly, I came up with this later in life. For this down climb, I had no motivating words. Looking back on it now I would have told myself “I am a pica”…but I had only fear. Fear of breaking a leg and not beginning PT school; fear I would tumble to my death; fear I would be stuck on Little Matterhorn.

Ahead of me Rory jumped from rock to rock all the way down. Each rock he stepped on went tumbling down the mountain while he gracefully bounced to the next one. To the sides of me picas jumped up, squealed a sound of alarm in my direction, and bounced to the next rock to repeat this. Each step I took resulted in an almost fall down the mountain with rocks giving way. Would a helicopter be willing to rescue me?

I kept looking ahead to find Rory getting smaller and smaller. This looked so easy for him…I hated it. I hated the once adorable picas that never moved a rock, I hated the sense of debilitating fear of scrambling down an unstable mountain, and I hated feeling incapable. I cried. In all honestly, I likely took 3 steps, cried, and took 3 more. I did this down the entire mountain.

I never loved solid ground more than I did that day. When I finally made it down I promptly sat. I sat and relished not moving.

I would recommend this climb if you have good dynamic balance. I would also recommend going further down the main trail than expected – down to Lake Helene. You’ll easily find a trail down to the approach and not need to bushwhack – we weren’t clear on this until we saw it plainly from our highpoint on the mountain. I would also recommend adopting power words unless you’re someone who loves scrambling down shifty rock.