Matterhorn Ultraks (46 Km, 3000m D+)

Posted on January 24th, 2013

Words & Photos: Filippo Canetta

RUNNING WITH YOUR HEAD HELD HIGH

Coming off a race just six days earlier, I'm nowhere near able to be competitive. So instead of running with my head down, focused on each step, this time I ran with my head up, taking in the scenery and snapping loads of photos.
And it was worth it.

The route is fairly simple in its beauty. One big loop around Zermatt, climbing and descending through the four valleys that flow into it. This let us, at different points throughout the day, take in the Matterhorn from four different vantage points.

Lined up at the start line are, almost all of them, the strongest athletes in the world. For me, it's a wonderful chance to watch them up close, at least until the moment the gun goes off!

The 3,600 meters of elevation gain over such a short distance make themselves felt right from the start, with a rapid climb straight out of the gate. The pace is blistering, and we climb all the way to Sunnegga at 2,300 meters, where, helped by the first light of morning, I see the Matterhorn, in all its glory, for the first time in my life.

The trails aren't particularly technical, but the climbs and descents are always very steep. Within just a few kilometers, we reach Gornergrat, which, at 3,100 m, is the highest point of the race. The spot is stunning, to the left is Monte Rosa with its peaks and glaciers, and to the right, the Matterhorn with its striking East face. From here you can admire more than twenty peaks above 4,000 m. I stop for a long while to take photos, it feels like being in paradise, with this incredible quality of light. I'm so absorbed by the scenery that, instead of running to avoid losing positions, I end up photographing the competitors passing me. It's pretty strange, honestly, seeing a train station at 3,100 meters above sea level.

With the Matterhorn always in view, the 1,200 meters of descent go by quickly until we reach the valley floor, which we cross on a modern "Tibetan" suspension bridge, where running is forbidden! To avoid any mishaps, I wait for the person ahead of me to get off the bridge before starting my own crossing. My sense of vertigo suddenly kicks in when the bridge starts swaying noticeably, thanks to someone behind me who's decided to run across it anyway.

With the third climb, taking us up to Schwarzsee, we get right up close to the base of the great mountain. After that, we descend once more, following the route that crosses the valley floor just past the edge of the glacier's tongue.

I keep taking photos of the scenery and of the other competitors, who seem a bit curious about this approach of mine. At one point Nuria Dominguez asks if I'd like her to take a photo of me. But I'm not really one for photos with me in them.

We leave the Matterhorn behind as we climb back up the valley opposite. Here too the scenery is spectacular, we pass near a massive waterfall, as we make our way up along the trail that winds its way back to 2,700 meters. From here you can see the entire race route, except for the long-awaited final descent, which is still nowhere in sight. We still have to drop back down to Trift for the last checkpoint, then climb the last 200 meters before starting a long traverse that, staying high above Zermatt, brings us to the top of the final descent. As we approach the built-up area, the magic of the landscape fades quickly. I've been so intensely swept up by the beauty of the mountains that I completely forgot about the race. Who knows who's won, or where I've placed?

I'll admit it, in my endless ignorance of the mountains, I'd never actually seen the Matterhorn before. Which is exactly why I signed up for this race in the first place.

I often find myself wondering why, over the centuries, populations chose to settle in one particular spot rather than another. In this case, the answer is very simple. One glance is enough to understand why the mountain that symbolizes Switzerland is wonderfully unlike any other. A pyramid formed by four enormous faces, carved out by the retreat of just as many glaciers.

Had I been a mountaineer arriving in that valley in the second half of the nineteenth century, I wouldn't have had a single doubt about what to do: the mountain had to be conquered.

But since I don't have a time machine, and I'm no mountaineer, I settle for running around it instead.