Jegihorn, Saastal 🇨đź‡
It’s been a while since I last wrote something here, and honestly, I wasn’t sure where to begin. But a recent climb with a friend and our mountain guide by the name, Pere gave me exactly the spark I needed.
We were in the heart of Switzerland’s Saas Valley, staying in Saas-Grund—a small village tucked between high peaks and deep glacial valleys. The goal: summit Jägihorn, a 3,200-meter peak known for its via ferrata and moderate alpine climbing routes. Compared to some of the big names nearby, it’s considered “relatively easy.” But for me, this wasn’t just another summit. It felt like a return.
The last time I did something remotely similar was back in 2022 on a climb in Chamonix with my then-fiancée, now wife. That trip was beautiful and light-hearted, but this time felt more serious—a bigger commitment. Jägihorn involves about 300 meters of 4C rock climbing from the base, and with its altitude, acclimatization matters. I was also recovering from a minor knee injury from trail running in the Italian Alps just days before. I knew I’d need to be mindful on the descent.
We started the day early, met Pere, and took the cable car up from Saas-Grund. From the top station, it was a short approach to the base of the route—just a few kilometres of rocky trail and around 500 metres of vertical gain. As we geared up, memories came back from past climbs, especially one with Pere last year on Aiguilles Marbrées traverse and during an ice climbing trip on the Mer de Glace glacier. It felt good to be back in that environment.
The first few pitches were led by Pere. I was still warming up, and more importantly, still figuring out how my rental climbing shoes were going to behave. The fit wasn’t ideal, but it worked. The friction was manageable, and soon enough I found my rhythm.
After a few pitches, I gathered the courage to ask if I could lead one myself. To my surprise, Pere agreed and walked me through everything—how to build a belay anchor, how to manage the rope from above, where to place protection. And just like that, I was leading my first alpine pitch in the high Alps. That moment—being completely absorbed in the movement, the exposure, the focus of setting gear and pulling over rock—is something I’ll carry with me for a long time. You don’t think about anything else. Just the next hold, the next breath, the next step.
From the climb, we had views of some of the area’s iconic 4000-meter peaks: Allalinhorn, Nadelhorn, Alphubel, Lagginhorn, Weissmies—some of which we were hoping to climb in the coming days. The weather added its own drama. Clouds danced in and out, occasionally revealing jaw-dropping panoramas. Sometimes they rolled in thick and fast, pelting us with a quick burst of hail before drifting off again.
As we reached the final pitch, Pere tasked me with leading all of us to the summit. I obliged and then belayed my friend and Pere from the summit anchor. Standing on top of Jägihorn, surrounded by alpine silence and dramatic light, was a quiet, deep kind of joy.
Funny enough, just a day earlier we had taken a cable car up to Längfluh, arguably more spectacular in terms of raw views—towering glaciers and jagged ridgelines right in your face. But I still preferred this one. Why? Because I earned this one. That difference, the effort and the story behind the view made it unforgettable.
Of course, it’s never really over until you're back down. We had an 800-meter descent ahead—and my knee wasn’t thrilled about it. On the downhill, I was doing my best to manage the pain from a recent flare-up, trying not to overdo it. But just as we reached the base of Jägihorn, rain started to fall. A glance at the time—and panic. The last cable car was leaving in 20 minutes. We had just enough time if we moved fast.
Any worry about my knee evaporated. We ran. Slid. Scrambled. Whatever it took. We made it to the cable car with just two minutes to spare. It was the perfect ending. Not just because we caught that lift, but because the day had everything I look for in the mountains: challenge, beauty, uncertainty, growth—and just a hint of chaos.
Would I recommend Jägihorn to others? Absolutely. But only if you want more than just a summit. This one offers a story too.
