The Edelweiss Couloir and the Right Gear
Above Zermatt, a perfect line demands the right tools, proving that "making do" has no place on 45-degree snow.
The Edelweiss Couloir is one of the most aesthetic lines facing Zermatt, but it is rarely in condition and unforgiving of mistakes. On a perfect powder day, a friend’s lack of specialized vertical snowshoes turned a straightforward climb into a dangerous struggle, requiring a rope rescue mid-face. This field note highlights why specific gear is a safety requirement, not a luxury, and how preparation transforms a struggle into a flow state on the steepest terrain.
The View From Above
Standing at the top of the Edelweiss Couloir, you’re right above Zermatt. Below, lies a 600-meter drop straight into the valley. It’s one of the most aesthetic lines facing the town—a steep, narrow throat that gradually mellows out as it widens into the trees near the bottom.
But the Edelweiss is rarely in good condition. It needs a specific recipe: fresh snow that has bonded well and is stable, low avalanche risk, and the right approach. When it works, it’s an amazing ride. When it doesn’t, it’s a trap.
But the Edelweiss is rarely in good condition. It needs a specific recipe: fresh snow that has bonded well and is stable, low avalanche risk, and the right approach. When it works, it’s an amazing ride. When it doesn’t, it’s a trap.
The Approach
The access is fairly straightforward if you know the way. You head toward the Edelweiss Hut, then take a sharp left after the big rock drop. But there’s a catch: there’s no direct exit before the end of the face—you’re committed. Around 6-8 meters from the bottom, you must make a sharp left turn to avoid a generous boulder that blocks the direct line. Miss that turn, and you’re in trouble.
The face itself is consistently steep—40 to 35 degrees from top to bottom. There are no flat sections to catch your breath. This is where the gear matters.
The face itself is consistently steep—40 to 35 degrees from top to bottom. There are no flat sections to catch your breath. This is where the gear matters.
The Wrong Snowshoes
On this particular day, I went with my friend Gama. He had asked me multiple times to ride this couloir together, and finally, the conditions aligned. We had 30-40 cm of fresh snow that had bounded and settled perfectly. It was ideal.
But Gama had a problem. He had no "verts"—the specific vertical snowshoes designed for steep ascents with crampon-like traction. He only had regular snowshoes, the kind meant for flat touring.
On the lower sections, he managed, but as we hit the steepest part of the face, the limitations of his gear became dangerous. The rockered tips of regular snowshoes are able to penetrate hard snow when the terrain is flat, but they’re not designed to climb steep faces. So while the rockered tips are useful in flat terrain, here, where it was very steep, they started to slide instead of biting in. Every time he took a step, he slipped back down.
I was on vertical snowshoes, making progress easily. Gama had ditched his snowshoes (they were simply not working) and was trying to use my steps, but the surface area of his boots was too small—he would break through the crust and sink straight to his hips. After ten minutes of this exhausting struggle, he was spent. It’s very hard to sustain that kind of effort for 500 or 600 vertical meters on 45-degree snow.
But Gama had a problem. He had no "verts"—the specific vertical snowshoes designed for steep ascents with crampon-like traction. He only had regular snowshoes, the kind meant for flat touring.
On the lower sections, he managed, but as we hit the steepest part of the face, the limitations of his gear became dangerous. The rockered tips of regular snowshoes are able to penetrate hard snow when the terrain is flat, but they’re not designed to climb steep faces. So while the rockered tips are useful in flat terrain, here, where it was very steep, they started to slide instead of biting in. Every time he took a step, he slipped back down.
I was on vertical snowshoes, making progress easily. Gama had ditched his snowshoes (they were simply not working) and was trying to use my steps, but the surface area of his boots was too small—he would break through the crust and sink straight to his hips. After ten minutes of this exhausting struggle, he was spent. It’s very hard to sustain that kind of effort for 500 or 600 vertical meters on 45-degree snow.
"If he had had the right snowshoes, we would have been up in half the time, without the rope, without the stress. 'Making do' in the backcountry often costs more energy than doing it right from the start."
The Rope As A Safety Net
I realized he couldn’t continue safely without help. If he slipped, he would slide a long way down.
So, I stopped, took out the rope, and placed some protection in the rock. I tied him in, not to pull him up, but to stop him if he slid. It gave us both peace of mind. Was it physical protection? Yes. But mostly, it was mental. It allowed him to focus on his footing without the fear of a 600-meter slide in the back of his mind.
We moved slowly. The rope slowed us down, but it got us to the top safely. It was a clear lesson: On steep terrain, the right gear isn’t about comfort; it’s about safety. If he had had the right snowshoes, we would have been up in half the time, without the rope, without the stress. "Making do" in the backcountry often costs more energy than doing it right from the start.
So, I stopped, took out the rope, and placed some protection in the rock. I tied him in, not to pull him up, but to stop him if he slid. It gave us both peace of mind. Was it physical protection? Yes. But mostly, it was mental. It allowed him to focus on his footing without the fear of a 600-meter slide in the back of his mind.
We moved slowly. The rope slowed us down, but it got us to the top safely. It was a clear lesson: On steep terrain, the right gear isn’t about comfort; it’s about safety. If he had had the right snowshoes, we would have been up in half the time, without the rope, without the stress. "Making do" in the backcountry often costs more energy than doing it right from the start.
The Reward
Once at the top, we took a nice break with some snacks. The view of Zermatt from above is stunning—a reminder of how high we had climbed.
Then, we dropped in.
The couloir rode perfectly. It started steep and narrow, demanding focus, then widened out into the trees, where we could open up the turns. It was super fun. The snow was light, consistent, and exactly what we had hoped for.
On this day, our friend Victor happened to be home in Zermatt and caught us on his telephoto lens. The light was a little flat, but the shots captured the scale of the line.
Then, we dropped in.
The couloir rode perfectly. It started steep and narrow, demanding focus, then widened out into the trees, where we could open up the turns. It was super fun. The snow was light, consistent, and exactly what we had hoped for.
On this day, our friend Victor happened to be home in Zermatt and caught us on his telephoto lens. The light was a little flat, but the shots captured the scale of the line.
The Link-Up
This line is iconic, but it can be even better. The next time I did it, I skied the Untergabelhorn east face first, then linked the bottom section with the Edelweiss. It made for probably one of the most fun human-powered rides you can have in Zermatt—a long, continuous descent that combines high-alpine exposure with fun tree skiing.
It’s even possible to combine this with a heli-skiing flight to the Aeshihorn if you’re lucky with conditions, turning a single couloir into a massive day.
It’s even possible to combine this with a heli-skiing flight to the Aeshihorn if you’re lucky with conditions, turning a single couloir into a massive day.
"In the mountains, the difference between a struggle and a flow often comes down to one thing: preparation."
Respect The Steep
The Edelweiss Couloir is a beautiful line, but it demands a lot of respect. It requires human power, good snow conditions on east exposed faces and lower altitudes (which is rare), and the right gear.
Be super careful with the snow and avalanche conditions. This face faces the town, so it gets sun and wind, and the snowpack can change quickly. But if you wait for the right day, bring the right tools, and move with care, it offers a ride that stays with you long after you’ve unstrapped your bindings in the valley.
In the mountains, the difference between a struggle and a flow often comes down to one thing: preparation. Gama learned that day that vertical snowshoes aren’t just an accessory—they are the key that unlocks the steep.
Be super careful with the snow and avalanche conditions. This face faces the town, so it gets sun and wind, and the snowpack can change quickly. But if you wait for the right day, bring the right tools, and move with care, it offers a ride that stays with you long after you’ve unstrapped your bindings in the valley.
In the mountains, the difference between a struggle and a flow often comes down to one thing: preparation. Gama learned that day that vertical snowshoes aren’t just an accessory—they are the key that unlocks the steep.