There were many ascents that summer, some with their daughters, others with friends, still more by themselves. On a bright day in early September they climbed the Dent Blanche. The views were magnificent and they spent a long time examining the nearby Dent d'Hérèns, the peak immediately west of the Matterhorn. The Dent d'Hérèns (4171 m) was one of the few summits in the Valais that they had not yet reached. Two attempts had failed on account of bad weather, and now the peak was high on their list.

On Monday, September 25, Dorly and Frédy left Survigne for a mountain tour in the Alps without telling anyone where they were going. They just had time for one last ascent before leaving on a trip to Buenos Aires and Santiago, where they planned to visit family and friends.

Tuesday was fine, and Wednesday dawned clear and sunny. Late in the afternoon, a sudden storm passed through the higher elevations, lasting into evening. Mariette was expecting a call from her parents Thursday night, and she was surprised when she did not hear from them. She thought it odd that no one answered the telephone at Survigne. Friday there was still no answer. By Saturday morning, Mariette and her sisters were frantic. They called several climbing friends to organize a rescue party, but where had Frédy and Dorly gone? Then Christiane recalled an offhand remark that Dorly had made about Aosta.

Early Sunday morning, ten cars pulled up to the central plaza in the Italian city of Aosta. Inside were all the people the sisters had been able to round up overnight. Many were climbers laden with rescue equipment, the rest friends and relatives who came to help in any way they could. Maps of the region were issued to the drivers, and then they fanned out to check the mountain roads and trailheads.

At noon, Dr. Bach found the Marmillods' car high in the Valpelline valley. So, they had headed for the Aosta Hut. Dr. Bach phoned the news down to the Army base outside of Aosta, where a helicopter remained on alert. Within a few minutes the chopper was on its way, carrying two Italian guides.

The crew flew directly to the hut but was unable to land on the moraine. As the helicopter hovered, one guide jumped out, sprinted into the hut for the register, and dashed back to the aircraft. There it was. Frédy had signed the register on Tuesday night. The helicopter flew up the mountain and about three-hundred vertical meters below the summit the crew spotted two figures on the glacier. It was impossible to land, and too windy to risk lowering a man on a cable. After circling for a few minutes, the chopper dropped away swiftly toward the army base.

The news was received by the hushed assemblage of friends and relatives waiting in Aosta; Frédy and Dorly lay frozen on the Dent d'Hérèns. Apparently they had been caught by the storm on Wednesday and forced to bivouac. When the guides reached them later, they found the couple had anchored themselves to their ice axes and laid down with their crampons still on. Frédy's head was resting against his hands and shoulder, like when he slept in a hut without a pillow. Dorly had snuggled up against his back. She often slept that way to keep warm because her circulation was not as good as his. They had no bivouac gear and must have succumbed quickly in the winds and low temperatures, estimated at -40 degrees Celsius. After a lifetime together, Dorly and Frédy died together doing what they loved.

A paper was found in the glove compartment of the car. It was an unfinished letter that Dorly had written to one of her daughters. "Tomorrow we will climb the Valpelline to reach the Aosta Hut," she wrote. "We very much wish to see the Dent d'Hérèns close at hand, this superb mountain that has not wanted us up to now."

A memorial service was held in Lausanne a few days later. Several hundred people attended, coming from every corner of Switzerland.

At Survigne, Janine, Christiane, and Mariette began the heartbreaking task of arranging and disposing of their parents' belongings. Janine's sons Marcel and Patrick were there too. The boys, ages 12 and 8, asked for their grandfather's rope. Janine gave it to them and went back to work. After a while she missed the boys, so she and her sisters began looking for them, first inside the house, then outside.

Survigne is built so that the roof slopes gently almost to the ground. The two boys had gone up on the roof and tied into the rope. One stood belaying the other, using the same stance and the same climbing signals as their grandfather. The sisters stood in silence watching from below. In that moment they did not see Marcel and Patrick on the roof, but themselves a generation earlier at the Sierra de la Ventana. The women silently returned inside and let the boys continue their play.

A month after the memorial service a crate was delivered to Survigne. Inside lay the granite statue of a marmot. Marmots had been one of Frédy and Dorly's favorite animals, symbolizing the peace and seclusion of the mountains. Dorly seemed to have had an affinity for them, and in spite of her short-sighted vision she often spotted them. The explanation for the animal was found among Frédy's papers: he had commissioned it that summer without telling anyone about it. A foundation was poured and the statue lovingly placed next to the garden as Frédy had wished. Standing erect and alert, the marmot looks past neatly-trimmed vineyards, over the village steeple, and beyond the shimmering waters of Lake Geneva until its sight comes to rest on peaks where glaciers sparkle in the sun.