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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #69128 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69128)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The making of a mountaineer, by George
-Ingle Finch
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: The making of a mountaineer
-
-Author: George Ingle Finch
-
-Release Date: October 10, 2022 [eBook #69128]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Amber Black, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
-             produced from images generously made available by The
-             Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF A
-MOUNTAINEER ***
-
-
-
-
-
-THE MAKING OF A MOUNTAINEER
-
-[Illustration: _Climbing the Matterhorn by the Zmutt ridge._
-
-“We had to cut steps across a wide ice slope” (_page 187_).
-
- _Frontispiece_
-]
-
-
-
-
-  THE MAKING
-  OF
-  A MOUNTAINEER
-
-  BY
-
-  GEORGE INGLE FINCH
-
-  WITH SEVENTY-EIGHT PHOTOGRAPHS, ONE DRAWING AND TWO DIAGRAMS
-
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  ARROWSMITH :: LONDON :: W.C.1
-
-
-
-
-  _First published in May, 1924_
-
-
-  Printed in Great Britain by
-  J. W. ARROWSMITH LTD.
-  11 Quay St. & 12 Small St., Bristol
-
-
-
-
-  To
-
-  MY WIFE
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-
-  CHAPTER                                                PAGE
-
-        PREFACE                                            11
-
-      I EARLY DAYS                                         13
-
-     II CLIMBING IN CORSICA                                20
-
-    III THE WETTERHORN                                     40
-
-     IV THE JUNGFRAU                                       52
-
-      V THE JUNGFRAU AND THE JUNGFRAUJOCH                  68
-
-     VI ON SKIS IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND                    82
-
-    VII ON SKIS IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND (_continued_)      95
-
-   VIII A WINTER’S NIGHT ON THE TÖDI                      107
-
-     IX THE BIFERTENSTOCK                                 122
-
-      X MONTE ROSA                                        140
-
-     XI THE TWINS                                         153
-
-    XII THE MATTERHORN--A BEGINNER’S IMPRESSIONS          164
-
-   XIII THE MATTERHORN                                    182
-
-    XIV THE DENT D’HÉRENS                                 193
-
-     XV MONT BLANC                                        213
-
-    XVI MONT BLANC FROM THE SOUTH                         227
-
-   XVII TWO CHAMONIX AIGUILLES                            248
-
-  XVIII THE AIGUILLE DU DRU                               269
-
-    XIX TOWARDS MOUNT EVEREST                             283
-
-     XX MOUNT EVEREST                                     296
-
-    XXI MOUNTAINEERING PHOTOGRAPHY                        335
-
-
-
-
-ILLUSTRATIONS
-
-
-  Climbing the Matterhorn by the Zmutt ridge       _Frontispiece_
-
-                                                           FACING
-                                                             PAGE
-
-  Rock-climbing                                                14
-
-  Crossing a steep snow slope                                  14
-
-  Scrambling in the range of the Tödi                          18
-
-  Climbing the Capo al Dente                                   24
-
-  The southern summit of Capo Tafonato                         28
-
-  The Cinque Fratri from below the Col de Foggiale             32
-
-  Paglia Orba from the Cinque Fratri                           36
-
-  Morning mists                                                44
-
-  Climbing down a steep ridge                                  48
-
-  The short cut--roping down                                   48
-
-  The north face of the Jungfrau                               52
-
-  The icefall of the Guggi Glacier                             56
-
-  “We basked on the roof of the Guggi hut”                     62
-
-  Cutting steps over the upper lip of a bergschrund            76
-
-  Evening storm                                                80
-
-  Morning calm                                                 80
-
-  The Eismeer icefall                                          86
-
-  Sounding a snowbridge                                        86
-
-  Cornices on the Punta Margherita                             98
-
-  A cornice on the Rôchefort ridge                             98
-
-  The Tödi                                                    108
-
-  The Tödi from the Bifertenlücke                             116
-
-  The summit of the Tödi                                      116
-
-  The Bifertenstock from the Bündner Tödi                     128
-
-  “... a faithful record of Forster’s blood-bespattered
-  condition”                                                  136
-
-  The east face of Monte Rosa                                 142
-
-  The Frisallücke                                             148
-
-  The Grenz Gipfel                                            150
-
-  The Val Sesia from Monte Rosa                               150
-
-  A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier                         154
-
-  Castor                                                      154
-
-  The Swiss ridge of the Matterhorn from the Matterhorn
-  hut                                                         166
-
-  The Swiss summit of the Matterhorn from the Italian
-  summit                                                      170
-
-  The summit of Mont Blanc in 1911                            170
-
-  Descending the Italian ridge                                174
-
-  The Matterhorn from the Dent d’Hérens                       178
-
-  The Matterhorn from the Stockje                             184
-
-  The Matterhorn at sunset                                    184
-
-  “... that tremendous overhang called the ‘Nose of
-  Zmutt’”                                                     186
-
-  An ice avalanche                                            196
-
-  The north face of the Dent d’Hérens, showing route
-  followed                                                    210
-
-  Back at the Schönbühl hut after the climb                   210
-
-  Mont Blanc from the Dôme hut                                218
-
-  Descending Mont Maudit                                      224
-
-  The Peuteret ridge from the Col du Géant                    224
-
-  Mont Blanc from the Val Veni                                228
-
-  The Innominata from the Col du Fresnay                      236
-
-  The Aiguilles Blanche and Noire de Peuteret                 244
-
-  “A traverse of about thirty yards across the steep western
-  flank of the Peuteret ridge....”                            244
-
-  Chamonix Aiguilles and Mont Blanc                           250
-
-  Descending the Grépon                                       250
-
-  A stiff chimney                                             250
-
-  A sérac                                                     254
-
-  “Two ladders tied together and laid across the chasm”       254
-
-  The summit of the Grépon                                    258
-
-  Good, sound rock                                            264
-
-  The bergschrund below the Dru                               270
-
-  Where next?                                                 272
-
-  “La Pendule”                                                274
-
-  “... A rather steep ice slope--the Mur de la Côte”          274
-
-  On the summit of the little Dru                             278
-
-  On the first day out from Phari Dzong                       290
-
-  Shekar Dzong                                                290
-
-  Mount Everest and the Base Camp                             294
-
-  Camp II.                                                    294
-
-  “A suitable slope was soon found”                           302
-
-  Amid the séracs of the East Rongbuk Glacier                 304
-
-  Crossing a trough on the East Rongbuk Glacier               304
-
-  Mount Everest from Camp III.                                306
-
-  The North Peak and the North Col Camp                       314
-
-  The North Peak from an altitude of nearly 24,500 feet on
-  Mount Everest                                               316
-
-  Mount Everest from the North Col, showing route             330
-
-  Monsoon clouds                                              330
-
-  On the return journey to the Base Camp                      332
-
-  In a mountain hut                                           336
-
-  The Aiguille du Géant                                       338
-
-  The Sella Pass                                              338
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE
-
-
-Man’s heritage is great. There are the mountains; he may climb them.
-Mountaineering is a game second only to the greatest and best of all
-man’s games--life.
-
-The War all but dried up the steady stream of youthful and enthusiastic
-devotees who kept alive and fresh the pursuit of mountain-craft. But
-fresh blood is as essential to the healthy life of mountaineering as
-it is to any other game, craft or pursuit, and, fortunately, there are
-cheerful signs that the after-effects of the War are fast becoming
-spent. Our youth is beginning to find the dancing floor, the tennis
-court and the playing fields of Great Britain too narrow, too lacking
-in scope, perhaps also a little bit too soft; and the craving grows for
-wider fields and a sterner, freer pastime.
-
-It is primarily for the members of the younger generation that
-this book has been written, in the hopes that, by affording them a
-glimpse of the adventurous joys to be found in the mountains, they
-may be encouraged to take up and try for themselves the pursuit of
-mountaineering.
-
-Portions of Chapters II and XVIII have appeared in the _Climber’s Club
-Journal_, Chapter VIII in the _British Ski Year Book_, and Chapters
-XIV and XVI in the _Alpine Journal_. Where not otherwise stated, the
-illustrations are from photographs by the Author.
-
-In conclusion, I would like to thank Captain T. G. B. Forster for the
-loan of four photographs; Mr. A. B. Bryn for one photograph; Mr. R.
-H. K. Peto for the pen-and-ink sketch of the east face of Monte Rosa
-and the drawing of an ice-axe; my brother for Chapter VIII; and last,
-but not least, my wife for her contribution, Chapter XII, and for the
-tireless pains she has taken in assisting me with the preparation and
-correction of the manuscript and proofs.
-
-I also wish to place on record my appreciation of what I owe to the
-inspiration and example of the _Alpine Journal_ and of Mr. Geoffrey
-Winthrop Young, and to the inspiring influence of Miss P. Broome.
-
-  10 GAINSBOROUGH MANSIONS,
-  LONDON, W.14,
-  _April, 1924_.
-
-
-
-
-THE MAKING OF A MOUNTAINEER
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-EARLY DAYS
-
-
-Some twenty-two years ago, on a dewy spring morning in October, I
-urged my panting pony towards a hill-top in the Australian bush, the
-better to spy out the whereabouts of a mob of wallaby. The last few
-feet of the ascent being too much for the pony, I dismounted and,
-leaving him behind, scrambled up a short, rocky chimney to the summit.
-The wallaby were nowhere to be seen; but my wondering eyes were held
-spell-bound by such a vision as I had never even dreamed of. Miles and
-miles away the white-washed roofs of the township of Orange gleamed
-brightly in the clear morning sunshine; the main roads converging
-upon the town showed sharp and distinct from out their setting in the
-rolling bush. The picture was beautiful: precise and accurate as the
-work of a draughtsman’s pen, but fuller of meaning than any map. I was
-just thirteen years old, and for the first time in my life the true
-significance of geography began to dawn upon me; and with the dawning
-was born a resolution that was to colour and widen my whole life.
-Before returning to my pony after this, my first mountain ascent, I had
-made up my mind to see the world; to see it from above, from the tops
-of mountains, whence I could get that wide and comprehensive view which
-is denied to those who observe things from their own plane.
-
-A year later my brother Maxwell and I, now proud possessors of Edward
-Whymper’s _Scrambles in the Alps_, emulated our hero’s early exploits
-by scaling Beachy Head by a particularly dangerous route, much to the
-consternation of the lighthouse crew and subsequent disappointment of
-the coastguards who arrived up aloft with ropes and rescue tackle just
-in time to see us draw ourselves, muddy and begrimed, over the brink
-of the cliff into safety. That climb taught us many things; amongst
-them, that a cliff is often more difficult to climb than would appear
-from below; that flints embedded in chalk are not reliable handholds,
-but sometimes break away when one trusts one’s weight to them; that
-there are people who delight in rolling stones down a cliff without
-troubling to see whether anyone is underneath; and that if it be good
-to look down upon the world, the vision is beautiful in proportion to
-the difficulties overcome in gaining the eminence. A few weeks later,
-an ascent of Notre-Dame by an unorthodox route might well have led to
-trouble, had it not been for the fact that the two gendarmes and the
-kindly priest who were the most interested spectators of these doings
-did not lack a sense of humour and human understanding. Then we passed
-through Basle into Switzerland, bitterly disappointed to find that
-the railway did not wind through dark, tortuous valleys bordered by
-glistening snow-capped mountains.
-
-That winter we broke bounds. Shod in the lightest of shoes, with
-clothing ill-suited to protect against wind, with walking sticks, and
-a pocketful of sandwiches we took the train to Wesen. There we bought
-a map and set off to climb the Speer, a mountain barely 6,000 feet
-in height, but nevertheless a formidable enough proposition for such
-an ill-equipped party in winter. All that day we struggled on, often
-knee-deep in snow. At dusk, still far from our goal, we sought refuge
-from the cold breezes of eventide. Letting ourselves in through the
-chimney hole in the roof of a snowed-up Alp hut, we bivouacked
-for the night. Shivering and sleepless we lay, watching the stars as
-they twinkled derisively in frosty clearness through the hole in the
-roof. After what seemed an eternity, morning came, and we plodded on
-with stiff and weary limbs to the summit. There, bathed in the warm
-sunshine, all hardships were forgotten, and we gazed longingly over to
-the ranges of the Tödi and the Glärnisch--real snow and ice mountains
-with great glaciers streaming down from their lofty crests. Thence the
-eye travelled away to the rich plains, the gleaming lakes and dark,
-forested hills of the lowlands, until details faded in the bluish
-mist of distance. Switzerland, a whole country, was at our feet. This
-escapade taught us further lessons: that mountaineering is a hungry
-game; that boots should be waterproof, and soles thick and studded with
-nails; that a thick warm coat can be an almost priceless possession.
-
-[Illustration:
-
- _Photo G. I. Finch._
-
-_Rock-climbing._
-
-_The rope is belayed over a projecting spike of rock._]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Photo T. G. B. Forster._
-
-_Crossing a steep snow slope._
-
-  _Facing page 14._
-]
-
-Then came a glorious summer vacation of fishing and sailing round the
-coast of Majorca, with hours of splendid clambering on the cliffs
-of Miramar, followed by a week with our tutor on the Pilatus. Our
-tutor was a sportsman, and we scrambled about together to our hearts’
-content, more than once sailing as close to the wind as any of us have
-ever done since. And yet again we had learned something: that the
-stockinged foot finds a firmer hold on dry limestone than a nailed
-boot; that wet limestone slabs are slippery and an abomination to be
-avoided; that the thrusting muscles of one’s legs are more powerful and
-more enduring than the pulling muscles of one’s arms; and that strong
-fingers are of more use in climbing than a pair of well-developed
-biceps.
-
-More holidays came and went: summers passed on the shores of the
-western Mediterranean, but Christmas vacations spent in Grindelwald,
-and devoted to learning the art of ski-ing. In Grindelwald we had the
-good fortune to win the liking of old Christian Jossi, in his day one
-of the greatest guides and best step-cutters in the Alps. He took us
-to the upper Grindelwald Glacier and on its mighty ice pinnacles, or
-séracs, taught us the elements of step-cutting in ice and the use of
-the rope. He showed us how to fashion a stairway in hard, blue ice, the
-floor of each step sloping inwards so that it was easy for one to stand
-securely. He showed us the points by which to judge of the merits of a
-good axe, how to hold and use it, and how, imitating him, to cut good
-safe steps with a minimum number of blows and expenditure of labour.
-He showed us how easy it is to check a slip and hold up a man on the
-rope provided it be kept always taut from man to man; and he did not
-hesitate to rub in, by demonstrations accompanied by much forceful
-language, what a fearful snare the rope could be if it were improperly
-used and permitted to be trailed loose and in coils between the various
-members of a party. He also pointed out some of the many varieties of
-snow: some good, in which on even the steepest slopes a kick or two
-sufficed to make a reliable step; others which could not be trusted
-on any but the gentlest of slopes and needing only a touch to start
-slithering down with an insidious hissing sound to form an avalanche
-which would sweep everything with it in its path of destruction. Last
-but not least, Christian Jossi instilled into us some of his own fervid
-love of the mountains and of mountain adventure.
-
-The summer holidays of 1906 drew nigh. Our longing for mountain
-adventure was no longer to be denied, and elders and betters had
-perforce to give way. But they enforced two provisos--we were to be
-accompanied by guides, and climbing was to be restricted to the lesser
-Alps of Northern Switzerland. We climbed a few lesser summits, all
-about 10,000 feet high; on none was there climbing where hands as well
-as feet were required, and not once did we see the axe used to cut a
-step. Efforts to wheedle our stalwart guardians into attacking the bold
-pyramid of the Segnes Tschingelhorn, always provocatively before our
-eyes, failed miserably; they had their instructions. But they could not
-always keep us in sight, and more than once, stealing forth alone, we
-found good climbing, adventure and untrammelled fun; and the desire to
-climb without guides was born in us.
-
-That winter the lesser peaks and passes of Grindelwald were visited
-on skis. A stern effort to gain the Strahlegg Pass was frustrated by
-a snowstorm in the teeth of which for nineteen hours on end we fought
-our way back to Grindelwald, having learnt that, with map and compass
-and given your bearings, bad weather in the mountains can be faced and
-even enjoyed if you only keep on moving and do not get flurried. We
-also knew now that boots should be large enough to enable two pairs of
-woollen socks to be worn without pinching the foot, and that toe-caps
-should be high and roomy so as not to interfere with the circulation.
-A sweater worn underneath a wind-proof jacket of sailcloth was found
-to be both lighter and much warmer than heavy tweeds through which the
-wind could blow and to which the snow would stick.
-
-From 1907 onwards until 1911, Max and I both studied in Zürich and
-were thus thrown into close and continual contact with the mountains,
-from which we were separated only by some three or four hours by rail.
-Barely a week-end went by without our taking train to the mountains and
-climbing. During the Easter holidays of 1907 we betook ourselves on
-skis up to the Clariden hut, one of the many little shelters built by
-the Swiss Alpine Club in the heart of the mountains. These huts are
-furnished with straw-filled sleeping bunks, blankets, a small cooking
-stove, a supply of wood, and cooking and eating utensils. We had with
-us provisions for a week, during the whole of which period the weather
-was fine and snow conditions at their best. We climbed almost all the
-surrounding summits, the return to the hut each evening taking the form
-of an effortless run on skis over the Clariden Glacier.
-
-During the summer vacation of the same year Max and I successfully
-obtained _carte blanche_ to climb without guides, and for nearly three
-months we roamed in and about the range of the Tödi. We climbed most
-of the summits in the range, including the Tödi itself, which with its
-11,800 feet of altitude was much the highest mountain so far grappled
-with. We always endeavoured to exercise every possible attention to the
-following out of the lessons hitherto learnt, losing no opportunity of
-acquiring fresh knowledge regarding matters of equipment, the handling
-of rope and axe, and the mountains themselves. In particular we aimed
-at cultivating a sense of route-finding and teaching ourselves how to
-use the map. The winter of that year saw us embarking upon expeditions
-of a more ambitious nature than those previously attempted. Up to
-the Easter of 1908 our most successful winter feat was an ascent of
-the Sustenhorn on skis; but during that vacation we accomplished the
-ascent of the Tödi, a winter expedition that even to-day is reckoned
-by no means a simple undertaking. As the summer holidays approached,
-a still more ambitious programme was drawn up. Our self-assurance,
-confidence--call it what you like--seems to have been boundless, for
-we now considered that our apprenticeship had been sufficiently long
-to justify us in letting ambitions soar into reality. The programme,
-although not carried out in its entirety, nevertheless proved a
-great success. Beginning with the Bernese Oberland, we climbed the
-Wetterhorn, were driven back by storm just below the summit of the
-Eiger, but followed up the reverse by climbing the Mönch, Jungfrau
-and Finsteraarhorn. Thence making our way down the Aletsch Glacier to
-the Rhône Valley, we went up to Zermatt. From there we climbed the
-Matterhorn and the Dent Blanche, then crossed over the Col d’Hérens
-to Arolla, where for the first time we experienced to the full the
-pleasures of traversing a mountain, that is, ascending by one route
-and descending by another. Amongst others, were traversed the Aiguille
-de la Za, the Aiguilles Rouges d’Arolla and the Pigne d’Arolla. The
-ascent of the last-named was made by cutting steps up the steep north
-face, and it was this climb more than any other that won me over to the
-delights of ice-climbing. Returning to Zermatt by various high-level
-passes, we journeyed northwards and wound up the season in the Tödi
-district, where all the major summits were traversed.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Photo T. G. B. Forster._
-
-_Scrambling in the range of the Tödi._
-
-  _Facing page 18._
-]
-
-Thus from its chance nucleus on the hill-top in the Australian bush,
-snowball-wise the zest for the mountains grew until it has actually
-become an integral part of life itself. The health and happiness that
-the passion has brought with it are as incalculable as the ways of
-the “divinity that shapes our ends,” chooses our parents for us, and
-places us in a certain environment. The love that Max and I have for
-the mountains I cannot but attribute to the fact that we were possessed
-of a father who taught us from our earliest years to love the open
-spaces of the earth, encouraged us to seek adventure and provided the
-wherewithal for us to enjoy the quest and, above all, looked to us to
-fight our own battles and rely on our own resources.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-CLIMBING IN CORSICA
-
-
-Comfortably seated in the depths of Bryn’s favourite and most
-somniferous chair, I browsed idly and half unthinkingly through the
-pages of a guide book that had found its way, as such things will,
-to my host’s address. Cynically amused as far as my sleepy condition
-would permit by the flights of verbal fancy to which compilers of
-guide books seem addicted, subconsciously certain plain, unbefrilled
-facts impressed themselves upon my mind and, eventually marshalling
-themselves, roused me out of my lethargy to a state bordering on
-excitement.
-
-“I’ve found it!” I shouted.
-
-Max and Bryn awoke, startled.
-
-“What, you fool?” they growled encouragingly.
-
-“Listen! It is easy of access, thinly populated, few tourists visit
-the interior, and it has mountains rising to 9,000 feet above
-sea-level; the very thing we are looking for.” Wide awake now, they
-were interested enough to ask where this Utopia was. Astonished at such
-crass ignorance, I answered, “Corsica, of course, fatheads!”
-
-It really was the very thing we had been looking for. The Christmas
-vacation of 1908 was just over. A few months ago Max and I had made the
-acquaintance of Alf Bonnvie Bryn, a Norwegian who, like ourselves, was
-studying in Zürich. Bound together by the common bond of enthusiasm
-for the mountains, the acquaintance rapidly ripened into friendship,
-and many were the pleasant evenings spent in each other’s rooms. The
-topic of conversation was always the same--mountaineering. Gradually
-our thoughts turned from other mountain groups more and more towards
-the Himalayas, and we decided some day to combine forces and carry
-out an expedition to this greatest of the world’s mountain ranges. As
-far as actual climbing was concerned, we considered that the Alps, as
-a training ground for Himalayan exploration, could not be bettered.
-But in one thing which would do much to make or mar the success of an
-exploring venture in these distant ranges, we could look to the Alps
-for little assistance. That was organisation, particularly with respect
-to food and equipment. In the Alps, a mistake or omission of detail in
-either of these things can be remedied by a descent into the valley,
-involving a loss of not more than a day or so of climbing time. But for
-the Himalayas we judged that it would be essential to have everything
-that one would want with one. Mistakes or omissions would not be easily
-rectified after one had left one’s base, usually the last outpost of
-civilization and, even as such, devoid of many of the necessities for
-mountaineering. From the base onwards one would have to rely entirely
-upon one’s own resources. These considerations drove us to a decision
-to spend the Easter vacation in some remote part of Europe; Switzerland
-would be our advanced base, and the chosen field of our activities a
-wilder territory to which we would not look for supplies of either food
-or equipment. Where was such a territory to be found? The more remote
-mountains of Norway were ruled out on account of the earliness of the
-season. Considerations of distance, and therefore of time and expense,
-militated against our going to the Sierra Nevada or the Balkans. Our
-mental state was one of puzzled despair until by chance the little
-guide book of Corsica insinuated itself into my attention.
-
-Early in March, 1909, we set to work to put our equipment in order,
-making sleeping-bags and a tent and buying tinned foods. The latter
-were selected with a view to nourishing value, variety, compactness
-and minimum of weight. By the middle of the month our preparations
-were almost complete. A few days afterwards, Bryn and I set off for
-Corsica, leaving Max, whose studies kept him in Zürich for the time
-being, to join us at a later date. We travelled by rail through the St.
-Gotthard _via_ Milan and Genoa to Leghorn, embarking there for Bastia.
-The five-hour crossing on a crazy little cargo boat was rough and
-uncomfortable, and we both dwelt at some length and with much feeling
-upon the foolishness of setting out on our little expedition instead
-of spending the holidays in comparative luxury in Switzerland. But
-when, at sunset, loomed up the snow-capped summits of the bold mountain
-chain that forms the backbone of the long promontory of Cap Corse, our
-optimism returned. The first difficulties on landing were those created
-by Customs officials. On explaining quite frankly the object of our
-visit, however, they informed us ecstatically that Corsica was the most
-beautiful country in the world and that we would be sure to enjoy our
-stay there--and passed our stores free of duty! Such patriotism created
-a first good impression of the inhabitants, which we saw no reason
-later to alter. The Corsicans received us with nothing but the utmost
-kindness throughout our stay on the island.
-
-The following day was spent in purchasing maps and drawing up plans.
-According to the maps, Calacuccia appeared to be the Zermatt of
-Corsica, so to Calacuccia we forwarded most of our stores. Leaving
-the greater part of the remainder in the simple little auberge, the
-Hôtel des Voyageurs, which was our headquarters in Bastia, we set out
-to walk and climb over the whole length of the range of mountains in
-the promontory of Cap Corse. Though none of these peaks exceed 4,300
-feet in height, nevertheless, owing to the close proximity of the sea,
-they appear high. But their chief appeal to us was that they afforded
-magnificent views into the mountains of the north-west interior of the
-island, where we expected to find the best climbing. The main groups
-centre round Monte Cinto which, rising to 8,900 feet above sea-level,
-is the highest summit in Corsica. Standing well away to the north of
-the main mass was one bold rock needle that attracted our attention.
-With the aid of compass and map, we identified this point as being the
-Capo al Dente, a peak some 7,000 feet in altitude, and decided to lay
-siege to it before going to Calacuccia, especially as we had every
-reason to believe that it had not been climbed. Back again in Bastia,
-we packed up our remaining stores, sufficient for ten days, and took
-train to Palasca, a station on the line between Bastia and Calvi. In
-Palasca we were fortunate in securing the services of a mule and his
-driver. I say “fortunate,” for our knapsacks, containing sleeping-bags,
-spare clothing, ropes, cooking apparatus, cameras and food, weighed
-over 80 lbs. each. The mule proved more willing than his master. Our
-way to the Val Tartagine, at the head of which the Capo al Dente lies,
-led over a number of passes the crossing of which involved a good deal
-of uphill and downdale walking. The mule-driver’s strength never seemed
-equal to any of the rises, as he would persist in sitting on the mule.
-The upshot was that ere half our thirty-mile journey was accomplished
-the poor little animal struck work and refused to go an inch farther.
-There was nothing to do but dismiss both driver and mule and shoulder
-our burdens ourselves. We struggled on all day, steering for the most
-part by map. It was a painful business. The knapsacks were inordinately
-heavy, and their narrow straps bit cruelly into our shoulder muscles.
-At sunset, completely exhausted and feeling incapable of moving another
-step, we unpacked the sleeping-bags by the banks of a spring and, after
-cooking a meal, slept such a sleep as falls to the lot of few.
-
-On the following day we crossed the last pass and dropped down into
-the Tartagine Valley. At the entrance to the valley stood a forester’s
-cottage. The forester and his wife refused to allow us to pass without
-first partaking of their hospitality. Like all Corsicans, they spoke a
-good French as well as the peculiar dialect of their country, a mixture
-of French and Italian. Here, as elsewhere in the island, we met with
-nothing but courtesy and kindness. In response to anxious inquiries,
-our host assured us that the Capo al Dente had never been climbed. From
-his house we could see it, a wonderful rock pinnacle bearing a certain
-resemblance to the Aiguille du Dru and standing up boldly at the very
-head of the valley. In the afternoon we took our leave and followed a
-diminutive track leading along the right bank of the Tartagine River.
-
-At an altitude of about 4,000 feet above sea-level, above the snow-line
-which at this season of the year extends to below 3,000 feet, we
-found a suitable camping site, a huge rock platform on the face of
-a cliff. It was sheltered from the wind on three sides and, being
-partially overhung, might also be expected to be protected in the
-event of snow or rain falling. For nine nights we camped on this spot.
-The cold during the long hours of darkness was bitter and ruthlessly
-demonstrated the flaws in the design of our sleeping-bags. Day after
-day we made our way up to the head of the valley and searched in vain
-for a route up the black cliffs of the Capo al Dente. On the ninth day
-we at last espied a diminutive crack threading the first hundred feet
-of the precipitous lower ramparts of the mountain. We had discovered
-the solution to the problem. Within an hour of effecting a lodgment on
-the rock we had gained the summit and felt truly recompensed for those
-long, cold nights of shivering endured in camp. The climbing had been
-steep but by no means excessively difficult.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Photo A. B. Bryn._
-
-_Climbing the Capo al Dente._
-
-“... we espied a diminutive crack ... the solution to the problem.”
-
-  _Facing page 24._
-]
-
-There is a peculiar charm about the view from the summits of these
-Corsican mountains. They have the lure of sea cliffs. From most of them
-you look down upon the ocean. From the Capo al Dente we could see the
-tiny little harbour of Calvi and, fascinated, follow the movements of
-a Lilliputian steamer that was leaving on its voyage over the smooth,
-broad, blue expanse of the Mediterranean. To the south the great range
-of the Cinto reared its snow-clad, precipitous peaks, and, looking, we
-felt satisfied that, in coming to Corsica in quest of mountaineering
-adventure, we had made no false step. Flanking the Val Tartagine were
-other mountains of interest, such as Monte Corona and Monte Padro; but
-our provisions were almost at an end. In any case, time was up, for we
-had arranged to meet Max in Calacuccia on April 5.
-
-It took us two days to regain the railway at Ponte Leggia, and for
-those two days our sole provisions consisted of rather less than a
-pound of porridge and a little tea and sugar; a fault in organisation
-to which we frankly confessed at the little station restaurant at Ponte
-Leggia by purchasing several square meals rolled into one. On April 4
-we arrived at Calacuccia. Max joined us on the 5th, and the following
-days were spent in exploring the Cinto group to the north-west of
-Calacuccia and in selecting a suitable site for a camp. Eventually our
-choice fell upon the Viro Valley which, in an island rich in the beauty
-of rugged mountain scenery and wild vegetation, is one of the grandest
-and most charming.
-
-On April 10 we left the little Hôtel des Voyageurs, where we had
-received much kindness at the hands of the proprietress, Madame Veuve
-Lupi. A mule and his driver were entrusted with kit and provisions--a
-heavy load. The mule was lazy and needed much and continual urging.
-The Corsicans seldom strike their animals. If a grumbling “Huh!
-Huh!” has not the desired effect, the driver spits on the mule’s
-hindquarters--and a trot is almost invariably the result. As a rule,
-a whip is worse than useless; it only produces a wild fit of panicky
-bucking. The day was hot and sultry. The mule-driver had soon emptied
-his wine-flask and, as he disdained to allay his thirst with the
-crystal-clear water of the many mountain streams we passed, his supply
-of saliva eventually failed. The pace of the mule fell off accordingly.
-
-At Albertacce, a hamlet near the entrance of the Viro Valley, we halted
-to pay our respects to the priest, who was also head man of the place,
-and make arrangements about our mail. Before we had taken our leave,
-the rumour had spread that we were skilled physicians, and we had to
-resign ourselves to treating nearly half the inhabitants for all manner
-of ills, imaginary and real. Sodium bicarbonate, bismuth subnitrate,
-calomel or quinine were administered in homœopathic doses. A week
-later, homeward-bound, we returned through Albertacce and had thrust
-upon us the homage and thanks of the entire population. The prescribed
-treatment had, in every single case, effected a complete cure--another
-example of how a reputation may be made.
-
-Half an hour below the selected camping site, patches of snow were met
-with. The first extensive snow patch proved too much for both mule
-and driver. The Corsicans have a real terror of walking in snow; they
-fear that at any moment they may sink in and be suffocated. So we had
-to dismiss our burden bearers and make shift to carry our loads into
-camp ourselves. In the heart of the forest, on a little snow-free plot
-of ground hard by the left bank of the river, we pitched the tent. To
-the south-west rose the great precipices of Paglia Orba, the grandest
-summit in the great chain of mountains which in the form of a gigantic
-horseshoe shuts in the valley of the River Viro.
-
-On the following day at 8 a.m. we left camp, crossed the foaming
-waters of the torrent--not without getting more or less drenched in
-the process--and spent the next two hours in steadily plodding up the
-snow slopes to the Col de Foggiale,[1] a depression on the ridge south
-of Paglia Orba. The work at first was distinctly hard, for the surface
-crust of frozen snow was not always sufficiently strong to bear one’s
-weight. As the lower mountain slopes in Corsica are usually covered
-with a dense undergrowth or _maquis_, breaking the snow crust meant
-plunging right through into a thick tangle of vegetation, extrication
-from which was possible often only after a struggle. Higher up,
-fortunately, the snow became firmer and we seldom broke through. The
-approach to the col was defended by a huge overhanging cornice of
-snow through which we had to tunnel a way with the axe. The charm of
-the view from the col lay in the contrast between the whiteness of
-snow-covered mountain and the deep blue of sea. Capo Tafonato (7,700
-feet), however, a mountain whose praises we had often read, presented
-a disappointing appearance. Judging from the map, we had expected to
-see it standing boldly up in front of us on the far side of a fairly
-wide valley. It stood, however, a low rock ridge possessing no daring
-outlines and partially hidden behind Paglia Orba. Nevertheless, two
-features commanded our respect; no snow was lying on the peak, a sign
-that the wall opposite us was very steep; and we could see right
-through a tremendous hole or natural tunnel which pierced the mountain
-from one side to the other, indicating that the unseen side was also
-steep and that the summit ridge must be proportionately narrow. After
-a short rest, we traversed over frozen snow slopes round the base of
-Paglia Orba to the gap between it and Capo Tafonato. Here we had a
-short discussion as to the route to be followed, finally deciding to
-take the right hand or north ridge straight up from the gap and to
-traverse the whole mountain from north to south. We roped and were soon
-at work climbing the very steep and firm rocks. Following a spiral
-staircase of easy chimneys and ledges round the northern, the higher
-of the two summits, we reached the top after an hour’s brisk climbing.
-After a brief halt to gaze down over the tremendous precipices of the
-west face towards the sea, we re-arranged the rope and set off to make
-an attack on the gap of formidable appearance that separated us from
-the southern summit. This looked just like a much magnified blunt
-needle point. To our surprise we were able to descend into the gap
-without encountering any serious difficulty, and followed the extremely
-narrow, but on the whole easy, ridge to the southern summit which was
-crowned by a diminutive cairn. Now followed a descent into another
-gap over very rotten rocks and an imposing, but easy, _gendarme_.[2]
-All the while we could not help admiring the steepness and depth of
-the walls on the western side of the mountain. Soon after passing the
-_gendarme_, we came to a great overhanging buttress in the ridge,
-at the top of which a hanging coil of rope indicated that the last
-climbers to descend here had made use of the doubled rope. The coil
-was thin and bleached with exposure, so we cut it off and stowed it in
-our rucksacks as a trophy, to be returned, if possible, to its late
-owners. We fixed a new coil, passed our rope through it and slid down
-some fifty feet on to an uncomfortably sloping ledge. Here we found
-driven into a crack in the rock a large, rusty iron nail to which some
-coils of strong, silken cord were attached. Threading the rope through
-these, we again slid down about sixty feet to a broad snow ledge on the
-east face. After hauling down the rope, we followed the continuation of
-this ledge in a northerly direction and gained the floor of the immense
-tunnel that pierces Cape Tafonato from east to west. A series of ledges
-and chimneys brought us safely back to the gap where the climb had
-begun, the whole traverse having taken nearly five hours.
-
-[Illustration: _The southern summit of Capo Tafonato._
-
-“... like a much magnified blunt needle point.”
-
-  _Facing page 28._
-]
-
-After a hasty but enjoyable meal of chocolate, sardines, and tea, we
-set off on the return journey. The descent to the Col de Foggiale round
-the foot of Paglia Orba was most enjoyable in the evening sun, whose
-golden reflection shimmered in the distant gulfs of the coast. We
-passed the cornice on the col without jumping and managed, in spite of
-the soft snow, to glissade almost half-way down to the tent. We arrived
-back in camp about half an hour after sunset. The night was fine,
-though cold, but we slept well, for we had earned our sleep with a good
-hard day’s work.
-
-April 12 was spent in recuperating from the effects of the previous
-day’s labours. In fact, during our whole stay in Corsica we were
-generally forced to sandwich our climbs with a generous number of
-off-days. Our food, consisting mainly of preserves brought out from
-Switzerland, certainly disagreed with one and all of us; by which it is
-not to be inferred that the quality of the food was at fault. It was
-the nature of the food that was wrong. Our dietary was totally lacking
-in fresh vegetables and, indeed, fresh food stuffs of any kind; an
-omission which probably explains our general state of unfitness.
-
-During the night of April 12 to 13 a west wind set in and towards
-morning became so violent that the tent several times threatened to
-leave its moorings. The weather, however, was otherwise fine, so we
-decided to make an attempt at traversing the five peaks of the Cinque
-Fratri, the highest of which is about 6,500 feet. After numerous
-efforts to shake off a certain lethargy which gripped us all, we at
-length stumbled off in three detachments, at intervals of ten minutes.
-The aim of each detachment was to meet the other two in the gap to the
-south of the fifth and lowest Frater. This we eventually succeeded in
-doing, though each took a different route up. We roped in the col,
-Max being given the lead, an honour which he repaid by dropping a pot
-of honey and a loaf of bread on Bryn’s head and mine in the course
-of the ascent. The tie-strings of his knapsack had been too weak.
-From the gap we traversed round on to the east face of the peak and
-climbed directly upwards through the great chimney which runs down it
-from the summit. The climax of the ascent was provided by a somewhat
-narrow pitch in this chimney, where you encounter a bush of prickles,
-roll in them on your back, kick with one leg against each wall of the
-cleft and then swing out on to the exposed and very steep ridge on
-the right. This brings one to an easy slope of loose stones leading
-to the summit. Bryn and I, of course, went to sleep, leaving Maxwell
-to confide a slip of paper containing our names to the care of the
-newly-built cairn--a reprehensible form of vice to which in those days
-we were much addicted. Presently he stirred us up, driving fresh life
-and energy into us with the business end of his Anthanmatten ice-axe,
-and we obediently scrambled down to the gap between Fratri Nos. 5 and
-4. Maxwell was again delegated to pull the two sleep-walkers up Frater
-No. 4. He chose the easier, direct way and energetically pulled us up
-a few steep cracks, slabs and chimneys, in the hope of rousing us. A
-vain hope, for, arrived on the summit, we immediately sought out a
-spot that was sheltered from the wind and were soon deep in slumber
-once more. All too quickly came another rude awakening at Max’s hands,
-and we again moved off. A few feet below the summit we were baulked at
-the edge of an overhanging wall. With some difficulty we contrived to
-fasten a coil of thin rope round a large block. Maxwell descended first
-and succeeded in climbing nearly all the way, though most of his verbal
-messages and directions were borne off by the wind, with the result
-that the rope was always slack when he wanted it taut and nearly always
-pulling him up again while he was climbing an easy bit. Then came my
-turn. I found the descent distinctly easy and pleasant, for, still half
-asleep, I allowed myself to hang free all the way, leaving the work of
-lowering me down to Bryn who found me rather heavy. After sending down
-his axe and rucksack, Bryn soon joined us, and we romped up the easy
-Frater No. 3. Passing another gap, Frater No. 2 speedily succumbed to
-our united attack.
-
-The next gully, that between Fratri Nos. 2 and 1, and running down the
-south wall of the mountain, is most remarkable. Very narrow and steep,
-with deep, clean-cut walls, it should afford some first-rate climbing.
-The descent from Frater No. 1, the highest of these peaks, to the gap
-between it and Monte Albano provided another occasion for cutting off
-a loop from the spare rope and roping down. The wall here is very
-steep, and composed in the main of loose and treacherous rocks. I went
-down first and photographed the others struggling to descend, almost
-expecting to see them at any moment blown away with a piece of rock in
-each hand, so buffeted about were they by the gale.
-
-Traversing round the southern base of Monte Albano, we struck some
-abominably slushy snow slopes through which we ploughed a way, finally
-stumbling through _maquis_ and loose stones into the welcome haven
-of our camp. After a grand five-course dinner, we settled ourselves
-comfortably in the tent and talked over deeds and memories until,
-wearied out, we quietly dozed off.
-
-Wednesday, April 14, was destined to be another lazy day. It was
-Maxwell’s turn to prepare breakfast, and in due course Bryn and I
-kicked him out of the tent. Unfortunately we neglected to hang on to
-his sleeping-bag, with the result that when we two began sleepily
-foraging for something to allay the pangs of hunger, we found our cook
-snugly asleep. With eating and sleeping, with roasting in the sun and
-cooling in the shade of the forest and in the icy waters of the Viro,
-time passed away pleasantly enough, but all too quickly. After such a
-glorious rest, we were ready and anxious to grapple with the hardest
-problem the mountains of Corsica could offer us. Owing to the ease
-with which we had been able to scramble over Capo Tafonato and the
-Cinque Fratri, we were beginning to despair of finding a really
-difficult climb and had reached a stage where we were ready to tackle
-any projected route, no matter how difficult it appeared from afar. In
-short, we were in need of proof that one could meet with a really tough
-job amongst the cliffs of Corsica’s mountains.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Camp._
-
-_The Cinque Fratri from below the Col de Foggiale._
-
-_The Cinque Fratri, I. to V., are the rock peaks to the right of Monte
-Albano, the highest summit seen._
-
-  _Facing page 32._
-]
-
-More than a week ago, on the occasion of an ascent of Monte Albano,
-Bryn and I had admired the boldly soaring outlines of Paglia Orba
-(8,300 feet). In particular the clean-cut, awe-inspiring precipices
-of the north-east face drew our attention. A prolonged inspection of
-this huge wall revealed two apparently weak points. The one was formed
-by a series of snow patches indicating ledges, probably connected by
-small cracks or chimneys and ledges invisible to us from a distance.
-The whole series formed a huge C in white on a background of black
-rock. A snow field on the summit of Paglia Orba formed the head of the
-C-ledge, while the lower end began about eight or nine hundred feet
-lower down and about half-way up the upper, more or less perpendicular,
-wall. Several larger snow patches indicated a possible connection
-between the foot of the C and the gentler slopes below the great final
-wall. The other weak point was indicated by a deep shadow, betraying
-the presence of a chimney, joining the summit snows with a small snow
-patch in the wall some thousand feet below the top. On the east face,
-which offers no absolutely blank and perpendicular walls comparable
-with those of the impressive north-east face, we could see plenty of
-easy ways of gaining the summit. They threatened to be rather dull and
-uninteresting; so, in the hopes of finding a day’s difficult work, we
-determined to finish up our climbs in the range of the Cinto with an
-attack on the north-east face of Paglia Orba.
-
-After a sumptuous breakfast of porridge and coffee we left camp at
-8.15 a.m. on April 15. We followed the stream for some ten minutes
-then, crossing it near a dilapidated cow-shed, set to work to plod
-up the snow slopes leading to the north-east wall. We took turns of
-an hour each to break trail, for the snow was already soft. As far
-as possible keeping to the rocks that here and there cropped out of
-the snow, we rose fairly rapidly. By 10 a.m. we were on a level with
-the lowest of the Cinque Fratri. Half an hour later we began climbing
-hand and foot up broken rocks to the right of some steep snow slopes.
-In order to save time, and being sure of ourselves, we did not use
-the rope. To avoid an overhang just below the top of these rocks, we
-were forced to cross under a small waterfall which thoroughly drenched
-us. Thence mounting a very steep snow slope, we gained the narrow,
-heavily corniced crest of a minor ridge which seemed to descend from
-the beginning of the great C-ledge. The work ahead looked serious. We
-roped, Bryn being invested with the responsibilities of leadership. The
-fun began at once. Difficult chimneys, choked with masses of snow and
-ice, alternated with small snow slopes lying at a dangerously steep
-angle. Good belays were generally conspicuous by their absence. At 1
-p.m., having risen some six hundred feet above where the rope had been
-put on, we were pulled up short by a smooth wall which appeared to bar
-all possible access to the foot of the C-ledge. We were on the upper
-edge of a comparatively large snow slope of triangular shape which
-had been clearly visible from our camp. We knew that the foot of the
-C-ledge was some two hundred and fifty feet, the summit itself over a
-thousand feet above us. The way up those two hundred and fifty feet
-seemed all too well guarded. To right and left, the ledge supporting
-our snow patch ran out into smooth, perpendicular walls. We were
-standing on the upper rim of the ledge in a position which, owing to
-the lack of any belay whatsoever, was by no means too secure. A chimney
-led up presumably to the foot of the C-ledge. The first few feet
-appeared to be extremely difficult, and the leader would undoubtedly
-have needed the assistance of the other two if he were to tackle it
-with any hope of success. Higher up, the chimney looked even worse and
-was finally blocked by a huge, ice-covered, overhanging chock-stone.
-Far above we could see the icicle-fringed summit of Paglia Orba, from
-which water trickled down. Occasionally icicles broke away and fell
-_past_ us, proving the wall above to be overhanging. Some two hundred
-feet from our standpoint a part of the wall had broken away, leaving a
-huge overhanging platform which would have made an excellent site for a
-bivouac if only the mountain had been turned upside down.
-
-Whilst munching some bread and chocolate we had ample time to review
-our surroundings thoroughly. We made the best use of our opportunities,
-the more so as we were beginning to think this was to be the highest
-point of the day’s climb. We knew that the Austrian climber, Herr
-Albert Gerngross, and his guide, Konrad Kain, had attempted the climb
-during the previous year; also, Dr. von Cube, a well-known pioneer
-of climbing in Corsica, had referred to the wall in terms of the
-impossible. At present, after a lengthy inspection, we were scarcely
-in the mood to disagree with him. Finally, admitting defeat, we turned
-to descend. When almost a rope’s length down the now dangerously soft
-snow slope, I remembered having omitted to photograph the ledge running
-out to the right. I halted a moment and asked Bryn to use his camera
-to save me the trouble of reascending. To obtain a better view, Bryn
-carefully crawled out along the ledge in the opposite direction. This
-chance move saved the day, for, some ten feet above his standing-point,
-Bryn now caught sight of another ledge which would enable us to enter
-the chimney above the most difficult pitch. On hearing this welcome
-news I rejoined the others with all possible haste, and together
-Maxwell and I shouldered Bryn up on to the newly-discovered ledge.
-Once on this, Bryn made rapid progress. Maxwell followed, and, after
-a struggle, I arrived to find that they were already attacking
-the chimney immediately below the huge, ice-covered chock-stone.
-The climbing had now become extremely difficult. Bryn rounded the
-chock-stone by climbing out of the chimney over some precipitous slabs
-to the right, finally gaining the upper level of the chock-stone. A
-period of intense anxiety followed upon our rejoining Bryn. Should we
-have to return or could we push through? A series of short snow-filled
-chimneys and ledges led up and round several corners. Each time on
-clearing one corner we could overlook only the ground as far as the
-next. But whether we were getting nearer to the summit or to a forced
-bivouac still remained to be seen. At last we gained the beginning of
-the C-ledge. On following this, though not without difficulty because
-of its incline, we saw that it was broken off at the foot of the huge
-chimney previously considered as possibly affording an alternative
-route to the summit. We now perceived, however, that the chimney was
-formed by a clean-cut buttress jutting out at right angles from the
-wall, and that it overhung considerably. Bryn crossed the chimney and,
-by climbing a very difficult and exposed series of cracks in its left
-wall overhanging an appallingly steep precipice, regained the C-ledge.
-“How’s the view?” we called out from below in one breath. Once again
-we only learn that the climb can be continued to the next corner. While
-Maxwell was rejoining Bryn he had the misfortune to drop his axe. It
-fell, providentially without once striking rock, into a tiny patch of
-snow some eighty feet lower down the big chimney. Maxwell and Bryn
-lowered me down until I could reach it, and then unmercifully hauled me
-up to their perch without giving me the least opportunity of climbing.
-Exercising the utmost care, we proceeded along a series of highly
-sensational ledges leading in an almost unbroken line from corner to
-corner. All the time belays were few and small. On rounding what proved
-to be the last corner, we saw before us a broad chimney which was
-choked by what resembled a frozen waterfall crowned by a huge cornice.
-The sun shining on the cornice told us we were at last approaching the
-north-east ridge where we could expect easier climbing. What appeared
-to be an excellent belay enabled us to pay out Bryn’s rope with some
-measure of security as, crouching, he followed the ledge to its extreme
-end. The sloping floor of the ice-choked chimney was about two yards
-from the end of the ledge on which we stood. Far below could be seen
-our tracks in the snowfields, but of the wall beneath we were only able
-to imagine the appearance. Altogether, even a climber could hardly
-conceive of a more exposed spot.
-
-[Illustration: _Paglia Orba from the Cinque Fratri._
-
-_The C-ledge is visible on the dark rock precipice immediately below
-the summit._
-
-  _Facing page 36_
-]
-
-Bryn took the fateful step from the ledge to the chimney and was soon
-mixed up in the intricacies of the frozen waterfall, whose icicles were
-clustered together like the pipes of an organ. Skilfully cutting his
-way diagonally from left to right across them, he succeeded in finding
-a comparatively firm position whence he was able to take in Maxwell’s
-rope with his teeth and left hand, as the latter made the wide and
-difficult step from the end of the ledge to the foot of the waterfall.
-To add to the insecurity of the situation, the belay on the ledge
-proved worthless; it broke off as I was testing it, and nothing would
-have saved us in the event of a slip. The following fifteen minutes
-were indeed anxious ones. I contrived to make myself fairly comfortable
-on the ledge, but poor Maxwell, standing in a very shaky step and
-hanging on to an icicle, had patiently to submit to freezing while
-fragments of ice and snow were showered on him by Bryn’s hard-working
-axe. At last Bryn had come to the end of his rope, but there were
-still six feet separating him from the nearest belay at the top of the
-waterfall and almost directly under the cornice. During a moment of
-suspense both he and Maxwell had to climb together. Then, just as the
-latter began to tackle the worst bit of all, Bryn reached the belay
-and firm footing. We soon joined him, though not without thoroughly
-appreciating the great difficulties of the pitch. We avoided cutting
-through the cornice by climbing two short but stiff chimneys to the
-right of and above the frozen waterfall, and at 5.15 p.m. were beyond
-the bend of the great C-ledge, with only easy, though steep, rocks
-between us and the summit. Feeling that we were now safe from a forced
-bivouac, that constant nightmare of the last five hours, we indulged in
-a brief rest. While swallowing a mouthful of chocolate and dry bread we
-reviewed the many little episodes, exciting moments, disappointments
-and hopes of the last two hours. But so far the sun had eluded us. When
-we first viewed the frozen waterfall the sun was shining on the cornice
-above; now it had disappeared to the other side of the mountain in its
-haste to sink into the Mediterranean, for we had taken over two hours
-to master the last hundred feet. Anxious to get warmed in its last
-rays, we began work once more. The climb up the final rocks was pure
-joy; the plentiful handholds were still quite warm, and their touch
-was as welcome to our frozen fingers as the iced handholds had before
-been painful. We rose very rapidly and at 6 p.m. stepped out on to the
-top of Paglia Orba. A strong westerly wind somewhat counterbalanced the
-warming effect of the setting sun, but no discomfort could detract from
-the pleasure we all felt at the success of the day’s venture.
-
-The summit of Paglia Orba is covered by a large snow field (at least,
-as long as the snow lasts) sloping down from the north to south and
-east. As near to the highest point as possible we built a little cairn,
-within which we hid a piece of paper giving our names and a description
-of the route and times of the ascent. To indicate the spot to future
-climbers we wound a piece of spare rope round the rock. Pausing once
-more to look down the wonderful precipice of the north-east face, we
-re-arranged the rope and set off towards the Col de Foggiale. We soon
-came upon a steep gully filled with firm, frozen snow and descended
-the first few feet cutting steps. Then, glissading down to the col, we
-dropped over the cornice and slid or ran down to the river and, wading
-through, regained our camp at 7.30 p.m., just one hour and a quarter
-after leaving the summit.
-
-Our success was suitably celebrated by a _grand bal masqué_, followed
-up with the most glorious dinner of our lives. Two days later we struck
-camp and, casting many a look back towards the noble form of Paglia
-Orba, that Matterhorn of Corsica, slowly filed out of the Viro Valley
-towards Calaccucia, Corte, Ajaccio, and home, bidding Corsica _au
-revoir_ but not adieu!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[1] Col is a French term denoting a depression on a ridge connecting
-two summits.
-
-[2] A rock pinnacle on a ridge.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-THE WETTERHORN
-
-
-Grindelwald, the most popular of the climbing centres of the Bernese
-Oberland, is dominated by the Eiger and the Wetterhorn. The former is
-so close to the village that, owing to foreshortening, much of the
-majesty of its huge precipices is lost to the casual observer below.
-But the Wetterhorn, standing well back at the head of the valley, its
-great limestone cliffs surmounted by terraced glaciers upon which the
-snow-capped summit cone is so gracefully poised, has long appealed to
-the artist--so much so, indeed, that the view of the Wetterhorn from
-Grindelwald vies for pride of place with those of the Jungfrau from the
-Wengernalp and of the Matterhorn from the Riffel Alp.
-
-My first climbing acquaintance with the Wetterhorn was destined to be a
-rude one. My brother Max and I had, for five seasons, served a faithful
-apprenticeship to mountaineering in the lesser Alps of Northern
-Switzerland and, long before the arrival of the summer vacation of
-1908, had drawn up the plan of an ambitious climbing campaign which,
-beginning with the Wetterhorn, should lead us over the principal peaks
-of the Bernese Oberland into the Zermatt district, that Mecca of the
-mountaineering world. Starting from Meiringen, we had, by a circuitous
-route over the Gauli Glacier and the Wetterlimmi, gained the Dossen
-club-hut, north-east of the Wetterhorn, whence the easiest way to
-the summit starts. A party of five Germans, likewise bound for the
-Wetterhorn, shared the hut with us.
-
-We left the hut at 2 a.m. on July 24, closely followed by the Germans
-who were roped in two parties. Walking up the snow slopes at a furious
-rate, they soon left us behind, for, knowing that our strength would
-be needed later on, we preferred to take things leisurely. Max and
-I arrived at the depression south of the summit and known as the
-Wettersattel, to find the Germans already breakfasting and bringing
-by no means small appetites to bear upon the generous contents of
-their knapsacks. A chilly north wind was blowing, and the sun had not
-yet reached us, so we cut short our rest and were soon forging up the
-final snow slope to the summit. The new snow which had fallen two days
-before, though it had obliterated the steps and tracks of previous
-climbers, was now good and firmly frozen; the slopes were nowhere
-very steep, and with the help of our climbing irons we made rapid
-progress. Save for the last few feet there was no need to cut steps.
-The ascent had been easy--far easier than most of the climbs of our
-apprenticeship; indeed, it seemed little more than a short mountain
-walk, for in less than five hours after leaving the Dossen hut we stood
-on the summit. The facility with which we had conquered this, our first
-really great peak, however, did nothing to mar our feelings of happy
-pride in the achievement. The wind had dropped and the sun was warm.
-With our axes we scraped out comfortable seats for ourselves in the
-snow and sat down to rest. Westwards from our feet the summit snow
-slope curved gently outwards to fall away in ever-increasing steepness
-till it was lost to sight, and the eye rested on the green meadows
-above Grindelwald. To the south we saw the Schreckhorn, Eiger, Mönch,
-Jungfrau and hosts of other giants of the Oberland, and in them beheld
-with happy vision a new world awaiting conquest.
-
-Twenty minutes of supreme happiness stole away ere our solitude was
-interrupted by the arrival of two of the Germans. The other three had
-given up the ascent. The spell thus broken, we prepared to return and a
-few minutes later were making our way back to the Wettersattel, closely
-followed by the two Germans who there rejoined their friends.
-
-It was our intention to descend on the Grindelwald side of the
-mountain. Part of the route leads down an immense gully to the Krinne
-Glacier. Arrived at the top of the gully, Max and I made our inspection
-and were satisfied. It seemed perfectly safe; it was broad and not
-very steep, and the new snow that had fallen had already consolidated
-and was reliable and so firm that it might even be necessary to use
-the axe to cut occasional steps. There were traces of a previous party
-who had attempted the descent but had given it up. By the time we had
-completed investigations, the two Germans had already set off down the
-tracks. They had decided to be the leading party on the descent, an
-arrangement which we disliked exceedingly, but there was nothing for it
-but to follow meekly. In the light of future developments, it was lucky
-that their three companions, more modest regarding their capabilities,
-elected to come behind us.
-
-Now, unless it is extraordinarily steep, there is only one correct way
-of descending a snow slope; you go down with your back to the slope,
-facing outwards. Standing boldly erect with shoulders well back like a
-guardsman on parade, you walk unconcernedly downwards with toes well
-up, letting the impetus of your body drive the heel into the snow to
-make a good, reliable step. Do not take little mincing steps, one
-barely below the other, but plunge bravely. You will then be sure
-of your foothold and make good headway. The Germans were evidently
-not accustomed to snow. They advanced with hesitation. Indeed, one of
-those behind us nervously faced into the slope and descended on all
-fours. About four hundred feet below the saddle, the tracks ceased.
-For some few feet farther, the leader of the party preceding us made
-sufficiently firm steps by kicking with his heels, but soon we found
-ourselves on much steeper and harder snow where step-cutting was
-imperative. The Germans betrayed an inclination to take to the snow
-and ice-plastered rocks to the left, but we warned them that safety
-lay only in laboriously cutting a way down in the hard snow bed of
-the gully. The leading German, however, soon abandoned step-cutting
-and moved out on to the rocks where he and his companion sat down,
-one close behind the other. Throughout the climb they had appeared
-to find difficulty in managing the sixty feet of rope to which they
-were attached; seldom had it been taut from man to man, and now, as
-they rested, it lay in loose coils between them. Max and I carried on,
-cutting steps down the gully, and had passed below the level of the
-two Germans when I saw one of them stand up. He slipped. His legs shot
-out beneath him and he began to slide down over the slabs on to the
-hard snow slope below. He dropped his axe. I shouted out a warning to
-his companion who was, however, too startled to take up the slack of
-the rope which was fast running out as the man at the other end slid
-on with increasing impetus. He had by now turned over on to his face,
-and was scraping frantically into the hard snow with his fingers in a
-desperate endeavour to save himself. At length the sixty feet of rope
-had run out; with a terrific jerk the second man was dragged from the
-rock and hurled through the air. Striking against a projecting crag,
-his left arm was wrenched from the shoulder and his chest crushed in.
-The body went on until the rope’s length was spent. Again a jerk, and
-the first man, whose pace had slackened as his comrade was dragged
-from his seat, was in his turn hurled through the air--to smash his
-head in on the rocks below. It was a sickening spectacle. The bodies
-bounded over and over each other in wide curves until the edge of the
-first great precipice leading down to the Krinne Glacier hid them from
-our sight. Their three companions, who had looked on aghast, were
-naturally in a terrible state of nerves. There was nothing to do but
-to go steadily on, and, not yet realising the condition of the party
-behind, Max and I turned our attention once more to step-cutting. We
-had not proceeded far before they implored us to lead them back into
-the Wettersattel. Cutting steps up past them, therefore, we joined
-their rope to ours, charging them to keep it always taut from man to
-man, and so made our way back to the saddle. Thence we descended with
-all possible speed past the Dossen hut to Rosenlaui, from where we
-telephoned news of the accident to Grindelwald.
-
-Rude as this our first experience had been, it was not to be the end of
-our acquaintance with the Wetterhorn. The Wetterhorn has three summits,
-all just over 12,100 feet. The Hasle Jungfrau, probably because of its
-more imposing appearance when seen from Grindelwald, is usually called
-the Wetterhorn, although the Mittelhorn is higher by a few feet; the
-Rosenhorn is by only a few feet the lowest of the three peaks. They are
-connected by a lofty ridge running roughly from east to west. Having
-been informed that a traverse of all three summits in one day was
-regarded as something of a _tour de force_, this was the climb which
-headed our programme for the summer of 1909.
-
-[Illustration: _Morning mists._
-
-  _Facing page 44._
-]
-
-On July 24, Max and I once again made ourselves at home in the
-Dossen hut. A school friend of Max, Will Sturgess, aged seventeen,
-accompanied us, keen as mustard and looking forward to his first
-mountain climb. That evening the weather broke and remained bad until
-the following afternoon, when a fierce westerly wind set in which swept
-away the clouds and lashed up from the ridges the newly-fallen snow.
-Towards sunset the gale dropped, and numerous parties arrived from
-Rosenlaui and Meiringen. We prepared our simple evening meal--pea soup,
-tea and plenty of bread and jam--and before nightfall were already
-seeking sleep on the straw of the bunks. But the ceaseless chatter,
-the noise of other people’s cooking operations, and last but not least
-the insistence of the preponderating Teuton element on closed windows,
-despite the fact that the little hut harboured some thirty individuals,
-made rest impossible. Soon after midnight, no longer able to bear the
-stifling atmosphere, we jumped down from our beds and gathered round in
-front of the door to drink in the sweet, cool night air. A full moon
-shone from a cloudless sky, streaking the quiet snows with bands of
-silver.
-
-We began to prepare breakfast, an example which was too soon followed
-by the other inmates, and so once more the little hut was filled with
-noise and bustle. Shortly after half-past one on the morning of July
-26, we escaped into the peace of the night. In our rucksacks we carried
-only the essential needs for the day, it being our intention to return
-to the hut. Over the splendid, hard-frozen snow we mounted up to the
-Dossensattel--the little snow depression on the rock ridge at the
-lower end of which stands the hut--and within an hour had crossed it
-and were making our way horizontally over a fairly steep snow slope
-towards the Wetterkessel. Sturgess, who was in the middle of the rope,
-slipped twice, but as we always kept the rope taut from man to man he
-was easily held, while on both occasions he retained his grip upon
-his ice-axe--a promising sign on the part of a beginner. We walked
-quickly across the Wetterkessel, for the wind was bitingly cold, and
-about an hour below the Wettersattel halted for a second breakfast,
-finding shelter in a shallow crevasse. The first red flush of dawn was
-creeping down the Hasle Jungfrau as we set off once more. In the snow
-at the foot of a great rock pinnacle in the Wettersattel we deposited
-our knapsacks. Sturgess, wishing to reserve his strength for later in
-the day, elected to remain here and await our return from the Hasle
-Jungfrau. In a wind-sheltered hollow he got the little aluminium
-cooking apparatus into action, and promised that we should have hot
-drinks when we came back.
-
-We found the remains of good steps leading up the final snow slope
-and, at 6 a.m., within twenty minutes after leaving the Wettersattel,
-stepped out on to the summit. Not a single step had we had to cut. The
-wind had died down, and the sky was cloudless. Again we gazed into the
-snow and ice-clad recesses of the Oberland, no longer land of mystery,
-for in the summer of 1908 we had successfully invaded its fastnesses.
-Far below in the Wettersattel, numerous climbers were coming up from
-the Grindelwald side--little black spots upon the white purity of
-the snows. Sturgess was evidently feeling the cold, for we could see
-him occasionally forsake the cooking-pot and indulge in short runs;
-altogether he seemed to be exerting himself much more than we two.
-After spending half an hour on the summit, we cut steps along the snow
-ridge in the direction of the Great Scheidegg, until we could look down
-on to the little Hühnergutz Glacier on the cliffs of the Wetterhorn
-overlooking the Scheidegg. On our return we found several parties in
-possession of the summit, so, carrying straight on and plunging down
-the good snow, we soon rejoined our companion who was waiting to
-welcome us with a cup of hot tea--veritable nectar to the climber on
-the heights. Max and his friend being inclined to dally over this,
-their third breakfast, I unroped and, leaving them to follow at their
-leisure, proceeded alone up the snow slopes leading to the Mittelhorn.
-There were no difficulties to be overcome, and presently I had gained
-the summit where I stretched myself out in the warm sun on some near by
-rocks and went to sleep.
-
-At 9 a.m. Max, with Sturgess in tow, rudely awakened me, and we made
-ready for the serious part of the day’s work. Hitherto, though we had
-omitted none of the precautions so necessary for the safe carrying out
-of even the simplest of mountaineering excursions, the climb had seemed
-little more than a pleasant morning’s walk. Now, however, we were
-confronted by the long, be-pinnacled ridge connecting the Mittelhorn
-and the Rosenhorn, and unless appearance and rumour belied it, we
-were not likely to have too little to do. We roped together. For the
-first half-hour along the snow-crest everything was straightforward,
-until we arrived on a rocky platform from which the ridge suddenly
-fell away in an almost vertical cliff. About thirty feet lower down
-was a ledge, narrow and sloping, but roomy enough to provide standing
-ground for all three. Max lowered himself over, while I, well-braced,
-held his rope and paid him out foot by foot until he reached the
-ledge. Then came Sturgess’ turn. He advanced boldly, but lacking my
-brother’s rock-climbing prowess, he completed the descent by a free
-use of the rope. Now it was my turn. Max warned me that the pitch was
-too difficult to descend without help from above; so I cut a short
-length off the end of our rope, tied the ends securely together to form
-a loop and hung it over a jutting out spike of firm rock. Meanwhile
-the others had untied themselves, thus giving me sufficient rope for
-subsequent manœuvres. Drawing up Max’s end of the rope, I passed it
-through the loop and back to him, so that as I descended he could hold
-me from below like a weight on a rope passing through a pulley--the
-loop in this case performing the functions of the pulley--and check any
-disposition on my part to fall. Safe on the ledge, I recovered the rope
-by simply pulling on my end until the other passed through the noose.
-This and similar methods of descending difficult pitches of rock or ice
-are known to the mountaineer as “roping down.”
-
-A brief scramble over easy rocks led to the upper edge of another
-vertical step in the ridge, where we again roped down. This pitch,
-however, was much longer than the last and, in addition, it partially
-overhung. Here and there, also, it was plastered up with ice that was
-softening in the warm rays of the sun. It was practically impossible to
-climb, and for most of the way down I hung with my full weight on the
-rope while Max paid it out. The ledge on which we now stood was on the
-south side of the ridge, the backbone of which we soon regained by an
-easy traverse over good broken up rock to the left. Here we made the
-aggravating discovery that, by previously adhering to the crest, we had
-missed a perfectly simple line of descent on the other side.
-
-The way to the Mitteljoch, the depression on the ridge between the
-Mittelhorn and the Rosenhorn, was now clear. A few easy rocks followed
-by soft snow slopes brought us to the foot of a great rock pinnacle
-or _gendarme_. This was easily avoided by skirting round its base on
-the north side, keeping as high as possible in the steep snow slopes
-below its rocky flank. Before midday, we arrived at the foot of the
-north-west ridge of the Rosenhorn and began climbing over the array
-of bold, red-brown rock teeth that form its crown. For nearly two
-hours, keeping well to the crest of the ridge, we scrambled merrily
-over _gendarme_ after _gendarme_, finding the rock good and reliable
-on the whole, with little danger of foot- or handholds breaking away.
-Sturgess was feeling rather tired and occasionally required help. One
-extra long and steep crack taxed his powers to the utmost. A pull on
-the rope from above, however, and a push from below enabled him to drag
-himself on to the almost level platform at the top of the pinnacle,
-where for several minutes he lay and gasped like a fish out of water.
-Shortly after one o’clock the difficulties were over, and, seeing
-in front of us nothing more than an easy scramble to the summit, we
-settled down to a rest and a meal.
-
-[Illustration: _Climbing down a steep ridge._]
-
-[Illustration: _The short cut--roping down._
-
-  _Facing page 48._
-]
-
-The cold wind to which we had hitherto been exposed had dropped,
-and the sun beat warmly down upon us from an almost cloudless sky.
-Presently I became assailed with doubts as to whether the highest point
-visible were really the summit or merely masking a loftier eminence
-farther along the ridge. To settle the question, I unroped and set off
-alone. An hour’s easy clamber brought me to the point in question, to
-discover to my intense satisfaction that it actually was the summit
-of the Rosenhorn. I shouted the good news down to the others who were
-already making their way up towards me. At the same moment I found
-that my knapsack had been left behind at our resting-place. As Max and
-Sturgess had both overlooked it, I hurried down past them, retrieved my
-property and, climbing back in all haste, overtook them just below the
-top. At 3 p.m. all three stood on the summit. Sturgess immediately set
-about finding a comfortable couch for himself on a smooth, horizontal
-slab where he dozed while Max and I got busy with the cooker. An hour
-sped by quickly enough to the pleasant accompaniment of the munching
-of stout sandwiches washed down by copious draughts of hot tea.
-
-Meanwhile the weather was changing for the worse. A south wind had
-sprung up; great, woolly cumulus clouds had gathered on the horizon
-and were rolling over towards us. It was evident that a thunderstorm
-was imminent. So at four o’clock we packed up, re-roped and moved off
-along the south-west ridge over which the mountain is usually climbed.
-Relieving Sturgess of his knapsack, we climbed over a rocky point
-which is almost as high as the summit itself, and were soon making
-our way down over the easy rocks to the snow slopes leading to the
-Rosenegg. Curving round to the left, we then ploughed our way across
-the Wetterkessel in the direction of the Dossenhorn. The noonday sun
-had softened the snow, and at every step one sank almost to the knees
-in slush. Coming as it did at the end of a long day, the making of
-the track was toilsome in the extreme, and Max and I took the lead in
-turns. Sturgess, however, showed such hopeful signs of recovering his
-energies that we finally decided to regain the hut by climbing over
-the Dossenhorn instead of only crossing the Sattel. By so doing, one
-more summit would be added to the three already bagged--an important
-consideration in our early mountaineering days. The decision involved
-a slight change in route. Making for the Renfenjoch, the depression
-at the foot of the Dossenhorn, we struggled up through the soft, wet
-snow and at last gained the rocks of the south ridge of the mountain.
-Thence to the summit was an uneventful climb over good firm rock. We
-lost no time on the top. There was no view to be seen, for thick mists
-swirled round us and it began to sleet. Soon Max was swallowed up in
-fog as I paid out his rope while he descended the steep rocks in the
-direction of the hut. When he had called out that he had found good,
-firm standing ground, Sturgess followed, while by a steady hold on his
-rope I checked any tendency on his part to gain too much momentum.
-Soon after leaving the summit the electricity of the highly-charged
-atmosphere surrounding us began to discharge itself slowly through our
-axes and the sodden rope, making a noise like the tearing of linen.
-Fearing the possibility of a more violent lightning-like discharge,
-we moved out on to the western flank of the ridge and hurried along
-with the greatest speed compatible with safety. We encountered no
-further difficulties and at length, at 7 p.m., after an absence of
-over seventeen hours, regained the Dossen hut, but not before we had
-been drenched to the skin by a torrential downpour of rain that had
-superseded the sleet.
-
-Our gallant beginner showed naturally great fatigue, but we rubbed
-him until he was warm again and rolled him up in blankets. Max and I
-then prepared a hot meal and changed our sodden clothing as far as
-the presence of a party of ladies, who with their guides were bent on
-climbing the Dossenhorn on the morrow, would permit. Good food followed
-by a night’s rest worked wonders for Sturgess who soon recovered
-from the effects of his hardships. He was a stout fellow, keen,
-uncomplaining and always ready to do his best, and had indeed acquitted
-himself splendidly on this, his first great mountain climb.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-THE JUNGFRAU
-
-
-A glance at the map of the Bernese Oberland will show that a straight
-line drawn in a north-easterly direction from the Breithorn to the
-Eiger will pass through, or close to, the Grosshorn, Mittaghorn,
-Ebnefluh, Jungfrau and Mönch. The ridge connecting these great peaks
-forms a lofty watershed flanked on the south by gently-rising glacier
-slopes and on the north by precipitous ice-clad cliffs and icefalls.
-Almost every route, therefore, leading from the north across this
-great connecting ridge constitutes an arduous ice-climb followed by
-a comparatively easy descent on the south side. Small wonder, then,
-that the guides of the Oberland, who live in close proximity to such a
-wonderful training ground, excel all others in the art of snow and ice
-mountaineering.
-
-The ascent of the north face of the Jungfrau is reputed to be one of
-the finest ice expeditions in the Alps and, as such, attracted the
-boyish attention of my brother and me, incited as we were even in
-the earliest days of our climbing career by the picture of Himalayan
-adventure that hovered in the background of our minds. In the event
-of the picture coming to life, ice work, we felt sure, would stand
-us in better stead than mere agility on rock, and it was, therefore,
-our endeavour to perfect ourselves as far as possible in the more
-serious side of mountaineering, that is, in the intricacies of snow and
-ice-craft. The north face of the Jungfrau presents itself to the eye
-as an imposing edifice built up of glistening, greenish-white terraces
-of ice and snow of such purity that it were almost desecration to set
-human foot upon them. To the mountaineer, who is perhaps actuated
-less by poetic imagination than by the virile desire to pit his puny
-strength against a much stronger force, these great terraces become
-but the stepping-stones on the road to the summit. In number they are
-five--the upper reaches of the Guggi Glacier, the Kühlauenen Glacier,
-the Giessenmulde, the Silbermulde and the Hochfirn--forming a wonderful
-spiral staircase, as it were, betwixt earth and heaven. No better field
-could be found in which to test our skill and improve our knowledge;
-and it was this ambitious climb that figured next to the Wetterhorn in
-our programme for the summer of 1909.
-
-[Illustration: _The north face of the Jungfrau._
-
-“... an imposing edifice of glistening terraces of ice and snow....”
-
-  _Facing page 52._
-]
-
-Max, Sturgess and I, after traversing the three summits of the
-Wetterhorn, left the Dossen hut on July 27 for Rosenlaui, and thence
-walked over the Great Scheidegg to Grindelwald where we arrived with
-barely an hour to spare before the last train of the day was due to
-leave for the Little Scheidegg. That hour was a crowded one. Boots
-required re-nailing and patching up, a stock of provisions sufficient
-for eight days had to be laid in, and all superfluous baggage bundled
-up and posted off to Zermatt, our next port of call in the valleys.
-We spread out into the village bazaar where, thanks to a good
-distribution of labour and unstinting use of what we were pleased
-to imagine was Swiss-German, we stirred up the kindly but stolid
-Grindelwald shopkeepers to unwonted activity and succeeded in arriving
-at the station just on time. The spectacle we presented--dissolving
-in perspiration, weighed down by bulging knapsacks, with climbing
-irons, cooking apparatus and ropes slung on anyhow, loaves of bread
-tucked under our arms--caused some merriment amongst the trippers
-who thronged the waiting train. However, we succeeded in finding room
-for ourselves and belongings and utilised the leisure afforded by
-the journey up to the Little Scheidegg in repacking stores in more
-convenient and comfortable fashion. We also made the acquaintance of
-the famous Swiss climber, the late Dr. Andreas Fischer who, with the
-two guides Hans Almer (son of Christian Almer, in his time the greatest
-of Swiss guides) and Ulrich Almer (son of Ulrich, Christian’s almost
-equally renowned brother), was, like us, bound for the Guggi hut. All
-three were extremely kind to us. We told Dr. Fischer that Max and I
-intended to climb the Jungfrau from the Guggi hut. Somewhat amazed
-and not a little concerned at this bold project on the part of two
-mere boys, he urged us to be careful. When we assured him, however,
-that we were fully aware of the toughness of the impending task and
-intended to spend at least one whole day in reconnoitring the way and
-cutting the necessary steps up as far as the Schneehorn, he saw that
-we meant business and returned our confidences by telling us of his
-own ambitious plans, from which it appeared that our roads would lie
-together as far as the Schneehorn. There, however, our ways would
-part, for it was his intention to cut up long and tremendously steep
-ice slopes to the then unascended north-east ridge of the Jungfrau and
-climb over that ridge to the summit.
-
-In spite of the novelty of our surroundings and the wonderful aspect of
-the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau as seen from this side, the walk from the
-Scheidegg over the Eiger Glacier to the hut was, for us with our heavy
-loads, far from being a pleasure. More lightly laden, Fischer and his
-guides soon outstripped us, and it was with a sigh of relief that, just
-before nightfall, we arrived at our destination.
-
-The old Guggi hut, now almost disused, is one of the smallest in the
-Alps, measuring as it does in floor space only ten feet by twelve.
-In 1909 more than half that space was taken up by two tiers of
-straw-filled sleeping bunks, and what remained was largely exhausted
-by a tiny stove and rickety table. Within comfortable walking distance
-of the Eiger Glacier station of the Jungfrau railway, the hut is
-frequently visited by trippers, a section of the community noted in the
-Alps for the trail of disorder they leave behind them; and we arrived
-to find the Almers endeavouring to clear up the pigsty condition in
-which they had found our resting-place for the night. We lent a hand
-and, a semblance of tidiness once more restored, prepared a simple
-dinner and turned in to sleep. There was a rug for each man and one
-huge horse blanket which sufficed to cover us all, so we slept warmly.
-
-Shortly after midnight the disturbing ring of my alarum watch drove
-us forth to inspect the weather. The night air was warm, and long
-streaks of fish-shaped clouds in the west threatened trouble. Fischer’s
-party required settled weather for their expedition, and as on the
-first day we only intended prospecting as far as the Schneehorn and
-could, therefore, afford to wait for an hour or two, all turned in
-again to sleep while waiting for the weather to show its hand. At 1
-a.m. Max and I became impatient. Prospects were still doubtful, though
-for our purposes fair enough. The Almers could not make up their
-minds to start; but we, not so dependent upon the weather, decided
-to clear for action. Dr. Fischer now came forward with a plan which,
-even then, I realised was prompted by his anxiety for our safety and
-the liking which he had already formed for us. He suggested that
-we should join forces and go together as far as the rocks of the
-Schneehorn and bivouac there for the night. Next morning, weather
-permitting, we could then complete our climb, and he and his guides
-would carry on with their great task. We at once fell in with this
-generous proposal. Hans and Ulrich, hitherto obviously downhearted at
-the idea of a day’s idleness, now brightened up. One by one we crawled
-out of our bunks--the cramped space would not allow all to get up
-together--and while the cooks monopolised the interior, the rest of us
-busied ourselves outside the hut, groping for clothes in the darkness,
-seeking the more elusive garments with matches and generally completing
-our toilet under difficulties. Breakfast, coming so soon after a
-late supper, was but a shadow of a meal; and it was barely half-past
-one when, shod with climbing irons, we put on the rope and, bidding
-good-bye to Sturgess who intended returning to Grindelwald in the
-course of the day, stepped forth with lighted lanterns into the night.
-
-With a few steps we had left the ridge upon which the hut stands and
-were proceeding through the icefall of the Guggi Glacier. Max and I
-had an easy time of it here. We could not risk wounding the feelings
-of such splendid guides as the Almers by offering to take our share in
-finding the way, and therefore had to content ourselves by following in
-our best style, always paying attention to the correct handling of the
-rope. Once, while making our way round the corner of an ice pinnacle
-below which yawned the black depths of an appalling crevasse, Dr.
-Fischer expressed anxiety for our safety. But Hans, watching us coming
-along, reassured him: “They are sure-footed like cats; they know how to
-use the rope; they are quite safe”: ample reward for the self-restraint
-we had imposed upon ourselves in not attempting to take the lead. Young
-Ulrich, who went ahead, had plenty to do. The icefall is very broken
-up. Clambering over or round, or even under enormous séracs, towering
-all about us like the suddenly frozen waves of a storm-tossed sea,
-we gradually made our way upwards, amidst a brooding, gloomy silence
-that was rendered more vast and impressive by the occasional chipping
-of Ulrich’s axe, the tinkling of fragments of falling ice and the
-crunching sound of the climbing irons as their sharp points bit at each
-step into the ice.
-
-[Illustration: _The icefall of the Guggi Glacier._
-
-  _Facing page 56._
-]
-
-Almost at the head of this first icefall we encountered the most
-serious of its defensive barriers. A huge crevasse, a great open gash,
-stretched across our path and was lost in the darkness, its bottom far
-beyond the reach of the dim light of the lanterns. Hans having paid us
-the compliment of asking us to explore out to the left while his party
-reconnoitred to the right, we were fortunate in soon discovering a
-solution to the problem in the shape of a slender flake of ice forming
-a fragile bridge. After some judicious step-cutting, the flake being
-too frail to endure much belabouring, we were across and shouting the
-news of our success to the others, already returning from a fruitless
-search.
-
-All now lay clear before us up to the foot of the second icefall,
-where the Kühlauenen Glacier tumbles down on to the Guggi in a mighty
-mass of séracs. Uncrevassed slopes, gentle at first but rising up more
-steeply as we mounted higher, brought us rapidly to the foot of the
-icefall where we foregathered and studied the outlook while waiting for
-the pale light of dawn to enable us to stow away the lanterns. Beyond
-the frozen torrent of séracs merging into the Guggi Glacier stretched
-a great vertical wall of ice, a gaunt, lofty rampart forty to sixty
-feet high, which gleamed clear and unbroken in the cold, grey light
-from under the cliffs of the Mönch right round to the rocks of the
-Schneehorn. It was plain that the obstacle could not be turned; the
-flanks were too well guarded by steep ice-glazed and avalanche-swept
-rocks. Yet nowhere was there apparent a flaw which would aid the
-besieger. In Hans Almer, however, there was no lack of decision.
-He seemed to act on the principle of poking his nose right into a
-difficulty in searching for its key. Presently, with a cheery “Come
-along!” he cut ahead and, with amazing speed, worked his way through
-a steep tangle of crevasses and séracs, never at fault for a means
-of negotiating the many obstructions met with, until we arrived on a
-débris-strewn ledge at the base of the great ice cliff. Haste had been
-imperative, for almost throughout this passage we had been endangered
-by lurching monsters of séracs. It is true we were still in the shade,
-and according to the best authorities séracs do not fall until the
-warmth of the sun’s rays or the hot breath of the föhn wind strikes
-upon them. Later in the day Hans emphatically characterised such
-beliefs as “Unsinn,” and told me that, in his experience, séracs fell
-just when they thought fit and often displayed the greatest activity
-on cold and frosty nights when it behoved them to be asleep. My later
-observations tend to show that the falling of séracs is most likely to
-occur just before sunrise, during the coldest hours of the night. On
-the east face of Monte Rosa I once counted sixteen falls of ice and
-séracs between 3 and 4.30 a.m., eleven between 6 and 8 a.m. and two
-between 3 and 4 p.m.
-
-The swift scramble up the séracs had somewhat robbed us of our breath,
-and we welcomed the brief halt which a search for a possible breach
-in the great ice wall before us demanded. Immediately above, the wall
-showed sure signs of disintegration; several great sheets of ice were
-in process of detaching themselves. One monster, fully fifty feet in
-height, leaned forward in an ominous manner. As its fall would have
-strewn with blocks the ledge where we stood, Hans moved over to the
-right where a great square-cut bastion of undoubted firmness afforded
-security from the perils of falling ice. From here we sighted the one
-and only weak spot we were ever able to detect in the great barrier. A
-huge crevasse in the glacier above cleft the wall in twain, and were
-it but possible to gain the floor of this crevasse, the problem of
-surmounting the wall itself would no more exist. But the approach to
-the chasm was defended by an immense archway of rickety séracs which
-looked ready to collapse at any moment. The presence of masses of very
-broken ice under the archway promised slow and, therefore, unsafe
-progress, and Hans decided that we must look round for another way out
-of our trouble. Max and I were told to climb to the top of the bastion
-now shielding us and to report on the prospects as seen from up there.
-The others, bent on a similar mission, moved along the ledge towards
-the Schneehorn rocks. But neither party had any luck; there remained
-nothing but to risk the archway passage or retire, beaten. We were
-on the point of leaving the issue to chance by tossing a coin, when
-nature stepped in and providentially staged a thrill. Suddenly a loud
-crashing as of thunder was heard, and the ground upon which we stood
-trembled and shook under the impact of tons of ice blocks; dense clouds
-of ice dust filled the air and, enveloping us, hid everything from
-view. As the mists slowly thinned we saw that the giant archway had
-fallen in. The ruins, choking up the floor of the crevasse, furnished
-us with a causeway giving egress to the glacier above. The god had
-indeed descended from his chariot. Without the necessity of cutting a
-single step, we arrived a few minutes later on the almost level plateau
-of the Kühlauenen Glacier, the second of the five glacier plateaux
-characteristic of the north face of the Jungfrau.
-
-Meanwhile, the weather had not improved. By now we ought to have
-been able to bask in the warm rays of the rising sun, but fish-shaped
-clouds filled the morning sky, and great masses of clammy mist floated
-up the Guggi Glacier and rolled down upon us from the Jungfraujoch.
-A snowstorm was brewing. We sat down in the snow for a rest and,
-while eating a few biscuits, noted the best point for crossing the
-bergschrund which defends the approach to the rocks of the Schneehorn.
-The mists had closed in ere we began the final stage of the day’s work.
-Largely filled up with masses of snow and fallen stones, the schrund
-was easily crossed, and, walking up a short slope of good snow, we
-soon gained the rocks which were dry and firm and nowhere actually
-difficult. Knowing our dislike for merely following in the footsteps of
-others, Dr. Fischer tactfully encouraged us to choose our own line of
-ascent. So henceforward we climbed on a level with, and some distance
-out to the left of, his party.
-
-At 9 a.m. we arrived at a point about half-way between the bergschrund
-and the summit of the Schneehorn and, observing that the rocks higher
-up were sprinkled with new snow, decided to look round for a suitable
-site to bivouac. Failing to find a platform large enough to seat all
-five together, we rummaged about in detachments for convenient ledges
-and eventually settled down within speaking distance of each other.
-
-The ledge chosen by Max and myself was small and narrow. With our backs
-to the wall above and feet dangling over the cliff falling away to the
-glacier below, we planted the cooking apparatus between us. The next
-two hours were spent partly in attending to cooking operations and
-partly in chipping Hans Almer who, every few minutes thinking he espied
-a more suitable abode than the one he was occupying at the time, was
-continually on the move changing house. At 11 a.m. it began to snow in
-a desultory, intermittent manner. Then came a sleet and hail storm with
-chilly gusts of wind from which there was no sheltering. Before midday
-it snowed in real earnest, and it was obvious that, unless an immediate
-change set in, there could be no hope of our continuing the climb next
-day. New snow lay two inches deep over the rocks when, at one o’clock,
-Dr. Fischer gave the word for retreat.
-
-The descent over the now snow-covered rocks demanded great care; but,
-once down on the glacier, we plunged in long strides over to the
-crevasse in the great ice wall. The steps of the morning were all
-obliterated, but, unhesitatingly and in spite of the mist and snow,
-Hans unravelled his way through the séracs and presently brought us
-out on to the Guggi Glacier. Dr. Fischer elected to rest here; but
-Hans told us to go straight on, advising us not to retrace the line
-of previous ascent, but to try and get through over on the right bank
-close under the rocks of the Mönch. Acting on his advice we found there
-a good way and at 3 p.m. were safely back in the hut.
-
-Presently Dr. Fischer’s party arrived and, after a brief halt, returned
-to Grindelwald to await more auspicious weather. Max and I, having a
-stock of provisions sufficient for more than a week, could afford to
-wait on the spot, ready to drive home a renewed attack as soon as the
-weather cleared. In the early hours of the morning of July 29, the sky
-was still overcast; so we slept on well into the day, awaking, too
-late for breakfast yet too early for lunch, to find the sun blazing
-down from a cloudless sky and dissolving the rolling billows of
-cloud in the valleys below. After an orgy of a meal that we elected
-to call “brunch,” we basked on the roof of the hut until, early in
-the afternoon, the sun sank behind the Jungfrau. Towards evening
-we carried our surplus provisions over to the Eiger Glacier to be
-forwarded by rail to the Eismeer station. On returning to the Guggi
-hut, we found Dr. Fischer and his guides once more installed therein,
-full of confidence in the prospects.
-
-At 2 a.m. on July 30, we again set forth on our quest. Not a breath
-of wind stirred; the sky was cloudless. Hans Almer sent us on ahead
-to lead the way. Knowing the ground well now, we forged up through
-the first icefall and came to a halt on the gentle snow slopes at the
-foot of the Kühlauenen Glacier icefall, there to await the arrival of
-the others. They had no sooner reached us than Dr. Fischer found that
-he had lost his tea flask, so he and Hans went back to look for it.
-In the meanwhile Ulrich and we two shivered and stamped about in a
-vain endeavour to keep warm. Just as it was becoming light enough to
-dispense with the lanterns, Dr. Fischer rejoined us, having found his
-precious flask in the snow at the very edge of an immense crevasse just
-above the Guggi icefall.
-
-By 5 a.m. we were walking over the almost level basin of the Kühlauenen
-Glacier and soon afterwards were grappling with the rocks of the
-Schneehorn--no longer without difficulty, for much fresh snow hampered
-us in the finding of foot- and handholds. Beyond the site of our
-bivouac of two days ago, we found the rocks so buried in snow that Hans
-had to clear a way with his axe. Progress was accordingly slow, and
-it was not until 7 o’clock that, cutting through the little cornice
-at the head of the final, short, steep, snow slope over which the
-summit of the Schneehorn (11,200 ft.) is approached, we set foot on the
-Giessenmulde, the third of the five plateaux. Henceforward our ways
-lay apart. While Max and I were bound for the direction of the Little
-Silberhorn, Dr. Fischer and his guides were to turn off to the south
-towards the immense slopes of gleaming ice leading up to the north-east
-ridge of the Jungfrau. But so quickly are friendships formed in the
-mountains that already, after such a brief acquaintance, we were by no
-means loth to retard the hour of parting by settling down to breakfast.
-
-[Illustration: “_We basked on the roof of the Guggi hut._”
-
-  _Facing page 62._
-]
-
-At a quarter past seven Dr. Fischer said, “Now then, you boys, it’s
-time you were off!” and, after bidding an “Au revoir” all-round and
-expressing the hope that we would meet on the summit, Max and I got
-under way. While crossing the level, hard-frozen snow surface of the
-Giessenmulde, we had ample time to study the icefall guarding the
-approach to the Silbermulde, the fourth glacier plateau. This icefall
-was obviously formidable, and it looked as if a huge, unbridged
-crevasse which cut across it might prove, if not insuperable, at all
-events a source of much delay. The icy north-east ridge of the little
-Silberhorn, however, offered a sure, even if arduous, means of flanking
-the obstacle; and we quickly decided to choose the harder work of
-cutting up this ridge in safety, in preference to the less laborious
-but much more uncertain and, on account of possible falls of ice,
-perhaps dangerous passage through the icefall. The ridge was covered
-with a thick layer of crystals of rotten ice, in which two, or at the
-most three, well-directed blows of the axe sufficed to make a good
-step. Working hard and as fast as possible, we rose so rapidly that,
-half an hour after leaving the others who were now just beginning to
-tackle their big ice slope, we arrived on the beautifully curved ice
-ridge which forms the summit of the little Silberhorn. After a brief
-descent, we crossed the Silbermulde and faced the next difficulties,
-a great bergschrund and a short, but very steep, ice slope below the
-Silbersattel. Over to the left, away from the Silbersattel, the two
-edges of the bergschrund approached more closely together, so that by
-discarding my rucksack and standing on Max’s shoulder I was able to
-effect a lodgment on the slope above. I then saw that, to get over to
-the Silbersattel, handholds and footholds would have to be cut round to
-the right, past an almost vertical ice bulge. Only the right hand could
-be used to ply the axe; the left would be fully occupied in holding on.
-Max unroped and tied himself on again, but this time at the extreme end
-of the hundred-and-fifty-foot rope; then, after carefully working round
-the bulge, I was able to cut straight up into the Silbersattel where,
-finding good standing ground, I held the rope firmly and afforded Max,
-with his double burden of rucksacks, the necessary assistance over the
-bergschrund and round the bulge. It is quite probable that in some
-seasons this obstacle may prove impassable. The Silberlücke, however,
-could always be gained by crossing the Silberhorn, a roundabout
-route which would entail some loss of time. The ridge known as the
-Silbergrat, stretching up before us to the Hochfirn, commences in a
-great rock pinnacle which looked difficult, but was, with the ensuing
-ridge of good firm rock, quite easy, though enthrallingly interesting
-in view of the dizzy precipices that fall away to the Lauterbrunnen
-Valley. Higher up, cornices, wind-whirled into fantastic shapes,
-crowned the ridge. We hacked them down and strode triumphant over
-their battered remains until at length the rocks merged into a slender
-snow-crest, along which, swinging the axe in rhythm with our pace and
-leaving a step after each blow, we passed quickly over to the Hochfirn,
-up which, almost knee-deep in soft snow, we laboriously plodded our way.
-
-The day was now won; no further difficulty lay between us and the
-summit. It was still early, and time was our own to squander as we
-willed; so, veering towards the left, we stamped through deep snow
-up on to the Wengern Jungfrau (13,320 ft.), the lower summit of the
-Jungfrau, in order to see how Dr. Fischer’s party were progressing.
-They were still far below the north-east ridge--three tiny black dots
-sticking like flies to the smooth, glassy wall. Our shouts of triumph
-were faintly echoed by them; then, realising that there would be no
-chance of our meeting up here, we turned towards the true summit of
-the Jungfrau (13,668 ft.) and, walking up the easy rocks of the south
-ridge, soon gained the top. It was 11 a.m.; we had been in all only
-nine hours _en route_, and of those nearly one hour had been spent down
-below the Kühlauenen icefall, awaiting dawn.
-
-As on our last visit to the Jungfrau, the view was clear. To the north
-we looked down into the valleys of the Bernese Oberland, invitingly
-clad in the soft, restful colourings of forest, pastureland and lake.
-Southwards, the gaze passed over glaciers and snow-clad mountains,
-through the bluish haze rising from the dark rift of the Rhône Valley
-to beyond the Pennine Alps, and lingered at last on the glistening snow
-cap of Mont Blanc. The hardest part of the day’s work was over. The air
-was warm, still and languorous, so, after setting the cooking apparatus
-on to melt snow for a brew of tea and having, by way of precaution
-against the consequences of any tendency to sleep walk, belayed the
-rope to our axes driven deep into the snow, we lay down and were soon
-wrapt in slumber.
-
-Two hours later we awoke at the chill touch of a gust of wind. Clouds
-hovered all around, warning us of the approach of yet another spell
-of bad weather. We finished lunch and made ready for the descent by
-the ordinary route to the Bergli hut. As was to be expected, we found
-a beautiful staircase of immense steps already cut in the moderately
-steep snow slope leading down to the Rotthal Sattel. The bergschrund
-below the saddle was smaller than we had ever known it before, and soon
-we were plodding a monotonous way over the Jungfrau Glacier through
-the now thoroughly softened snow towards the Mönchjoch. There was not
-a breath of wind; and so fiercely did the sun blaze that we almost
-marvelled that the whole glacier did not turn to water. At 4 p.m. we
-arrived at the Bergli hut. The sky had become completely overcast; but,
-though the sun was obscured, the air was hot and stifling. A break in
-the weather seemed certain; a matter of small concern to us, however,
-for our labours had been so strenuous that a day of enforced idleness
-was a welcome prospect. At 6 o’clock we turned in and slept peacefully
-and uninterruptedly until 8 a.m. next morning.
-
-Dr. Fischer and the Almers had arrived at the hut about midnight.
-They had gained the north-east ridge, only to be driven down to the
-Jungfrau Glacier by bad weather. Snow-glasses are apt to disturb one’s
-aim when cutting steps, and as the Almers, for this reason, had not
-worn theirs during the ascent of the great ice slope, they were now
-snowblind and in considerable pain. But they were a merry pair of
-companions notwithstanding. After a joint breakfast, we all went over
-to the Eismeer station, Fischer and the Almers leaving for Grindelwald
-while Max and I returned to the Bergli hut with a fresh supply of
-stores. Early in the afternoon the weather showed unmistakable
-signs of mending, so we settled down to try and shape our somewhat
-uncertain plans for the future. Our first big ice-climb had left us
-with a voracious appetite for more. The wicked, green shimmer of the
-appallingly steep ice slope leading from the Kühlauenen Glacier up to
-the Jungfraujoch held out a persistent challenge. But how to get there
-from the Bergli hut? The solution was simple, if perhaps a little
-ambitious: climb the Jungfrau, descend the north face to the Kühlauenen
-Glacier, and then cross over the Jungfraujoch to the Concordia hut. The
-north face had already so far exceeded our expectations for ice work
-and wonderful scenery that there was no fear of our finding a renewed
-visit dull. The ascent to the Jungfraujoch would provide some hours of
-continuous step-cutting, and we were still in need of practice with
-the ice-axe. Furthermore, by descending to the Concordia hut we should
-find ourselves well on the way to Zermatt. Fair dreamstuff for the
-mountain-mad! Content and expectant, we turned in to sleep.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-THE JUNGFRAU AND THE JUNGFRAUJOCH
-
-
-On reading the early annals of the Alpine Club, one cannot but be
-struck by the outstanding popularity of snow and ice-climbs and by
-the standard of efficiency reached in such climbs by the pioneers.
-The climber of to-day has added but few to the long list of wonderful
-ice-climbs that stand to the credit of his forerunner in the sixties.
-Ice-climbing has fallen into disfavour, but immense progress has been
-made in rock-climbing--a deplorable but readily explicable state of
-affairs. Since the early days, the army of climbers has become greatly
-inflated and embraces many who can spend only some short two summer
-weeks in the mountains. It is but natural that they should take the
-shortest way of getting to the summit. The novice who is sound in wind
-and limb can do well on rocks even at his first attempt. The traces of
-the man who was there before him still show clearly. Little scratches
-tell where to look for hand- and footholds and are reassuring testimony
-that another has accomplished and, therefore, encouragement to emulate.
-The rocky way does not change from day to day and but little from year
-to year, and with every fresh scratch the route becomes more easy for
-the next climber, so powerful a stimulant to the human will is the
-knowledge that another has attained. Thus even the greatest rock-climb
-becomes in time a gymnastic feat, a trial of purely physical strength.
-But there is no royal road to becoming a great ice-climber. Much spade
-work, both practical and theoretical, and demanding time, hard work,
-conscientiousness and unbounded enthusiasm, has to be done. Snow, sun,
-wind and the eternal flow of ice obliterate all comforting tracks, and
-the ice-mountaineer has to choose and make his own route. Thus the true
-ice-climber is always a pioneer.
-
-It is obvious that the would-be ice-climber must learn the art of
-cutting steps in ice or hard-frozen snow. A step can be fashioned with
-almost any sufficiently hard and pointed instrument. I once cut four
-steps with the big blade of a pocket-knife; on another occasion I made
-several with a sharp-pointed bit of granite. The steps were almost as
-good as if they had been hewn out by the orthodox weapon, the ice-axe;
-but in each instance the process involved a far greater expenditure
-of time and labour than would have been the case had I been properly
-equipped. The ice-axe is the best step-cutting implement known; but
-there are axes _and_ axes. As differ the makeshift and the inferior
-axe, so differ the inferior axe and the good axe. Both the makeshift
-and the inferior axe are spendthrifts of time and energy. When only a
-few occasional steps have to be cut, the consideration of a moment’s
-waste here and there may be negligible; but on an expedition where
-step-cutting is the order of the day, prodigality of humble seconds
-makes a mighty total that cannot be ignored. A first-class axe is a
-_sine quâ non_. What, then, is the criterion of a really useful axe?
-
-It may be stated without much fear of contradiction that only the
-craftsman who knows how to use the implement of his craft can express a
-sound opinion as to the merits of any particular example of that type
-of implement. Strange, then, it is that nearly all climbers will take
-hold of an ice-axe and, wisely shaking their heads and furrowing their
-brows, proceed to pronounce judgment upon it, despite the fact that
-it is common knowledge amongst trained and experienced mountaineers,
-both amateur and professional, that more than ninety-nine per cent.
-of the climbing fraternity are ignorant, not only of the art of
-step-cutting, but also of many of the other important uses to which an
-axe may be put. It should be noted that there is all the difference
-in the world between cutting a few incidental steps and undertaking
-the lead on an expedition where step-cutting is the rule. For the
-vast majority the ice-axe is, in reality, an unmitigated nuisance; a
-thing that is always getting in the way; too cumbersome to use as a
-walking-stick; a collection of sharp, steely points and edges ever
-making painful contact with the more vulnerable portions of both his
-and other people’s anatomy; an immobiliser of a hand sorely needed to
-clutch at handholds; twenty-five francs’ worth of uselessness, and
-often to be renewed because of its remarkable propensity for falling
-down cliffs and its owner’s no less remarkable propensity for throwing
-it away whenever he slips; an inferior opener of tins and a mangler of
-the contents thereof; a poor instrument for driving in nails and no
-respecter of fingers. All save a small minority of climbers would be
-far better served by a stout, crook-handled walking-stick which can
-almost always be induced to perform at least the one function implied
-in its name.
-
-The two most important uses to which the mountaineer expects to put his
-axe being to cut steps in ice or snow and to employ it as a belay when
-driven into either, the design of an axe should be governed largely
-by these two requirements. The different parts of an ice-axe are as
-follows:--The head consists of the pick (with the straight, curve and
-point), the centre-piece, the blade (which is connected to the rest
-of the head by the neck), and the two fingers by means of which the
-head is attached to the thicker end of the shaft. The other end of the
-shaft carries the ferrule and spike. The head of the axe should be
-hand-forged, and the metal must be neither so soft that it bends easily
-nor so hard that it is readily fractured. Measured from the middle of
-the centre-piece, the lengths of pick and blade should be 8 in. to 8¹⁄₂
-in. and 4¹⁄₄ in. respectively. The straight of the pick should form a
-right angle with the axis of the shaft. If the angle is more or less
-than a right angle, excessive vibration of most unpleasant character
-is readily set up while cutting steps. The width of the cutting edge
-of the blade should be from 2¹⁄₄ in. to 2¹⁄₂ in. The fingers should
-not be less than 6¹⁄₂ in. in length, and the rivets by means of which
-they are attached to the shaft must not exceed three in number. As
-they pass right through the wood, they tend to weaken the shaft and
-must not, therefore, be unduly multiplied. The shaft of the axe should
-be made from well-seasoned, straight and fairly close-grained ash and
-occasionally dressed with linseed oil. For a man about six feet in
-height, an overall length of 33 in. to 35 in. is the most suitable. A
-shorter man would do well to use a shorter axe. A longer axe gets in
-the way more easily, is more difficult to handle, disturbs the aim and,
-on account of the greater vibration set up at each blow, unduly tires
-the hands and is liable to cause blisters. For similar reasons, the
-shaft should not be round in section but elliptical. A round shaft does
-not fit so closely into the hand and, weight for weight, is also less
-strong than the oval one. At the head, where the fingers are attached
-to the shaft, the larger diameter should be 1¹⁄₂ in., the smaller ⁷⁄₈
-in., tapering at the ferrule to 1¹⁄₄ in. and ¹³⁄₁₆ in. respectively.
-Some climbers tack a leather ring or similar protuberance round the
-shaft, a few inches above the ferrule, with the object of affording a
-better grip and so preventing the axe from slipping through the hand
-when cutting steps. Apart from the fact that there is no reason why an
-axe should not be grasped in such a manner that it does not slip in
-the hand, such a contrivance is liable to cause blisters and seriously
-interferes with an important function of the axe, namely, the testing
-of snow bridges over crevasses and otherwise sounding the condition of
-snow. Some makers construct the ferrule and spike in one piece. Such
-an arrangement lacks the strength of the simple ferrule and spike made
-separately. The ferrule should not be too short, or it may fail to hold
-the spike or give sufficient protection to the shaft. The protruding
-portion of the spike should be 2¹⁄₂ in. to 2³⁄₄ in. long, of square
-section ⁹⁄₁₆ in. where it emerges from the shaft and tapering off to a
-rounded point. Many amateur climbers adorn the heads of their axes with
-slings made of leather or of some woven material, the object being
-to enable the owner to carry his axe by passing the sling over the
-wrist and thus leave the hand free for climbing. This is a dangerous
-practice. An axe carried in this manner is liable to get caught up in
-the rock and may thus lead to a serious disturbance of the climber’s
-balance. Furthermore, such slings must be removed when step-cutting is
-necessary. The proper way to carry an axe, when climbing rock where
-one does not wish to have a hand encumbered, is either to tuck it into
-the rope at one’s waist or hang it through a small loop at the back of
-one’s rucksack. So placed, it can be readily and without loss of time
-taken out when wanted and as easily put back. On very long rock-climbs,
-where the axe is perhaps not needed for hours on end, probably the best
-way to carry it is to pack it head downwards into one’s rucksack with
-the spike end protruding at the top.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Climbing irons, also known as crampons, or ice-claws, are of the
-greatest assistance to those mountaineers who know how to use them. A
-climbing iron consists of a steel framework which can be attached to
-the climber’s boot by means of straps or thongs, and is provided on the
-under side with a number of sharp points, teeth or prongs. These should
-number either eight or ten, preferably the latter; four to the heel and
-the remainder to the sole. A badly-fitting climbing iron is worse than
-useless, inasmuch as it may prove a source of danger. The position of
-the teeth should be such that they approximately follow the contour
-of the sole and heel of the boot. Above all, it is essential that
-the front prongs should be placed well to either side of the toe and
-at least level with the tip of the boot, if not actually projecting.
-The two prongs at the back of the heel should be similarly placed.
-The prongs should be sharp and from 2 in. to 2¹⁄₂ in. in length, and,
-to obviate the necessity for frequent re-sharpening and consequent
-excessive shortening of the teeth, the use of the climbing irons on
-rock should be avoided as much as possible. When the prongs are worn
-down to a length of 1¹⁄₂ inches it is advisable to discard the irons
-altogether.
-
-Nowadays, almost all climbers take crampons with them even on the
-simplest of ice excursions. Few, however, use them to the best
-advantage. When traversing across or climbing up a hard snow or ice
-slope without irons, the sole of the boot is always more or less at
-right angles to the slope. The edge nails on that side of the boot
-which is nearest the slope must do all the necessary gripping, and
-before the incline becomes so great that these slip, the axe must be
-resorted to and steps cut. Most people use climbing irons in a similar
-fashion, though, as a rule, the sole of the boot is kept nearer to
-the horizontal. In traversing an ice slope in this manner, it is true
-that the spikes of the crampons on the side nearest the slope will
-grip better than the boot nails alone would do and thus enable one to
-postpone the use of the axe. But in climbing vertically upwards only
-the two front prongs will bite into the ice, with the possible result
-that they may chip it away without securing reliable hold. To get the
-best use out of climbing irons, it is necessary to tread with the sole
-of the boot as far as is possible parallel to the slope. In this way
-all the points will be utilised. So used, sharp, long-toothed climbing
-irons will enable one to overcome extremely steep snow and ice slopes
-without the need of cutting steps. It is essential, however, that
-all members of the party be equally well equipped from the point of
-view of climbing irons and skill in using them. The inclusion of one
-who is deficient in either respect will make imperative the cutting
-of steps where it might well have been avoided. The climbing irons
-which Max and I had in 1909 were most defective in design. The teeth
-were short, barely one inch in length, and blunt, and the toe and heel
-prongs, instead of being level with, or projecting from, the toe and
-heel of the boot, came underneath. We were forced, in consequence, to
-cut almost as many steps as if we had had no crampons at all. They did
-assist, however, in that they enabled us to stand more securely in our
-ice steps and obviated the necessity of carefully cleaning out and
-making smooth the floor of each step.
-
-At 12.30 a.m., on August 1, 1909, Max and I crept down from our
-sleeping bunks and stealthily, lest we should disturb the still
-slumbering occupants of the hut, proceeded to light the fire for
-breakfast and prepare for our departure. At 1.15 a.m. we were outside
-the hut putting on the rope and otherwise ready to move off. The night
-was calm. Up the snow slopes above the hut to the Mönchjoch we made
-our way, lighted by the fitful glare of the lantern through a black
-shadowland girdled by a belt of silver whence, under the brilliancy of
-the full moon, the grotesque séracs, like sheeted spirits, kept watch
-over the eternal solitudes. Our pace was good, and soon we topped the
-Mönchjoch and, stepping from out the shadow, crossed the head of the
-Ewigschneefeld. Rounding the corner of the south ridge of the Mönch,
-we strode through a glittering fairyland to the music of hobnailed
-boots crunching into the hard-frozen snow. On the Jungfrau Glacier,
-immediately below the Jungfraujoch, all superfluous baggage was dumped,
-to be picked up on the way down to the Concordia hut after the climb.
-We fastened on crampons, and were soon climbing up the snow slopes
-leading to the Rotthal Sattel, below the final bergschrund of which a
-brief halt was called for a scanty meal--a couple of biscuits, which
-should, as all climbers know, have been washed down by warm tea.
-We had, however, to dispense with the tea; the flask containing it
-eluded my grasp and, sliding down the slopes below, plunged into the
-black depths of a great crevasse. No loss, they say, is without its
-compensating gain; I had now, at any rate, less weight to carry, and
-snow would serve almost as well to assuage thirst. The Rotthal Sattel
-was swept by an icy west wind, so we raced full tilt up to the summit
-and arrived there on the stroke of five, just as the upper edge of
-the sun peeped over the horizon. For some moments we stood in wonder
-at the daily miracle of dawn as it skimmed from glacier to glacier,
-from mountain-top to mountain-top, and stirred the earth to blushing
-wakefulness. But all too soon we became aware of a cold wind seeking
-its way through our rather light clothing and noticed that our toes
-were beginning to lose sensation, our boots being badly fashioned with
-low toe-caps. Turning towards the north, we ran down over the Hochfirn
-at a breakneck pace, in the hope that hard exercise would chase away
-the chill. Along the Silbergrat and down past the Silberlücke the
-mad rush continued until, gasping for breath, we gained the shelter
-of the Silbermulde. Down the little Silberhorn fresh steps had to
-be cut, our old ones having vanished; and, as during this operation
-Max had felt the cold again, we ran across the Giessenmulde to the
-Schneehorn. Descending the rocks, now almost free from snow, we gained
-the Kühlauenen Glacier and crossed it in the direction of the huge
-bergschrund guarding the approach to the ice slope leading up to the
-Jungfraujoch. We sat down on the lower lip of the bergschrund to rest
-before tackling what promised to be the most arduous part of the
-day’s task, and also to satisfy hunger with a sparing meal of bread,
-chocolate and snow. Max having relieved me of my knapsack which he
-packed into his own, we readjusted the climbing irons, taking up all
-the slack in the thongs by which they were attached to our feet, and
-set off to discover a way across the schrund. Not until we had explored
-well over to the left, underneath the great séracs that flanked the
-left of the slope up which we intended to cut our way, did the great,
-overhanging upper lip of the bergschrund show a hopeful weakness in the
-shape of a disfiguring cleft. Notwithstanding this breach, however, a
-stiff struggle ensued ere the difficulty was overcome. Driving both
-axes to the head into the good snow of the wall of the upper lip,
-I clung to them with both hands and, little by little, helped by a
-shoulder and a push from Max, pulled myself up with all the strength of
-my arms to the top, where I hewed out a large, secure step in which I
-was able to stand safely and steadily as my brother made his way up to
-me. We were now, however, in the direct line of fire from the séracs
-above; so, cutting steps over towards the right until out of harm’s
-reach, we turned upwards to face the formidable slope which was to
-prove the hardest part of the day’s work.
-
-[Illustration: _Cutting steps over the upper lip of a bergschrund._
-
-  _Facing page 76._
-]
-
-At first we had only hard snow to deal with, and four or five
-well-directed blows with the blade of the axe were sufficient to
-produce a good, firm step. We mounted straight upwards, keeping to a
-safe middle line between the slopes on the left, which were liable
-to be swept by falling ice, and those on the right, furrowed and
-scratched by stone-falls from the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau.
-Many mountaineers, when cutting up ice or snow slopes, favour a zig-zag
-course, traversing diagonally upwards, first to one side and then to
-the other. Such tactics have their disadvantages. The making of such
-a stairway, for instance, involves the cutting of a greater number of
-steps, and, in addition, these steps must, in the interests of safety,
-be large enough to accommodate the whole foot; while those required if
-a vertical route is followed need afford room for only half the foot,
-that is, from the toe to the instep. Again, on a zig-zag course, should
-any member of the party slip, there is much less chance of arresting
-his fall, as the climbers are seldom, if ever, directly below each
-other. In the present case, however, we had no choice; any route save
-that leading straight upwards would have brought us into danger from
-ice on the left or from stones on the right. Already, though only about
-fifty feet above the bergschrund, the slope was so steep that it was
-necessary always to cut three to four steps ahead of that upon which
-one stood. But the hard, firm snow was ideal carving material. Always
-using the blade, two good hard blows marked out the base, and a further
-two, or at the most three, sufficed to break away the roof and leave a
-good solid step.
-
-About one hundred and fifty feet above the schrund, conditions began
-to change. The snow gradually thinned out, and the pick of the axe
-had to be employed in finishing off the hard ice floor of each step.
-Eventually the snow disappeared, exposing smooth, bare ice, translucent
-and colourless when seen from close at hand, but faint blue-green
-as the glance travelled up the grim slope above. It was the real
-thing--an ice slope--a trial of strength to gladden heart and eye.
-The pick of the axe now came again into play. To economise labour
-and time, I cut large steps for the right foot only. These were deep
-enough to accommodate the four front spikes of the climbing iron, and
-thus afforded good support for the part of the foot below the ball of
-the big toe. By standing on the right foot alone, with the left knee
-in the small notches that served as steps for the left foot, I could
-work without tiring and in a well-balanced position. The ice was of
-the hardest. As many as thirty to forty blows went to the making of
-each large step, but a dozen served for the small, rough indentations
-into which the two front spikes of the left iron could bite as we
-climbed from one right foot step to the next above. Max kept close
-behind me; of shorter stature than I, he was kept busy hewing out here
-and there additional steps between my rather far apart ones. An hour
-went by. Away down at the bottom of the “blue precipitate stair” lay
-the bergschrund, but the upper end of the ice slope seemed to be as
-far off as ever. Then the ice steepened until it was so sheer that
-it was only just possible to retain one’s balance without having to
-make handholds. The work was really severe, and great care was needed
-in cutting; a single ill-aimed blow of the axe might easily have
-destroyed one’s equilibrium. Stones, freed from the grip of the frost
-by the warm rays of the sun, hurtled down past us in little avalanches
-from the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau, or skimmed giddily by, one
-by one, within half a rope’s length of us, down the glassy surface
-of the wall. Max, who had kept count of the steps since leaving the
-bergschrund, helped to mark our progress by announcing their number
-as each tenth one was finished. The three-hundred-and-twentieth step
-brought us almost level with the snow slopes of the upper surface of
-the hanging glacier and its séracs, and, turning towards our left, we
-began to traverse over towards it. A small bergschrund was the only
-barrier in the way. It proved a difficult little customer, and as a
-slip on the part of either was not to be risked, every precaution known
-to us was employed to cross it in safety. After making a huge step as
-near the upper lip as was practicable, I carved out a knob in the ice.
-This done, Max passed the rope behind the knob and thus belayed me
-securely while I clambered over the bergschrund on to the hard snows of
-the hanging glacier. There I cut two more large steps and, driving my
-axe in to the head, belayed Max’s rope over it while he made his way
-towards me. Then Max, in his turn, drove his axe in as far as the head
-and belayed me as, still cutting steps, I moved over to the less steep
-slopes on the left. As soon as the rope was paid out Max followed while
-belayed by me in the same manner. After cutting a further hundred steps
-or so, the angle of the slope became so much gentler that the climbing
-irons alone could be relied upon to bite firmly into the snow.
-
-Difficulties were over. Thenceforward a mere walk up easy snow slopes
-led to the gap that lies to the right of the well-known little snow
-peak in the Jungfraujoch (11,398 ft.), and at 10 a.m. we gained the
-ridge at a point about one hundred and fifty feet higher than the true
-pass. Below lay a black speck in the gleaming snow of the Jungfrau
-Glacier. It was the little pile of belongings which we had dumped there
-in the early morning, and in that dump were cooking apparatus, tea,
-sugar, biscuits--everything to gladden the heart of the mountaineer.
-For the doubtlessly magnificent view from the Jungfraujoch we had no
-eyes. Thirst and hunger hunted us forth. A short glissade down a snow
-slope, a little manœuvring that brought us safely across a diminutive
-bergschrund, and we were floundering knee-deep through soft, sodden
-snow to our provision depôt. There we made our first halt worthy of the
-name since leaving the Bergli hut nine hours previously and, at peace
-with ourselves and the world in general, enjoyed a well-earned rest
-while the cooking apparatus produced the means of ministering to our
-more material requirements.
-
-[Illustration: _Evening storm._]
-
-[Illustration: _Morning calm._
-
-  _Facing page 80._
-]
-
-Soon after 11 a.m. we were heading across the glacier to join the
-broad trail leading down from the Jungfrau towards the Concordia hut.
-The last lap in the journey proved to be the usual leaden finish to
-a golden day. The rucksacks containing our dumped belongings were
-unpleasantly heavy; the sun, so longed for in the chill, early hours of
-the morning, was now a source of discomfort, and the soft, moist snow
-under foot reflected a fierce glare. On nearing the Concordia Platz,
-that vast plain of ice, the meeting-place of four great glaciers of the
-Oberland, we took off the rope, having left the last of the concealed
-crevasses well behind. At 1.15 p.m., after boggling through innumerable
-puddles of icy water, we arrived on the rocky promontory on which stand
-the hôtel and the two Concordia huts. In all, we had been twelve hours
-_en route_.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-ON SKIS IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND
-
-
-With the coming of the Christmas vacation of 1908, Max and I, in
-accordance with our well-established custom, returned to Grindelwald.
-Having in the preceding summer become more intimately acquainted with
-the towering, snow-bound heights at whose feet nestles the winter sport
-resort _par excellence_ of the Oberland, short ski-ing expeditions to
-the Faulhorn, Männlichen and the other lesser satellites of the great
-Oberland giants no longer satisfied us. We were now eager to penetrate
-into the winter fastnesses of the glacier regions.
-
-Prior to the advent of skis in Switzerland, winter ascents of
-first-class peaks were, as a rule, formidable undertakings. Winter
-conditions in the mountains are quite different from those met with in
-the summer. Deep snow, often soft and powdery and requiring extremely
-careful treatment to avoid the danger of starting avalanches, lies
-right down into the valleys. Thus the ascent to the mountain club-hut,
-usually a simple matter in summer, is often in the cold season a long
-and arduous expedition. Frequently it is impossible to follow the usual
-route, and deviations involving hours of fatiguing stamping in snow,
-into which one sinks to the knee, or even deeper, at each step, may be
-necessary to steer clear of dangerous slopes and gullies. Simple rocks,
-when laden with their wintry cloak of snow, become difficult and demand
-great care in climbing. The lower reaches of glaciers, snow-free or
-“dry” in summer, are in winter clad in a deep, white pall that obscures
-crevasses with a covering deceptive and insecure for the human tread.
-Higher up, above the hut, differences are not so obvious, though they
-are far from non-existent. Cold may be severe. Changes in the weather
-seem to occur more suddenly and with less warning. A summer storm in
-the high Alps can be serious enough; but it is nothing to the ruthless,
-inhuman and deadly force of the elements let loose in winter. The
-snow, to all appearances perhaps the same, is yet different. One must
-constantly be on one’s guard against avalanches and snow-shields; the
-snow bridges across crevasses are deceiving in their massiveness. In
-summer, the experienced mountaineer can readily detect the presence
-of a chasm in a snow-covered glacier; but in winter he may find his
-judgment sadly at fault. These changed conditions have naturally
-undergone no alteration with the coming of skis; but skis enable one to
-mount long snow slopes and cross wide expanses without sinking deeply
-in, and thus, by relieving one of the labours of snow stamping, they
-reduce the fatigue consequent upon walking in snow. Also, owing to the
-fact that one’s weight is distributed over a much larger area, they
-diminish the danger of falling into crevasses. And again, they enable
-one to descend snow slopes at a far greater speed and with much less
-expenditure of energy than is possible without them.
-
-Christmas festivities and their usual after-effects failed to take
-the edge off our mountaineering keenness, and after breakfast on the
-26th, Max and I strapped on our skis in front of the Eiger Hotel and
-shouldered our knapsacks containing provisions, a rope and an axe each.
-Dr. Odo Tauern, an experienced mountaineer and first-rate ski-er,
-joined us. He was to accompany us to the Bergli hut where two friends
-were due to meet him on the 28th. From Grindelwald we ski-ed down into
-the valley, and crossed the Lütschinen stream by the bridge of the
-railway connecting Grindelwald with the Little Scheidegg. In winter,
-of course, this railway is not open. As a preliminary to facing the
-long pull up before us, we fastened on seal-skins under our skis.
-These are long strips of seal-skin which one fixes to the skis in such
-a manner that the lie of the hairs is such as to prevent one’s skis
-from slipping backwards when going uphill. We followed the railway
-track, diverging only in one place where it crosses the middle of a
-long, steep slope. Here the snow had drifted so that a smooth slope was
-left, and no sign of the railway was visible. The snow on the slope
-was bad, and thinking it highly probable that the making of ski-tracks
-over it would result in the formation of an avalanche, we preferred to
-work down underneath the slope and so avoid danger. Before arriving at
-the Little Scheidegg, we turned up to the left towards the Eiger and,
-mounting steeply, gained the Eiger Glacier station where the tunnel
-of the Jungfrau railway begins. Active tunnelling operations on the
-railway were then in full progress, and it was our intention to travel
-by one of the workmen’s trains to the Eismeer Glacier station, in those
-days the most advanced station on the track. As luck would have it, we
-just missed the last train and had to spend the night at the office
-of the engineer-in-chief, Herr Liechti, who received us with every
-possible kindness.
-
-At five o’clock next morning, with skis and other paraphernalia, we
-stepped out into the keen, cold air and trundled down to the entrance
-of the tunnel. Packed like the proverbial sardines into the railway
-carriage with a crowd of marvellously cheerful, Italian tunnelling
-workmen, who even at this miserable hour were able to sing their
-songs with zest, time passed rapidly enough until the Eismeer station
-was reached. Here we were led down a tunnel which broke through the
-rock at a point some thirty feet above the snow of the glacier, on
-to which we and our belongings were lowered on ropes. Strapping on
-our skis, we began to seek a way through the intricate icefall, over
-towards the Bergli hut. The ordinary summer route, which Max and I
-knew well enough, could not be used; it was far too much endangered by
-avalanches. The only alternative was to approach the lower Mönchjoch
-and descend to the hut. This involved finding a passage right up
-through the icefall, but by keeping close to the wonderful precipices
-of the Eiger, so steep that they were almost free from snow, a feasible
-way was found. In spite of our skis, it was hard work, so deep and
-soft was the snow. As the presence of crevasses in winter is often
-so extremely difficult of detection, and a fall into one cannot be
-arrested so quickly when on skis as without them, we were roped at
-a distance of seventy feet from man to man. In addition, Maxwell,
-who brought up the rear, carried a spare hundred-foot rope for use
-in case of emergency. Zig-zagging in and out between great pinnacles
-of ice, probing with the axe at each step for concealed crevasses,
-we had almost passed through the icefall and were not far below the
-lower Mönchjoch, when an opportunity of working over to the left,
-towards the snow slopes above the rocks whereon the Bergli hut stands,
-revealed itself. It was obvious that caution would be necessary in
-effecting the crossing, not on account of avalanches or the danger of
-treading loose a snow-shield, for the ground was hardly steep enough
-for that, but because the new route, instead of leading us at right
-angles across crevasses, led in the general direction in which the
-crevasses lay; that is, _along_ instead of _across_ them. Using the
-axe to discover the whereabouts of crevasses was by no means always
-effective; in places the snow was so soft and deep that the axe could
-be plunged in right to the head without meeting with the resistance
-that betokened the presence of firm, safe snow, or that lack of
-resistance indicating the void that meant danger. On this part of
-the journey, therefore, we had to rely to a great extent upon mere
-external appearances. We had all but gained the slopes just below the
-Mönchjoch and above the Bergli hut, when Tauern suddenly broke clean
-through a snow bridge. The violent shock of his weight coming on the
-rope dragged me backwards on my skis for a yard or two and my brother
-forward; thus Tauern had completely disappeared before we could arrest
-his fall. Try as we would, we were unable to pull him up. So Max
-crossed the crevasse at another point, and together, heaving with all
-our might and main, we managed to pull our companion over to one side
-of the chasm, and even raise him until his head was almost level with
-the edge of the hole through which he had broken. Still hanging in the
-crevasse, he unfastened and threw his skis up to us, and also gave us
-the much-needed information as to the direction in which the walls
-of his prison ran. It was then an easy matter for me to approach the
-brink of the crevasse and push the shaft of an axe in underneath the
-rope by which Max held Tauern suspended, and thus prevent its cutting
-more deeply into the snow. After I had cleared away some of the snow,
-leaving a channel, Tauern, aided by the united pull of my brother and
-I, was able at last to set foot above ground again.
-
-This is the first and last time that I have seen a man fall into a
-crevasse in winter. It is not an experience to be repeated lightly; it
-had been by no means an easy task for two of us to get our comrade
-out, and had he been unequal to assisting us and not the capable and
-ready-witted mountaineer that he is, the task might well have been
-an insuperable one. Mountaineers to-day seem somewhat inclined to
-under-rate the dangers of falling into a crevasse. In summer, except
-perhaps immediately after heavy falls of fresh snow, it should be
-possible for a party to avoid this danger altogether. But in winter,
-the greatest care and experience, combined with keenness of vision, are
-necessary to steer clear of making the acquaintance of the interior of
-a crevasse--an acquaintance which may, if one is fortunate, be merely
-unpleasant, but is likely to result in very grave danger indeed.[3]
-
-[Illustration: _The Eismeer icefall._
-
-_The Bergli hut stands on the rock ridge to the left centre._]
-
-[Illustration: _Sounding a snowbridge._
-
-  _Facing page 86._
-]
-
-After Tauern had shaken his clothes as free from snow as possible
-and put on his skis, we set off once more. Meeting with no further
-adventure, we reached the slopes above the hut. Here we left our skis,
-planting them upright in the snow, and then plunged down thigh-deep
-to the hut. It was just on nightfall. Being mid-winter, it was not
-surprising that the thermometer inside the hut registered 42° F. of
-frost. But there was a compensating abundance of wood and blankets.
-Like most of the Swiss Alpine Club huts, the Bergli is soundly built
-with a view, _inter alia_, to conservation of heat in its interior;
-and it was not long after lighting the fire, upon which we placed pans
-full of snow to procure water for cooking purposes, that a pleasant,
-comforting warmth was suffused throughout the little building. In those
-days Max and I rather fancied ourselves as cooks. But Tauern, whose
-mountain experience was greater than ours, had stocked his knapsack
-with such a supply of well-chosen dainties, forming a marked contrast
-to our own stodgy and unromantic though filling and nourishing food,
-that there was nothing for it but to come off our pedestals and act as
-mere assistants. That evening we enjoyed a wonderful dinner of many
-courses. As it was the first really square meal we had indulged in
-since leaving Grindelwald, our appetites came well up to scratch. At
-peace with ourselves and the world, we presently turned in to sleep.
-Being alone in the hut, the supply of blankets was in excess of our
-needs; each man slept on three spread on the straw of the bunks and
-covered himself with half a dozen more. With the exception of boots
-and coats, we slept in our out-door clothes. The warmth inside the hut
-lasted until well past midnight; but long before daybreak, in spite
-of our many coverings, the cold disturbed our slumbers, and at five
-o’clock we were glad to throw back the blankets, all frosted where the
-moisture from our breath had condensed and frozen upon them, and get
-up and light the fire. After breakfast we thawed our boots against the
-stove, and put them and puttees on. Still inside the hut, we roped and
-shortly after sunrise set off towards the lower Mönchjoch.
-
-It was laborious work forcing our way up towards the skis, for the
-snow was as soft as ever. The day was gloriously fine; the sky was
-cloudless; strange, cold, yellowish-green near the horizon, but
-deepening to a pale, hard blue overhead. Most of the peaks about us
-were already bathed in the warm light of the sun, but we ourselves were
-still in the shade. Presently we reached the spot where we had left
-our skis. Snow ploughing was at an end; with these useful things on
-our feet we no longer sank deeply into the snow and, forging a zig-zag
-track, soon arrived at the lower Mönchjoch and into the sunshine--a
-pleasant relief after the cold shadow. The bergschrund below the lower
-Mönchjoch was choked with masses of snow, and we ski-ed down over it
-and across a short slope on to the plateau of the Ewigschneefeld,
-stirring up merry clouds of snow dust in our wake. We had planned to
-cross the upper Mönchjoch and climb the Jungfrau. But from the lower
-Mönchjoch, the presence of fish-shaped clouds behind the Jungfrau and
-a fresh and gusty west wind gave warning of a possible change in the
-weather. However, we shuffled over the Ewigschneefeld, deciding to
-wait until arriving at the upper Mönchjoch before coming to a definite
-decision as to further movements. But no improvement in the weather
-outlook took place; on the contrary, things had taken a distinct turn
-for the worse, and the wind was occasionally strong enough to prove
-troublesome by whirling up streamers of snow dust in our faces. To
-try the Jungfrau under these conditions would have been unwise; so we
-decided to content ourselves with climbing the Mönch. From the upper
-Mönchjoch, the most convenient line of ascent to the summit lies over
-the south-east ridge. Using skis as far as possible, we mounted until
-we reached a point on the ridge where the wind had swept the rocks free
-from snow. These were perfectly easy; so gentle was the slope that it
-was not even necessary to use one’s hands. Beyond was a snow ridge,
-the steeper portion of which was quite simple, though the final part
-needed some care in negotiating. It was covered by an immense snow
-cornice, overhanging on the right, and, in order to avoid walking on it
-and incurring the risk of its breaking away, we had to keep well down
-to the left where the presence of ice occasionally necessitated the
-cutting of steps. Shortly after half-past ten we gained the spacious,
-snow-capped summit of the Mönch. A little way down on the north side,
-we found complete shelter from the wind which had now veered round and
-was blowing from the south. We sat for a whole hour, feeling none too
-warm perhaps, but revelling in the wonderful view spread out at our
-feet. A dense, moving sea of cloud, which rose to an altitude of seven
-or eight thousand feet, blotted out the plains; and here and there
-midst the softly-foaming billows, snow-capped summits, like little
-islands, thrust their gleaming heads.
-
-On turning to make our way down again, we found that the wind had
-risen and was whipping up into our faces great streamers of snow from
-summit and from ridge. The stinging sensation of the wind-driven snow
-spicules as they struck the unprotected skin was painful if also
-exhilarating, and, retracing our steps as fast as we could, we eagerly
-sought the comparative shelter of the upper Mönchjoch. The descent was
-without incident, and, after regaining our skis, we sped back with
-all haste over the lower Mönchjoch towards the Bergli hut. Above the
-hut we espied two strange pairs of skis planted upright in the snow.
-No tracks, however, were visible; the wind-blown snow had levelled
-them out. We arrived at the hut at 1.30 p.m., an hour and a half
-after leaving the summit of the Mönch; and stepping into the pleasant
-shelter, were greeted by Tauern’s friends who had come to keep their
-tryst with him.
-
-In view of the almost certain approach of bad weather, Max and I now
-made the mistake of not continuing our descent to the Eismeer. The
-others had ample provisions to tide them over an enforced stay in the
-hut, but our own stores were sufficient for only one, or at the most
-two, more meals. Loth to leave the pleasant companionship of the others
-and the warm, hospitable shelter of the hut, we decided to remain for
-the night and go down to the Eismeer on the following morning.
-
-During the night snow fell heavily. Next day, after a belated
-breakfast, Max and I, in spite of the fresh snow and the fact that
-the weather, though quiet, was still uncertain, decided to set out.
-Everything was obscured in mist. Tauern, more aware of the danger of
-our plans than we, did his utmost to dissuade us. The thought, however,
-that our remaining in the hut would spoil his and his companions’
-climbing programme, through unexpected depletion of their supplies,
-settled the matter. Max and I put on the rope and, with the others’
-wishes for good luck, set off. The struggle up through the soft, deep
-snow to our skis, left sticking some two hundred feet above the hut,
-was most laborious. Less troublesome was the long traverse towards the
-head of the icefall, close under the cliffs of the Eiger. I doubt,
-however, if either of us realised the great danger we were incurring
-here. Owing to the recent snow fall, it was doubly difficult to
-detect the presence of crevasses, and, though we made use of every
-precaution then known to us, I have no doubt that it was sheer good
-luck that saw us across more than one snow bridge in safety. Had either
-broken well through into a crevasse, it is most unlikely that the
-other, unaided, could have pulled him out. But fortune was with us.
-Notwithstanding dense mists, wind, and lashing snow dust, we kept in
-the right direction, and when hard under the cliffs of the Eiger, of
-the proximity of which the reflected sound of a shout gave adequate
-indication, we turned down through the icefall. Struggling along
-through the deep snow had resulted in our underclothing getting wet,
-and we began to feel the cold. To add to our discomfort, the descent
-of particularly steep pitches necessitated the removal of our skis,
-and the continual taking off and refastening of these became a trying
-task for the fingers. However, things went passably well despite minor
-troubles, and we had almost reached the safe ground below the icefall
-when I felt a tremendous wind sweep down upon me from _above_. Next
-moment, almost before I had become aware of what was happening, I was
-choking for breath in the dense snow dust of an avalanche falling down
-upon us from the cliffs of the Eiger. Max was about a hundred feet
-behind me at the full length of the rope and, as luck would have it,
-clear of the falling stream of dust. He could see me disappear as the
-thick snow cloud enveloped me. The snow fell until I was buried to
-above my head, and, just as I thought I would be stifled, the avalanche
-mercifully ceased. By keeping my hands above me and moving them as if
-I were swimming, I had left a sort of funnel through which I could get
-some air. Fortunately the snow dust had not packed firmly, and after
-herculean efforts I succeeded in twisting my feet loose from my buried
-skis and, helped by Max’s pull on the rope, was able to free myself
-from the unpleasant situation. As my skis were absolutely indispensable
-for the completion of the descent, we had to set about recovering them;
-but it was not until we had grovelled for nearly an hour in the floury
-snow that they were found.
-
-Five minutes later we stood below the entrance of the railway tunnel.
-This, it will be remembered, was separated from the snow upon which we
-now stood by a rocky wall some thirty feet high and unclimbable in its
-lower part. We shouted ourselves hoarse in an endeavour to attract the
-attention of workmen who might be in the tunnel, but all to no purpose.
-In the end we had to fall back upon self-help. Taking off the rope,
-we made a noose and then set to work to try and lasso a large iron
-pin which had been driven into the rock a few feet below the entrance
-of the tunnel. Cast after cast failed, each flung wide by the gusts
-of an erratic wind. A quarter of an hour at this game showed us that
-we had over-estimated our prowess with the lasso; but at last a throw
-succeeded. A twitch or two of the rope settled the noose firmly on the
-pin, and I then proceeded to try and haul myself up hand over hand; but
-the struggle in the avalanche had sapped my strength to such an extent
-that I failed miserably. Then Max tried, and after a desperate battle
-grasped the pin. As soon as he was up he hauled in the knapsacks, axes
-and skis. He next fastened one end of the rope to the pin while I tied
-the other about my waist. Then, with Max hauling with all his might,
-I struggled up. After a rest, we gathered together our belongings and
-walked up the tunnel towards the station. Even now, troubles were not
-at an end. The entrance to the station was barred by an iron grating.
-Outside was a bell with a polite invitation to ring. We accepted with
-all our hearts. But for nearly half an hour we stood there, shivering
-in the fierce, cold draught that swept up from the glacier world
-without. At last, just when we were beginning to despair of attracting
-anyone’s attention, a tunnelling foreman came and opened the gate.
-Noticing our plight at once, he led us to the engine house and tucked
-us in between two great compressed air cylinders belonging to the
-Ingersoll rock-drilling outfit. There we slept, warm and comfortable,
-until it was time to descend by one of the workmen’s trains. As night
-had fallen ere we arrived at the Eiger Glacier station, it was too late
-to continue our way to Grindelwald, but the engineer-in-chief once
-again proffered hospitality.
-
-Next morning Max, who had suffered frost-bite in one heel, had
-difficulty in getting on his boots; but once this painful task
-was accomplished and our skis were strapped on, all went well.
-Three-quarters of an hour later we were mounting the slopes beyond the
-Lütschinen stream towards Grindelwald, the Eiger Hôtel and comfort.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[3] In connection with the wearing of the rope on glaciers, attention
-should be drawn to the fact that the so-called “middleman noose,” a
-knot which is warmly advocated in many quarters, must never be used. It
-is a slip-knot.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-ON SKIS IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND (_continued_)
-
-
-In later years we visited many other parts of the Alps on skis; but
-it was not until the Easter of 1914 that we returned to the great
-glaciers of the Oberland. On April 9, I boarded the continental
-train at Charing Cross and, on the following day, joined my brother
-in Zürich, where he was completing his studies. My arrival being
-totally unexpected, I was indeed fortunate in finding him free from
-climbing plans and obligations. Next evening at eight o’clock we were
-in Wengen. After dinner, and having written a few letters informing
-relatives and friends that we were off for a week’s ski-ing mid the
-peaks of the Bernese Oberland, we put on skis and, at 10 p.m., left
-the Schönegg Hôtel. The moon shone brightly, and we strode up the
-buried railway track through a land of silver dominated by the great
-ghostly shapes of that wonderful Alpine trinity, the Eiger, Mönch and
-Jungfrau. All shuttered up and deserted were the railway station and
-collection of hôtels at the Little Scheidegg--a forlorn colony of the
-dead. In the eerie magic of an hour past midnight, we should not have
-been astonished had a ghostly throng of perspiring trippers appeared
-from nowhere and begun that fight for seats of vantage on the train,
-which we had more than once witnessed during the bright sunny days of
-a summer season. Braving the possible presence of the supernatural,
-however, we paused here to indulge in the infinitely prosaic--a meal
-of dry bread and raw bacon fat, our favourite winter tit-bit!
-
-Soon we were off again up the railway track. The snow throughout was
-safe and in perfect condition, and at 3 a.m. we reached the Eiger
-Glacier station. We saw the engineer on duty, who most kindly undertook
-to make the necessary arrangements for a special train to be at our
-disposal after breakfast. Unwilling to disturb others, we contented
-ourselves with a table each for bed and slept soundly until after
-sunrise. The train left just after eight. During the six years that
-had elapsed since our last visit, considerable progress had been made,
-and the tunnel completed up to the Jungfraujoch. The railway track,
-however, was not yet finished, and the walk from the train to the Joch
-was no easy matter, as the final section of the tunnel was still in the
-rough stage. Thanks to the kind offers of one of the tunnelling foremen
-who remembered us from the winter of 1908, we were provided with a warm
-meal at a trifling cost.
-
-With the good wishes of all the staff, we stepped out of the tunnel at
-noon on the 12th and, descending carefully over a steep snow slope,
-crossed a small snow-choked bergschrund on to the Jungfrau Glacier.
-Here we put on skis and, leaving the heavy knapsacks to be picked up on
-the return journey, headed for the Mönchjoch. We wore the rope, though,
-at this time of the year and with the snow in its present condition,
-there was no difficulty in detecting the presence of crevasses or
-in sounding with the axe and accurately estimating the strength of
-snow bridges. The weather was sunny and windless, and, though the
-temperature in the shade was far below freezing, we gradually divested
-ourselves of coats and shirts and arrived in the lower Mönchjoch
-stripped to the waist, but fresh and aglow from the exertion. There
-we were accosted by the gentlest of breezes; sufficient, nevertheless,
-to persuade us to resume some of our discarded coverings. The skis,
-not needed for the time being, were left behind as we turned up the
-south-east ridge of the Mönch. The climb up the ridge was as easy as
-I have ever known it, so good were the conditions. Along the final,
-almost level section, we found the remains of old steps which we at
-first followed. Presently, however, we forsook them. According to
-our views, they went dangerously close to, and were sometimes even
-on, the overhanging portion of the immense cornice which adorns the
-crest of this part of the ridge. We preferred to keep well down on the
-steep slope to the left, though such a procedure did involve a little
-step-cutting. At 3 p.m. we paid our third visit to the summit of the
-Mönch. Filmy mists of the kind that the mountaineer usually associates
-with fair, settled weather floated up from the north and enveloped us
-almost immediately. Despite a fresh breeze from the south-west, they
-clung tenaciously about us, completely obscuring the view. For nearly
-an hour we waited for things to clear; but in vain. Too chilled to
-prolong our stay, we sought warmth in action and turned back towards
-the Mönchjoch. As we passed along the highest section of the ridge, I
-re-cut one or two of the steps. Suddenly I was startled by a crashing
-noise, followed by a thunderous roar, as almost the whole of the
-great cornice broke away for a distance of about a hundred yards in
-front and fifty yards behind us and fell down in a mighty avalanche
-towards the Eismeer. Where a moment previously the view to the left
-had been shut off by a steep snow wall, I now had an uninterrupted
-survey down the precipice, from the brink of which I was separated by
-a distance of only an inch or two. At first we were a little startled
-by the suddenness of the happening, but later regarded it as merely
-another demonstration of the fact that, if mountaineering is to be a
-safe pursuit, knowledge and the exercise of care are indispensable.
-Although much of the ridge along which we now had to pass was still
-heavily corniced, we had faith in the safety of the tracks we had left
-on ascending and, following these, made our way down to our skis.
-Strapping them on and coiling up the rope, we skimmed in a sheer
-riot of exhilaration down towards the Jungfraujoch, keeping as much
-as possible to our previous tracks. It being our intention to make
-the Concordia hut our home for the next few days, we recovered our
-knapsacks and, at 5 p.m., set off down the Jungfrau Glacier on the last
-lap of the day’s journey.
-
-The run down the glacier was somewhat spoilt by the fact that the
-weight of our knapsacks rendered crevasse-dodging rather difficult
-unless the pace of travel was kept down by frequent braking. Far
-from easy to negotiate, too, were the occasional patches of snow,
-hard-crusted by the action of the fierce winds that from time to time
-sweep up this glacier in winter. It was, however, a wonderful evening.
-There was no cause for haste, so we halted frequently to ease our
-shoulders of the weight of the knapsacks and to point out to each other
-old friends amongst the surrounding peaks. We had last crossed the
-Concordia Platz in the summer of 1909. Then we had found it a vast,
-almost level expanse of glacier covered with an abominable slush of
-snow and water. But now it was in the grip of winter. We ambled and
-slid over a dry, powdery snow surface, the soft, fresh breezes of dusk
-playing about us and cooling the flush that exercise had called to our
-faces. A little, fairly steep slope lay between the edge of the glacier
-and the rocks on which the Concordia hut stands. I ski-ed down this
-slope and brought up with a Christiania swing; but not in time to
-prevent twisting my left ankle against a stone--a painful experience,
-though no bones were broken, and, beyond the throbbing pain, I seemed
-to suffer no inconvenience. We climbed up the almost snow-free rocks
-and, at 7.30 p.m., arrived in the hut. By this time there remained
-to us but faded memories of our last meal, and it was not until ten
-o’clock that our ravenous appetites were satisfied.
-
-[Illustration: _Cornices on the Punta Margherita._]
-
-[Illustration: _A cornice on the Rôchefort ridge._
-
-  _Facing page 98._
-]
-
-Next morning, after a night of wonderful sleep, we awoke at 9.30. The
-weather was doubtful, with cloudy skies and a gusty wind varying in
-quarter from west to south. Shortly before midday, after alternating
-between hopes and fears as to the prospects of being able to do
-something by way of an excursion, we left the hut, carrying only the
-rope and a little chocolate, it being our humble intention to potter
-about on the Concordia Platz. However, after putting on the skis,
-which had been left down on the glacier, we decided that, though the
-clouds and the wind gusts were still as evident as ever, the weather
-might hold out sufficiently long to enable us to climb the Ebnefluh. We
-crossed the Concordia Platz and, mounting up the main Aletsch Glacier,
-eventually turned up the Ebnefluh Glacier and headed almost straight
-for the summit of our peak. We were able to keep the skis on until
-within a few hundred feet of the top. Had the snow been powdery and
-suitable for ski-ing instead of hard and frozen, we might have ski-ed
-right on to the summit. At 6 p.m. we had gained the highest point.
-The most striking feature of the view from the summit of the Ebnefluh
-(13,005 ft.) is the wonderful outlook it affords over the tremendous
-precipices falling away to the Rotthal Valley, one of the wildest and
-most secluded and, from the climber’s point of view, most interesting
-valleys in the Alps.
-
-We had put on the rope on leaving the skis, but even on foot, by
-exercising ordinary, reasonable caution, there was no danger of falling
-into a crevasse. With the passage from early to late winter, glacier
-conditions suffer enormous change. I have previously pointed out how
-the winter snows form most unreliable bridges over crevasses and often
-mask them so effectively that the vision of even the most experienced
-mountaineer is sometimes unable to detect them. But later on, towards
-the close of the winter season, usually in March and almost always in
-April, the keen mountaineer will never be at fault in this respect.
-I am frequently at a loss to explain to a less experienced companion
-how this can be. Perhaps long experience in the mountains tends to
-develop in one an extra and particular sense which warns one of the
-proximity of hidden crevasses; but to those who wish a more scientific
-explanation, I would draw attention to the following facts. Towards
-the end of winter the snow is more consolidated, that is, packed more
-closely by reason of its own weight and the effect of wind. Where snow
-is unsupported from below, that is, where it lies over a crevasse, a
-slight, sometimes almost imperceptible hollow will be formed on its
-surface. These hollows, slight though they be, betray themselves to
-the experienced eye by the difference in the shade of the light that
-they reflect and thus give warning of the existence of a crevasse.
-In the earlier part of the winter, the snow, as a rule, has not had
-time to “pack” sufficiently to form such hollows, and the detection of
-chasms is therefore immeasurably more difficult. A heated controversy
-is now raging amongst ski-ing experts as to whether the rope should
-be worn when ski-ing on glaciers in winter. It is by no means easy
-for a party roped together to keep the rope taut while ski-ing down
-a glacier, without inflicting bad jerks and causing each other to
-fall. For this reason the rope is considered by many ski-ers to be an
-unmitigated nuisance. Hence the rise of the two contesting parties. To
-me, the question does not seem to admit of an answering unqualified
-“Yes” or “No.” Owing to the difficulty of sighting crevasses during the
-beginning and middle of winter, the wearing of the rope at these times
-should certainly be urged, even on the simplest of glaciers. But the
-rope must be worn properly, kept taut from man to man; and as one’s
-rate of travel is far greater on skis than without, and the difficulty
-of holding a man who has fallen into a crevasse is proportionally
-greater, there should be not less than a hundred feet of rope between
-each member of the party. Later on in the season, an experienced party
-may unhesitatingly dispense with the rope on glacier expeditions,
-provided that they are not only adept ski-ers with full command of
-their skis, but really skilled mountaineers, with eyes open, ever on
-their guard against the hidden dangers of the mountains.
-
-Owing to the lateness of the hour, our halt on the top of the Ebnefluh
-was a brief one. Within five minutes of leaving the summit we were back
-at our skis, rubbing them fondly with grease in anticipation of a swift
-run home. With veils of snow dust flying out behind us, we whizzed down
-on to the Aletsch Glacier and, half sliding, half shuffling, worked
-across the Concordia Platz, arriving in the hut just after nightfall.
-
-On the 14th we were up at the fairly reasonable hour of six, but though
-the weather was calm and fine we did not launch out on any ambitious
-programme. My ankle, though no longer very painful, was so swollen that
-I had great difficulty in getting on my boot. Thinking, however, that
-a little exercise would do no harm, we ski-ed up to the Grünhornlücke
-and climbed a neighbouring peak called the Weissnollen (11,841 ft.).
-What with my ankle and the deep powdery snow, it took us three hours to
-plough our way up to the former. The return from the Grünhornlücke to
-the hut, however, was accomplished in barely fifteen minutes.
-
-Early next morning, dense mists surrounded the hut, and snow was
-falling fast. At 9 a.m. we looked out, to find the snow had ceased
-and the mists were being blown away by a fierce north-easter. But we
-dallied until the weather became more certain, and at a quarter to
-eleven set off for the Fiescherhorn. To climb the Fiescherhorn, it was
-necessary to gain the upper level of the Ewigschneefeld above its great
-icefall. By keeping to the left bank of the latter, we succeeded in
-finding a passage without having to remove our skis; but by the time
-the glacier above had been gained, the weather had taken a turn for the
-worse, and in the end we had to content ourselves with climbing the
-Walcherhorn (12,155 ft.). Skis were kept on right up to the summit.
-No view rewarded our labours. Mists clung about us, and a cold wind
-hastened our retreat. Through the clouds, keeping to our former tracks,
-we ran down to the head of the icefall. Then came five wonderfully
-exciting minutes as, in and out of crevasses and séracs, we twisted and
-turned and sped, without a halt, out on to the unbroken slopes below
-the icefall and down to the Concordia Platz, to reach home in time for
-four o’clock tea.
-
-We voted the next day to be one of rest. The strain of manœuvring
-through the icefall of the Ewigschneefeld had caused my ankle to swell
-up again, and Max was suffering from a cough which made him declare he
-felt ready for a coffin. It was beautifully clear weather when we rose
-from our sleeping bunks at one o’clock, and the rest of the day was
-spent sitting in the sun in front of the hut, Max wrapped up in layers
-of blankets in an attempt to sweat out his cold, while I, between meal
-times, endeavoured to allay the inflammation of my ankle with frequent
-applications of bandages soaked in ice-cold water.
-
-On April 17, we were up before daybreak and left the hut at seven
-o’clock, bound for the Jungfrau. Once again a bright sun shone from a
-cloudless sky and a dead calm reigned. So warm was it that our progress
-was a most moderate one and punctuated by many rests. At one o’clock we
-gained the large bergschrund immediately under the Rotthal Sattel and
-there left the skis. Fifty minutes later, having mounted for the most
-part in perfect snow and having found it necessary to cut only a few
-steps, we were on the summit of the Jungfrau (13,668 ft.). It was our
-fifth visit to the Queen of the Oberland; she had always received us
-well, but never so kindly as on this late winter afternoon of cloudless
-sky and total absence of wind. Much though we would have preferred
-to dally, our stay had to be cut short; for a deficiency in certain
-articles of provisions rendered necessary a visit to the Jungfraujoch
-on the way back. Threading a way down on to the glacier and then
-mounting a steep little snow slope, we arrived, in due course, at the
-tunnel of the Jungfraujoch station where we loaded up fresh supplies,
-not forgetting wax for the skis which were no longer slipping as freely
-as they should. After re-waxing them, we sped down to the edge of the
-Concordia Platz in ten short minutes. The temptation to loaf there in
-the sun proved irresistible, and it was not until six o’clock that we
-arrived back in our little winter home.
-
-It was our plan to tackle the Grüneckhorn and the Gross Grünhorn on the
-following day; a more ambitious undertaking than any we had attempted
-this season. The weather was doubtful when we looked out just before
-sunrise. A south wind was driving rolling banks of mist up the Aletsch
-Glacier, and cloud caps, omens of evil weather, had settled on the
-summits of all the greater mountains. By eight o’clock no improvement
-had taken place, so we decided to shift our abode and cross the
-Grünhornlücke to the Finsteraarhorn hut. An hour later, just as we
-were preparing to leave, the north wind at last seemed on the point of
-gaining the ascendancy over the south, and the weather took a distinct
-turn for the better. We straightway made up our minds to adhere to our
-original plan. With a rope slung over Max’s shoulder, and a camera and
-a few provisions in my pockets, we ski-ed up towards the prominent gap
-in the south-west ridge of the Grüneckhorn. Before reaching it, the
-badly crevassed nature of the glacier and the icy condition of the snow
-forced us to leave the skis. We put on the rope and kicked a way up
-in snow that was so hard and good that we never sank in to more than
-ankle-depth. From the gap onwards, we followed a delightful ice ridge
-which forced us to a free use of the ice-axe in cutting steps. Knowing
-that there was not much time to spare, we worked with a will and,
-shortly after one o’clock, gained the summit of the Grüneckhorn (12,500
-ft.). The climb from here along the snow-free rock ridge to the summit
-of the Gross Grünhorn was child’s play. The weather was perfect; and
-no cold wind whipped our faces. We might almost have been climbing on
-a fine summer’s day, so warm were the rocks, and so good the climbing
-conditions. We sat on the top of the Gross Grünhorn (13,278 ft.) till
-well after three. The view from this summit is almost unique. One is
-so closed in on all sides by great peaks that, no matter where the eye
-roves, it rests on nothing save rock and ice and perpetual snow. No
-green valleys suggesting the homes of human folk are there to offer a
-contrast to the sterner majesty of nature.
-
-Within three-quarters of an hour of leaving the summit, we were back
-on the Grüneckhorn, and there conceived the idea of descending by the
-hitherto unclimbed south face, a tremendously steep snow slope through
-which rocks jutted out here and there. The wonderful condition of the
-snow tempted us to this decision. Under less favourable circumstances,
-indeed, such a venture might well have led to trouble. Facing inwards
-towards the steep snow, we kicked our way downwards step by step,
-surely but quickly, and crossed the bergschrund at the foot of the
-slope without the slightest difficulty. Twenty minutes after leaving
-the summit, we were back at our skis and a quarter of an hour later had
-entered the hut.
-
-According to programme, we were due at the Finsteraarhorn hut on
-Sunday the 19th. The barometer had fallen so low, however, and the
-weather had become so threatening, that we entertained scant hopes of
-being able to carry our projects into effect. We waited till midday,
-but no improvement took place; so we packed up to return home via the
-Lötschenlücke and the Lötschberg railway. Steering by map and compass,
-we crossed the Concordia Platz and mounted the main Aletsch Glacier
-through thick mists and gently-falling snow. At four o’clock we left
-the Lötschenlücke, having paused at the Egon von Steiger hut, close to
-the pass, for lunch. In a few minutes we had run down below the cloud
-level. From the ski-ing point of view, the snow was bad, possessing
-almost throughout a hard, thick, frozen crust which made it difficult
-for one to exert proper control over the skis. The strap of one of
-Max’s bindings, cut by the crusted snow, gave way, and replacing it
-by a spare was no easy matter, for the narrow little slit in the ski,
-through which the spare had to be threaded, was partly blocked with
-ice. Lower down the snow was deep and wet and of such a consistency
-that we seemed to be running through treacle.
-
-Just before reaching the little village of Blatten in the Lötschen
-Valley, we took off the skis and trudged down the long path to
-Goppenstein where we caught the train for Zürich, little thinking that
-we were turning our backs on the mountains and all that they meant to
-us for the next five years.
-
-There is much to be said for winter mountaineering. In summer, if one
-wishes to climb the Jungfrau or any other similar mountain, the ascent
-of which involves a lengthy walk on snow-covered glaciers, one must
-start very early, well before daybreak; otherwise, the sun will have
-softened the snow so much that the ascent, and still more the descent,
-will be most laborious. On skis and in winter, this nightmare of a
-long and wearisome trudge in soft snow hardly exists. The return from
-a climb, especially, is a simple and almost effortless affair. Again,
-fewer people by far climb in the winter season, and, if one so wishes,
-one’s solitude need not be disturbed. Throughout this glorious week in
-the Oberland we had had the huts and the mountains all to ourselves.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-A WINTER’S NIGHT ON THE TÖDI
-
-BY MAXWELL B. I. FINCH
-
-
-Bad weather and unfavourable conditions had too often caused the
-postponement of several winter climbs, among them a long-planned ascent
-of the Tödi on skis. At length, towards the end of the winter term of
-1911, a week-end arrived, sunny and bright, heralding the approach
-of spring. On the fourth eager inquiry the Meteorological Office
-gave a not too dismal reply, with the result that the laboratories
-and drawing-boards of Zürich’s Polytechnic suddenly seemed very
-unattractive. The reply came at 11 a.m. on Saturday, March 11. After
-rapid preparations and a hurried lunch, a party of five, consisting
-of Obexer, Morgenthaler, Weber, Forster, and myself, boarded the 1.30
-p.m. train for Linthal. George was unable to join us, being in the
-throes of his final examinations. At Zürich-Enge, the first stop of the
-train, we were reduced to four, since Forster left us to chase after a
-porter to whose care he had entrusted his skis and rucksack, and who,
-of course, failed to put in an appearance at the right moment. Just
-beyond the village of Linthal, the terminus of our journey by rail,
-we put on the skis, the heavy snowfalls of the previous week having
-lowered the snow-line far down into the valleys. At Tierfehd, an hour
-beyond the village, the road ends. At the foot of the steep path which
-leads thence over the Panten bridge we adjusted seal-skins. At 11 p.m.
-we arrived at the alp-huts of Hintersand (4,285 ft.), where a halt of
-half an hour was made for supper. The following steep rise up to the
-Tentiwang showed various traces of avalanches, but was certainly safe
-at that hour of the night. Two members of our party were comparatively
-inexperienced mountaineers; Obexer and I were, therefore, disturbed
-when Weber, one of the two novices, led up this part rather too
-energetically, for a killing pace on the first day often means a winded
-man on the morrow. At one spot before reaching the Tentiwang pastures,
-a short but steep slope of ice-covered rocks cost us much hard labour
-and time. We had to replace the skis by crampons, cut steps and finally
-pull up rucksacks and skis on the rope.
-
-From the Tentiwang (5,250 ft.) the usual summer route towards the
-Bifertenalpeli was chosen, the snow being firmly frozen and quite safe.
-Had the snow been unsafe, we should have mounted straight up to, and
-over, the end of the glacier which is generally the better and safer
-way to the hut in winter. At 3 a.m. we stepped into the St. Fridolin’s
-club-hut (6,910 ft.). Nowhere during the whole ascent had a lantern
-been required, as the full moon lit up the snows with almost dazzling
-brilliancy.
-
-Much snow had to be cleared out of the hut, especially off straw on the
-bunks, before it became habitable. The woodshed was choked with snow,
-and we had great difficulty in lighting a fire. Unfortunately, none of
-us had brought a spirit lamp or cooking apparatus, so it was 5 a.m.,
-nearly dawn, when we turned in.
-
-[Illustration: _The Tödi._
-
-“King of the Little Mountains.”
-
-  _Facing page 108._
-]
-
-Somewhat after 9 a.m. we awoke. Preparations for our departure
-proceeded unusually slowly, owing to the trouble again experienced in
-lighting the stove. Although it was noon when we at length started
-off, we were fully determined to accomplish the climb that day. The
-weather was perfect, clear and calm, the temperature being well below
-freezing-point. In summer the ascent would take some six hours. We
-reckoned rather more now, because in winter one must as a rule follow
-a different route, discovered by Mr. D. W. Freshfield, which passes
-through the two great icefalls of the Biferten Glacier. Therefore,
-allowing eight, or at the outside ten hours, in which to gain the
-summit, we counted on re-entering the hut not later than 3 a.m. Even
-should this not be the case, the moon would give us ample light till 5
-a.m., and at 6 a.m. dawn would follow after a solitary hour’s darkness.
-All things considered, we looked forward to the climb in the light of a
-pleasant adventure and thanked the fate which had led us into making a
-midnight ascent.
-
-Gaily rejoicing in the excellent weather and conditions, we broke
-trail in the deep snow from the hut across and up the glacier towards
-the Grünhorn icefall. The weakest spot in this obstacle is an almost
-crevasseless ledge which commences near the right bank of the glacier
-and, sloping towards the walls of the Tödi, leads to the next plateau
-of the glacier. Following this line of least resistance, we made slow
-but steady headway till close under the greater, steeper, and far more
-seriously broken icefall hard by the Gelbe Wand. The year before,
-in the spring, without skis, George had led a party up this icefall
-without encountering any real difficulty. Some distance below the base,
-and in clear view of the icefall, we called rather a lengthy halt in
-order to spy out the best line of ascent. After some deliberation,
-we decided to deliver an attack more or less at the same place as
-last spring. However, from the distance, we had our doubts about one
-step, where a wall of upright and partly overhanging ice stretched
-right across the glacier. This wall was probably the upper edge of a
-bridged-over crevasse and appeared to be some twelve feet high at the
-lowest point where we intended to launch our attack. Above it lay a
-very steep slope of ice terminating on the lower edge of another great
-crevasse. It must have been about 4 p.m. when we tackled the Gelbe Wand
-icefall. Using skis, we mounted with little difficulty as far as the
-foot of the ice wall; there, however, we had to replace the skis by
-climbing irons. A human ladder was out of the question, as the foot of
-the obstacle was a none too stable bridge over a crevasse. Deep holds
-for both hands and feet had to be cut, as the lower part of the ice
-overhung. It was a lengthy proceeding, for the ice was extremely hard
-and brittle. Some delicate balancing, aided by a crampon grasped in one
-hand, eventually landed me above the wall. On the lower lip of the next
-crevasse, behind a fallen block of ice, I found a firm position, whence
-the next man could be assisted up on the rope. Rucksacks and skis were
-then hauled up, and, finally, already after sunset, the whole party
-was gathered above the ice wall which had given so much trouble. On
-replacing the skis on our feet, a series of circumventing manœuvres was
-necessary to pass over bridges or round huge, open chasms.
-
-Once more a steep slope necessitated the use of the crampons and even
-then a few steps had to be cut. The moonlight was ample; the smallest
-detail was as well lit up as if in broad daylight. All of us now
-looked forward to the march up the gentle slopes of the upper parts
-of the glacier, the so-called lower, middle and upper “Boden,” and we
-were confident of success. None of us inquired after the time, and no
-one even glanced at a watch; our surroundings and the novelty of the
-situation were too absorbing. Probably it was well on for 8 p.m. when
-the gaunt yellow crags of the Gelbe Wand became visible on our right
-above the icefall. Gradually the crevasses became less troublesome,
-and soon the lower Boden, a great expanse of gently-rising glacier,
-stretched before us, forming a natural line of ascent towards the foot
-of the Gliemspforte (10,800 ft.). On approaching the pass we took a
-sharp turn to the right, in the direction of Piz Rusein, the highest of
-the three summits of the Tödi, and were soon embarked on the ascent of
-the steep slopes separating the lower from the upper Boden. Here, where
-in summer a regular icefall is sometimes met with, we encountered some
-huge crevasses. The skis, however, carried us to the small bergschrund
-close under the south ridge of the Piz Rusein. Obexer glanced at his
-watch. The moonlight lit the hands at something after 11 p.m. Once more
-wearing climbing irons, and leaving sacks and skis by the bergschrund,
-we commenced the final ascent over the ridge to the summit. Some
-step-cutting was required. A stiff, cold breeze was blowing; the
-thermometer hanging from a rucksack marked 30° F. frost. It was after
-midnight, during the first half-hour of the Ides of March, when the
-great cornice, which forms the culminating point of the Tödi (11,887
-ft.), was reached.
-
-Bitterly cold it was; yet the fairy scene below and the feeling of
-complete content due to the unconventionality of our success held us
-spell-bound for a full half-hour. The valleys were filled with rolling
-silvery clouds, above which the peaks of over 10,000 feet in height
-appeared as islands in a sea of molten metal. Only the valley of the
-Biferten Glacier up which we had ascended was clear and free of mist.
-The sky above was cloudless and, owing to the brilliant rays of the
-moon, almost pale blue in colour, and not blue-black and starry as an
-Alpine firmament should be at night. One fact alone worried us and
-finally impelled us to retreat much sooner than we would otherwise have
-done; the weather began to take a decided turn for the worse. Through
-the Gliemspforte, the lowest gap at the head of the Biferten Glacier,
-the mist began to stream in from the Gliems Valley. Evidently it was
-rising rapidly, and this was the overflow. On looking closely, the sea
-of clouds no longer appeared solid and uniform like a great glacier or
-snow field; everywhere it moved, tossed up waves and rollers, breakers
-and billows, differing in its dead silence alone from a storm-tossed
-ocean.
-
-Before stepping out on to the final ridge we had hardly felt so much
-as a breath of wind. On the ridge, however, a sharp south-wester had
-chilled us to the marrow, though, apart from its direction, we had seen
-little cause for alarm. But now, on the summit, we realised that below
-those rolling billows of mist a tempest of unusual degree was raging,
-and that we must race for the hut. Even then it might be too late, and
-we would have to battle with the unfettered fury of a winter storm.
-
-Back at the skis, Obexer spent a busy and chilly ten minutes hunting
-for his watch which he believed he had deposited thereabouts. No luck,
-it had probably found a quiet resting-place in the blue depths of a
-near by crevasse, and will doubtless some day appear far below at the
-snout of the glacier. By the time we had our skis on, the wind had
-increased to a staggering gale. The lower Boden was submerged under
-fiercely wind-driven clouds of snow, and still more overflows were
-leaking from the Ponteglias Valley over the Piz Urlaun, and from the
-Rusein Valley through the Porta da Spescha. Evidently we would soon be
-well in the thick of the mists where fast running would hardly be to
-our liking, so we fixed the climbing irons under our skis. Owing to
-the powerful braking-action of the long spikes of these irons, we were
-able to cut short the many zig-zags of the way up, and our descending
-tracks were consequently somewhat steeper than the ascending. Long
-before the middle Boden was regained, we were path-finding in thick,
-driving mists where the light of the moon was all but useless. The
-storm rose to a shrieking gale, against the thundering gusts of which
-we often found it difficult to keep our feet. We kept as close as
-possible to the faint tracks of the ascent, which speedily became more
-and more dim as the storm ploughed up slope after slope of loose,
-powdery snow. Once or twice we hesitated, but always some faintly
-visible sign revealed to us our old tracks. On arriving at the middle
-of the Boden, the correct turn to the left was duly carried out, and
-right glad we were to have the gale now pushing us from behind instead
-of throwing us sideways. During the whole ascent and descent between
-the great icefall and the summit of the Tödi, we were climbing on two
-separate ropes, each about one hundred feet long; in summer forty to
-fifty feet between each man would suffice, but in winter, and on skis,
-a distance of one hundred feet is indispensable for safety. Before
-sighting the upper crevasses of the great icefall, Weber, who was on
-my rope, began to show signs of exhaustion. He tripped over the rope
-several times and finally succeeded in tangling it so thoroughly round
-his skis and feet, that we had to call a halt of some ten minutes to
-unravel him. During this process, Weber removed his frozen gloves
-and worked at the stiff cord with bare hands. On the greater part
-of the descent the two ropes marched side by side, Morgenthaler and
-I ahead, as four eyes were better than two in looking out for our
-previous tracks. The storm increased in violence. We crossed the
-first large crevasses above the icefall in a howling hurricane,
-where communication even by dint of shouting from mouth to ear was
-barely possible. In the thick mist and driving snow, one end of the
-rope was seldom visible from the other. The fiercest blasts had to
-be taken stooping low and propped on the ski-sticks, else they might
-have thrown us into the cold depths of the yawning, deep blue chasms
-which surrounded us on all sides. Under these conditions, questions
-began to force themselves upon us. Could we tackle the icefall against
-such odds? Could we fasten the stiff, frozen straps of the climbing
-irons with our painfully numb fingers? Some of us had already begun to
-feel the first pangs of frost-bite; Weber in particular remarked upon
-what formerly had been but a pain, but now was an absolute, unfeeling
-numbness in both hands. The cold was too intense (over 50° F. of
-frost) to risk removing gloves if we hoped to escape being seriously
-frost-bitten. Could we, from above, re-cut the steps which had led us
-up steep slopes over gaping crevasses? Could we carry our skis and
-cling to those steps, all the while buffeted, pushed, blinded and
-almost smothered by the storm? And if, in the great icefall, unable to
-see the tracks, we should fail to strike the right descent over the
-great overhanging ice wall, in many parts over a hundred feet high,
-what then? Could we reascend in the teeth of the storm and, trusting to
-luck to find the way, force a descent down that precipitous ice-swept
-gully, the Schneerunse, probably only to be buried in an avalanche?
-For above the roar of the tempest we frequently heard dull rumbles as
-ice and snow, crashing down from the cliffs high above, swept through
-that gloomy funnel, avalanche upon avalanche. Should we aim to the
-left and descend, by the ordinary summer route, the rocks of the
-Gelbe Wand hand over hand on the rope, throwing the skis down before
-us? Neither hands nor ropes were in fit condition for such tricky
-manipulations. Such were the thoughts which, flashing through our
-minds as we stood together on the brink of the icefall, gave rise to a
-hurried consultation. The result thereof was the unanimous decision to
-camp there and then; for, as long as the storm continued to rage with
-all its present fury, it would be nothing short of madness to attempt
-the descent of the icefall before daybreak. It was about 2 or 3 a.m.,
-and the moon was not only behind the cold, opaque and driving mists,
-but evidently also hidden behind the crags of the Tödi itself. The grey
-shadows of night made the very surface we stood upon uncertain.
-
-Once the decision to bivouac had been definitely arrived at, the next
-question was how best and quickest to protect ourselves from the
-biting wind. Obexer proposed to dig a hole, but a prod with the axe
-revealed ice under a layer of barely two feet of soft, powdery snow
-which would not bind together and was continually whirled about by
-the wind. Another suggestion was to seek the shelter provided by some
-shallow or otherwise suitable crevasse. This was my idea, so I promptly
-proceeded to look around for something after the nature of a harmless
-crevasse. Hardly had I moved a few feet downwards, when with a dull
-thump there I hung, with nothing but empty space under my skis. I clung
-to two ski-sticks up to my shoulders in a bottomless crevasse. As I
-began hauling myself out by the sticks, Weber noticed my disappearance
-and pulled wildly on the rope; an unfortunate move on his part, for
-it jerked me away from the sticks and threw me into the crevasse,
-where I hung, with my full weight on the rope, some four feet below
-the surface. In falling, the sudden jerk of the rope on my ribs winded
-me thoroughly. Communication with the others was quite impossible,
-unless I could contrive to raise my head to the level of the ground
-above. Even the united forces of all three of them could not pull me
-up on that rope, for it had cut deeply into the frozen, overhanging
-snow edge of the crevasse. To regain my wind and, indeed, to be able
-to breathe, I had to force the loop of the rope high up under my
-armpits. Then I threw the ski-sticks, which I had firmly retained in
-my grasp, up over the lower edge of the crevasse, and one after the
-other I unfastened my skis and threw them after the sticks. Propped
-with my feet against one wall and my shoulders against the other, I
-could now relieve the pressure on my ribs, and was able to sling the
-rucksack, on which I carried my ice-axe, off my back. I unfastened the
-axe and pushed it into the loop of the rope. Just as I was swinging the
-rucksack up to join my skis and sticks, the rope suddenly slackened,
-and down I rattled another couple of feet. The poor old rucksack, a
-dear friend, failed to gain the safety of the upper world, and fell,
-thud--thud--thud, far beyond reach down into the invisible depths of my
-grim prison. Gone with it, and most regretted, was one glove which had
-frozen to the strap that I had been holding. With my axe I managed to
-cut steps up one wall of this troublesome crevasse, knock a breach in
-the corniced edge, and work with my head above ground. Then I shouted
-to the others, who stood some distance off, to throw me an end of the
-other rope. Between us yawned the wide-open mouth of another crevasse
-which prevented them from approaching any nearer to me, and it was only
-with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in making my instructions
-understood above the roar of the storm. The wind flung wide three
-casts of the second rope, but the fourth succeeded. Putting my weight
-on this rope, I could pull up the other one, which was buried to a
-depth of some three feet into the snow at the edge. A few minutes more
-of hard struggling and we were once again united. We no longer felt
-inclined to hunt after safe crevasses, especially as the one I had so
-thoroughly inspected was full of draughts; indeed, the storm seemed
-rather increased when caught between those merciless, blue walls. Under
-Obexer’s able direction, the following half-hour was spent busily
-digging a ten-foot long and four-foot deep hole in the snow, into which
-we laid the skis and then ourselves. Three lay stretched out at full
-length, two on the skis, and the top man on those two. Morgenthaler
-preferred to sit with his hands round his feet and his head tucked well
-in between his knees.
-
-[Illustration: _The Tödi from the Bifertenlücke._
-
-_The dotted line indicates the route followed, and B the site of the
-bivouac on the Biferten Glacier._]
-
-[Illustration: _The summit of the Tödi._
-
-  _Facing page 116._
-]
-
-During the whole trip I had not worn any head-gear, and now all my own
-property in that line lay under the glacier. The first few minutes
-of inaction revealed two facts. Firstly, for all the protection from
-the wind our Palace Hotel, as Obexer named the happy home, afforded
-us we might almost as well have camped out on the normal, unprepared
-surface; secondly, that my head was covered with an inch of ice and
-snow, icicles were pendent from eyebrows and eyelashes, and one half
-of my face was dolefully sore as if from commencing frost-bite. So I
-borrowed the nearest rucksack and tucked my head into it. The dark
-interior was full of snow; but by now I was accustomed to snow, and the
-storm at least was outside. Feeling round inside my novel head-gear for
-apples, which the owner reported to be there, provided some excitement.
-One or two, and much sugarless ice-cream, I found and promptly gobbled.
-The gloveless hand found comparative warmth in the pocket of my sodden
-jacket.
-
-Long before morning we were all wet through. Every little while the
-three who lay full length struggled, wriggled and rolled until top
-and bottom positions were exchanged. Everyone continually buffeted,
-slapped and shook his neighbours or himself, no one being allowed to
-remain silent or motionless for more than half an hour. To beguile the
-sleepless hours by songs, jests and yarns was out of the question, as
-the storm howled louder than any or all of us together. Morgenthaler
-and Weber, unluckily, had only woollen gloves, which were long since
-sodden and frozen. Spare socks helped somewhat, but anything woollen
-was soon soaked and rendered useless. Consequently, they chiefly
-complained of frost-bitten hands. Weber, whose vitality did not appear
-to equal that of his companions, required much attention, in spite of
-which he at times complained of the attacks of Jack Frost at his toes
-and other parts of his anatomy. Yet, all things considered, the time
-passed rapidly enough in the bivouac, and not half as unpleasantly as
-one might have expected under such conditions. Once the storm tore the
-mists apart for a second, and a glimpse of the sharp rock summit of the
-Grünhorn to the left served to reassure us as to our exact position.
-Later on, towards dawn, I fell sound asleep, only to awake when someone
-announced it to be 8 a.m. At first I could not account for the darkness
-which surrounded me, then suddenly I remembered my head was in the
-rucksack. Outside this “abode à la ostrich” it was broad daylight, but
-grey white, and there were no signs of any abatement in the fury of the
-storm. I must have slept quite an hour.
-
-We all stood up and stamped about. The storm seemed fiercer than ever,
-and in our soaked condition the cold was doubly penetrating. We decided
-to attempt further descent on foot, leaving our skis to be recovered
-on some later occasion. Ski-sticks were planted to mark the scene of
-our camp, then the ropes re-arranged and joined together. The crevasse
-I had fallen into had no bridge on the left, so we headed horizontally
-to the right. Almost at once the steepness of the ground increased
-rapidly, and it was soon necessary to cut steps. When we had advanced
-but a few rope’s lengths, it became all too evident that we could not
-descend the icefall as long as the storm raged. Every few minutes
-terrific gusts would force us to our knees, all but sweeping us off our
-steps. So when we came to a fallen ice-block and found a four-foot-deep
-hollow in the snow beside it, we decided to camp anew, in the hope that
-the gusts were but a final effort on the part of the tempest and sign
-of its approaching exhaustion.
-
-Later in the morning, deceived by lengthy pauses between the shrieking
-blasts of the gale, we made two more vain attempts to continue the
-descent. Soon after noon it commenced to snow very heavily, and we were
-glad, for surely now the wind would cease. Shortly after 2 p.m. the
-storm was all but a thing of the past. At 3 p.m., satisfied that no
-more fierce gusts were likely to surprise us, we resumed the descent
-which had been interrupted by a total of nearly twelve hours in bivouac.
-
-Many steps had to be cut, as now all traces of our ascent had
-disappeared. It was hard work and cost much time, as all were very
-stiff, and none had escaped more or less severe frost-bite. We found
-the right way off the ice wall, letting ourselves down by the rope;
-but unravelling tangles and loosening knots was painfully hard on our
-fingers. Being on foot, we at first thought of returning past the
-Grünhorn hut and took a few steps in that direction; but when once
-again I made the acquaintance of the interior of a hidden longitudinal
-crevasse, the majority voted for the descent by the lower icefall. The
-walls of the Bifertenstock were alive with avalanches, invisible on
-account of the falling snow and dense mists, but ever crashing over
-the precipices and rumbling down close on our right. On the plateau
-below the icefall, the mist became so dense that we had to steer for
-the hut by compass. After some hours’ vain stumbling round about where
-we thought the hut should lie, we found it shortly before 9 p.m. On
-the table was a note from Forster, informing us that he had descended
-to collect a rescue party. Had we been in anything like undamaged
-condition, we should at once have continued our descent down to the
-Linthal Valley. As it was, we ate a frugal supper; then slept like logs
-till far into the next morning.
-
-On Tuesday, owing to a temporary sleeping fit of our only remaining
-watch, we prepared to leave the hut two hours later than we had
-intended. Obexer and Morgenthaler started off immediately after
-breakfast, in the hope of preventing a rescue party from setting out.
-We did our level best to tidy the hut, and then had to spend over an
-hour softening Weber’s boots on the stove before he could force his
-sorely frozen feet into them. Arriving too late in Linthal to catch
-a train home, we passed the night in the comfortable quarters of the
-Raben Hôtel. During the evening, the welcome message arrived telling
-of Obexer’s success in telegraphically sending a rescue party composed
-of members of the Academic Alpine Club back to Zürich, before they had
-proceeded beyond Thalwil on their outbound journey.
-
-On Wednesday, at noon, we two arrived at Zürich. Weber went off to bed
-at once and was more or less an invalid for the next six weeks. His
-hands and feet were badly frost-bitten, the result of wearing woollen
-gloves and tight, ill-fitting boots. Thanks to careful treatment,
-his hands recovered completely, but most toes of both feet had to be
-amputated.
-
-More serious was Morgenthaler’s fate. Nearly all his fingers had to be
-amputated at the first or second joint, and the remaining ones will
-probably always be stiff. He, also, wore woollen gloves, but large,
-loose-fitting ski-ing boots had kept his feet in perfect condition.
-
-Obexer and I suffered no serious consequences. A frost-bitten thumb
-worried the former for the next month. I lost a few teeth, and with a
-swollen, half-frozen face, hobbled about for a day or two in gouties.
-A fortnight later I was able to accompany Forster on a ski-ing trip
-over the Furka and Nägelisgrätli up the Oberaarhorn. A month later
-Obexer and I climbed Piz Urlaun, revisiting _en route_ the scene of our
-bivouac. We succeeded in rescuing in all six skis (unfortunately not
-three pairs), two of which were recovered out of a great flat-bottomed
-crevasse which had split open just below our camp.
-
-The story of this adventure has a moral; an old moral it is true,
-but one that will well bear repeating. In the first place, we should
-never have attempted a mountain like the Tödi with companions of whose
-equipment and experience we had no knowledge; and, secondly, methylated
-spirits and cooking apparatus, warm clothes, loose-fitting boots,
-sailcloth gloves lined with wool, and last, but not least, a reliable
-pocket barometer which would have warned us of an approaching change in
-the weather, are indispensable items of equipment for serious winter
-ascents.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-THE BIFERTENSTOCK
-
-
-Far to the north of the main chain of the Alps there lies a range of
-mountains crowned by the two outstanding summits of the Tödi and the
-Bifertenstock. The former, rising from the lowlands of the Linth Valley
-to an altitude of 11,887 feet, is the loftier of the two and justly
-gives its name to the group; but the latter far excels it in beauty
-and impressiveness, and gives its name to the greatest glacier of the
-group, which flows down the deep cleft valley between the “King of the
-Little Mountains,” as the Tödi has appropriately been named, and the
-stupendous precipices of the north-west wall of the Bifertenstock. The
-range is within easy reach of Zürich by rail, and affords climbing of
-almost any degree of difficulty, from the simplest of snow trudges to
-the most desperately hard ice or rock ascents. Small wonder, then,
-that climbers flock hither in their numbers during the week-ends, and
-that daily throughout July and August the more accessible club-huts
-are crowded to overflowing. The vast majority of these mountaineers,
-however, have designs upon the Tödi alone. For hours on end they trudge
-up the wearisome upper slopes of the Biferten Glacier to the summit,
-whence, after enjoying one of the most wonderful panoramic views in
-the Alps, they return contented to the valleys. A few, imbued with the
-pioneering spirit, or to whom the spice of danger and the sense of
-achievement after hard-fought battles are of stronger allure than the
-wonders of the summit view, desert the well-trodden glacier track and
-sally forth to grapple with unsolved problems, or problems so seldom
-attacked that they are still clothed in the nimbus of the mysterious
-and superlatively difficult.
-
-A glance at the three main stages in the history of the exploration
-of these “Little Mountains” is astonishingly interesting, not
-only for its own sake, but for the light it throws on the trend
-of modern mountaineering. The story of the conquest of the range
-begins with Pater Placidus à Spescha, a jovial monk and surely one
-of the stoutest-hearted men that ever lived. Climbing alone or with
-the most inefficient of companions, and inadequately equipped, he
-accomplished some astonishing feats, which even to-day would stand well
-to the credit of an expert mountaineer. To give the details of his
-many conquests and valuable contributions towards the topographical
-knowledge of the Bündner Alps, would be beyond the scope of this
-book; but as an example of his outstanding perseverance it may be
-mentioned that this Swiss priest made no less than six attempts to
-reach the summit of Piz Rusein, the highest of the three summits of
-the Tödi, and that his last attempt, also unsuccessful, was made at
-the age of seventy-two. When we consider that his explorations were
-carried out towards the close of the eighteenth and beginning of the
-nineteenth century, at a time when the belief had not yet died out
-that the mountains were the abode of fearsome and savage dragons, and
-when the inhabitants of a secluded valley, such as the one whence this
-valiant pioneer hailed, were still ready to condemn as sacrilegious
-any unwonted activities on the part of a member of their community, we
-are filled with amazed admiration at the intrepidity, resolution and
-prowess of this valiant monk. Contemptuous of discomfort and danger,
-defiant of criticism and defeat, ever aspiring towards the highest his
-little mountain world held forth to him, actuated only by love of the
-mountains and a lively, intelligent curiosity as to what secrets lay
-hidden therein, without hope of gain, Pater Placidus à Spescha well
-deserves recognition as one of the fathers of mountaineering. With the
-cessation of his climbing career in 1824 ends the first stage in the
-history of the exploration of the Tödi range.[4]
-
-The second stage sees the rise of a protagonist of other mettle, the
-chamois hunter, strong, sure-footed, quick to grasp the use of rope and
-axe, and possessing valuable local knowledge, but for the most part
-lacking in initiative and slow to understand the joy in climbing for
-climbing’s sake. He was soon induced by offers of generous payment to
-turn guide and place his skill and physical strength at the disposal of
-the stranger, whose self-imposed task it was to supply the initiative
-in which his employee was deficient and to arouse in him the energy
-and will-power without which nothing would have been accomplished.
-From 1830 onwards, the summits of the range of the Tödi shared the
-fate of mountains throughout the length and breadth of the Alps, and
-fell before the onslaughts of parties composed of amateurs aided by
-professional mountaineers, or, in short, guided parties. But the
-conquest of the last virgin peak still left much work to be done; only
-the fringe of the pioneering had been touched, for, as a rule, the
-first ascent opened up but one way to the summit, and that usually
-the easiest and least interesting. And so it came about that, as the
-numbers of unclimbed mountains decreased, the attention of the more
-ambitious climber turned towards the discovery of new routes. In the
-greater mountain groups of the Alps, success in this new line again
-fell almost exclusively to guided parties, the amateur members of
-which, generally speaking, continued to supply the mental stimulus,
-while the guides, by virtue of their greater climbing ability, superior
-physical strength and improving knowledge in all practical matters
-pertaining to their new craft, were able not only to help them to
-overcome the mountaineering difficulties encountered, but also to
-ensure their immunity from the subjective--that is avoidable, given the
-exercise of due skill and precaution--dangers inherent in the pursuit.
-In the range of the Tödi, however, it was otherwise. After the conquest
-of the individual peaks, little was done by way of opening up new
-routes, and a period of comparative stagnation set in.
-
-Towards the latter end of the last century, the old style amateur
-climber, a true lover of mountain adventure, was rarely seen in this
-corner of the Alps. Not that there was any deficiency of climbers, for
-even then had appeared the sure signs of the impending deluge. The
-little Grünhorn club-hut, the first of many huts built by the Swiss
-Alpine Club for the benefit of mountaineers, and which still stands
-on a rocky spur of the Tödi hard by the Biferten Glacier, no longer
-harboured an occasional party at distant intervals, but was regularly
-so overcrowded that a larger hut, the St. Fridolin’s, was built to
-relieve the congestion. Whence came these throngs of climbers, and who
-were they?
-
-So far the Alps had been almost exclusively the playground of a small,
-select circle composed of men of leisure and means who could afford to
-pay for the by no means inexpensive services of guides and the charges
-for their upkeep while engaged. Within the circle there soon moved
-two classes; the first consisted of the real pioneers, true lovers of
-mountain adventure, and the second of imitators, who climbed because
-climbing was deemed fashionable. In course of time, here and there from
-out the ranks of these early amateur climbers would come one or two,
-vaguely moved perhaps by the supreme joys that unaided achievement
-might bring, to dispense for a space with professional help and climb
-“on their own.” From them sprang the modern guideless climber. Rendered
-inarticulate at first by the appearance of the new species, it was not
-long ere certain members of the climbing fraternity of the day had
-collected themselves enough to pour unstinted abuse upon those who
-dared to indulge in the new form of mountaineering. They condemned
-climbing without guides as suicidal, and therefore wicked and immoral,
-and started out to strangle the new tendency in its cradle. They all
-but succeeded. Yet one of their strongest contentions, to the effect
-that the practice was fraught with undue danger and likely to lead
-to unnecessary loss of life, will not bear the cold light of fact;
-statistics of mountaineering accidents show, if anything, that the
-percentage of casualties amongst the guided exceeds that amongst the
-unguided. In condemning climbing without guides, they were attempting
-to deny for ever to the youth, who could not afford the luxury of a
-guide, the adventure, health and happiness that are to be found in
-the mountains, and did their utmost to pinion his wings. Fortunately,
-the new movement weathered the storm and steadily pursued its course,
-until to-day purely amateur parties completely outnumber the guided.
-Nor are the ranks of the guideless recruited solely from those who
-cannot afford the expense of guides; on the contrary, many of the old
-faith, having once tasted of the more satisfying joys of the new, have
-definitely embraced the latter.
-
-The statement has been made more than once, and may even be seen in
-print, that the first-class amateur is superior, as a mountaineer,
-to the first-class guide. Surely such a statement can emanate only
-from those who have no actual, _personal_ experience of the highest
-capacities of a great guide. The truth is, that the first-class guides
-of the Alps number less than the fingers of one’s two hands, and--let
-us be humble--the first-class, British, all-round amateur mountaineers
-less than one third of that. The ideal, strongest mountaineering party
-would be composed of two or more first-rate guides; but obviously such
-a party has no _raison d’être_. The next strongest party, therefore,
-would be a combination of first-class guides and first-class amateurs.
-Such a party would be able to attack the most difficult mountaineering
-problems with the greatest possible prospects of success and a wide
-margin of safety. Herein is probably the chief reason why a few
-proficient amateurs still endeavour to obtain the services of the few
-guides of the highest rank.
-
-With the firm establishment of guideless mountaineering, the
-exploration of the range of the Tödi entered upon its last phase.
-Diffident of their powers, the new climbers who thronged the Grünhorn,
-St. Fridolin’s, and other club-huts were at first content to feel
-their feet on the old familiar paths; but soon the more adventurous
-began to yield to the lure of the unknown and seek their chosen summit
-by hitherto untrodden ways. Almost without exception, the discovery
-of every subsequent new route up the mountains of the Tödi group has
-fallen to the lot of guideless climbers. To-day, in this part of the
-Alps, a guided party is seldom seen, and then, as a rule, only on the
-well-beaten track which marks the easiest way up one or other of the
-more popular summits. So successfully have these keen young men carried
-out their work that the end of the era of exploration in the range of
-the Tödi is in sight. Possibilities of new routes still exist, though
-it is only too obvious that these will provide climbing of exceptional
-difficulty and tax the capabilities of the guideless climber to the
-uttermost. Of the few fine problems still awaiting solution, perhaps
-the most alluring is the crossing of the Bifertenlücke, one of the
-wildest and grandest of Alpine passes.
-
-Early in September, 1913, persistent snowfalls having seriously
-impaired climbing conditions in the Mont Blanc group, Guy Forster
-and I turned our attention to the range of the Tödi where, thanks
-to its position well to the north of the main chain of the Alps and
-comparatively low elevation, climbing possibilities were still at their
-best and likely to remain so for some time. Our main interest centred
-on the Bifertenstock, whose culminating point reaches an altitude of
-11,241 feet above sea-level. Belted, as it were, from head to foot
-with girdle upon girdle of bronze-coloured rock besprinkled with the
-crystal of snow and ice, the Bifertenstock was unique not only in
-appearance, but in that its west ridge, which rears itself up out of
-the Bifertenlücke towards the summit in a series of huge, precipitous,
-even overhanging buttresses, had never suffered the imprint of human
-foot. Here was one of the few problems that still awaited the explorer
-in the Tödi. More than one party of mountaineers had gone up to the
-Bifertenlücke with the avowed intention of climbing this ridge; but the
-aspect of the first buttress, a tremendous overhanging corner rising
-straight out of the pass, had so successfully repelled them all that no
-one had ever even come to grips with it. On September 5, 1913, in the
-hope of meeting with better fortune, Forster and I set out from Zürich
-to investigate the chances of success. As there is so far no direct
-approach from the north to the Bifertenlücke, whence the climb must
-begin, we selected as our base the Ponteglias hut which stands on the
-southern side of the range.
-
-[Illustration: _The Bifertenstock from the Bündner Tödi._
-
-_The west ridge commences in the Bifertenlücke, just beyond the snow
-slope in the foreground._
-
-  _Facing page 128._
-]
-
-A five-hours’ rail journey _via_ Coire brought us to the village of
-Truns in the Rhine Valley, whence professional help in the shape of
-a guide assisted in carrying up to the hut our ponderous rucksacks
-replete with a full week’s provisions, ropes, spare clothes,
-photographic equipment and all the other things that add to the
-interest and comfort of life in the solitudes. Towards nightfall, after
-a laborious three hours’ walk through the narrow, steep Ponteglias
-Valley, we arrived at the hut where our guide, having dumped his load,
-was paid off and returned to the village. Plans for the following day
-provided only for an ascent of the Bündner Tödi, a little snow-capped
-summit to the west of the Bifertenlücke, whence a commanding view
-of the west ridge of the Bifertenstock could be obtained, and for a
-reconnaissance, at close quarters, of the first great buttress of the
-ridge. There was, therefore, no need for an early start on the morning
-of the 6th. It was daylight when we arose to cook a breakfast which
-proved so much to our liking that we immediately set to and prepared
-another even more sumptuous one. At length, in the bright sunshine of
-a cloudless day we sallied forth. For an hour we strolled leisurely
-up the gently-rising, stone-strewn surface of the Ponteglias Glacier
-which reaches from just below the Bifertenlücke to within a few hundred
-yards of the hut. At the point where the glacier becomes snow-covered
-and crevassed and rises more steeply towards its source, we put on the
-rope and steered an uneventful, zig-zag course round the more fissured
-zones towards a little scree slope lying just below the Bifertenlücke.
-At 9 a.m. we were in the pass, and looking down the breathless
-precipice that falls away to the Biferten Glacier. Here we deposited
-the knapsacks and, after twenty minutes’ trudge up a broad snow ridge,
-gained the summit of the Bündner Tödi.
-
-A careful glance at the west ridge of the Bifertenstock sufficed to
-show that the only really crucial sections were the first and last
-buttresses. But these two steps, the first rising out of the pass
-and the last leading on to the final easy summit ridge, were so
-awe-inspiring and immense that they seemed fashioned only for Titans.
-The first, in particular, looked absolutely impregnable, and, had the
-usual everyday conception of the sporting element been present, there
-is no doubt that the betting would have been largely in favour of the
-Bifertenstock’s west ridge remaining inviolate. But we were both too
-old hands at the game to be dismissed by mere appearances, and returned
-to the Bifertenlücke to prepare for a closer examination of the
-initial difficulty. Back at the spot where the knapsacks were dumped,
-we settled down to a meal and a smoke; and then, as the rock was
-limestone, upon which nails can get but little grip, we replaced our
-boots by rope-soled canvas shoes and roped on at each end of one of the
-two one-hundred-foot climbing ropes. Leaving almost all our kit behind,
-we moved up to the attack, Forster armed with the second rope and my
-camera and I with a _piton_.[5] While still only a short distance
-along the narrow but not very steep ridge from the Bifertenlücke, we
-found ourselves at the foot of the obstacle, a smooth, perpendicular,
-at times even overhanging, corner of rock about one hundred and sixty
-feet in height. Further progress along the crest of the ridge was out
-of the question. To the right, smooth, vertical slabs crowned by an
-overhang and utterly devoid of hand- or foothold, completely excluded
-any possibility of climbing on that side. But in the wall on our left
-lay the semblance of a chance. It was very steep, indeed beetling in
-places; but the rock was not so pitilessly smooth as elsewhere, and it
-looked sufficiently broken to afford some hand- and foothold. The route
-would lead us on to the face of the giddy precipice that falls away to
-the Biferten Glacier over three thousand feet below; but it was the one
-possible line of ascent. Forster placed himself securely at the foot of
-the great step and, well-braced to hold me in the event of a slip, paid
-out my rope inch by inch whilst I made my way leftwards along a narrow,
-sloping, terribly exposed ledge.
-
-After working along the ledge for about thirty feet, I saw above me
-an ill-defined, shallow chimney which, though overhanging towards the
-top, might have afforded some possibility of climbing directly upwards;
-but to attempt it seemed likely to prove such a desperate venture
-that I decided to keep to the route across the precipice in the hope
-of finding a better way up. This further search failed in its object,
-and there remained nothing but to go back and try conclusions with
-the chimney. First I returned to where Forster was standing, then,
-making sure that my shoelaces were tightly tied and the ends well
-tucked away, and that the rope about my chest was not so tight as to
-interfere with freedom of movement, I returned to the ledge and at 10
-a.m. began to grapple with the chimney. Handholds and footholds proved
-to be of the minutest, and the rock was unreliable. Every hold had to
-be carefully tested before use. Inch by inch, painfully slowly and
-exerting every effort of which I was capable, I gained in height. The
-upper, overhanging portion of the chimney required an almost desperate
-struggle before it yielded, but I was at last able to grasp a large
-and firm handhold and drag myself on to a platform at the top. This
-platform was none too commodious; about a foot wide and no more than
-eighteen inches long, it sloped slightly downwards and afforded room
-for only one man. Nevertheless, it gave me an opportunity to stand and
-rest while I nerved myself for the next pitch. A little to the left,
-a fairly clean-cut chimney commenced, which led up towards and ended
-underneath a gigantic, protruding tooth. I thought, however, that it
-might be possible to avoid the overhang by leaving the chimney about
-half-way up and, by traversing over some slabs to the right, gain
-the crest of the ridge of the great buttress at a point where it was
-climbable. So I set out to put my idea to the test, but had not gone
-far up the chimney before the weight of the rope between myself and
-Forster, who was now a good thirty feet below and as much to one side,
-threatened to destroy my balance. Returning to the platform, I took in
-the rope while Forster climbed up towards me. At the very moment when
-he grasped the good handhold and was ready to pull himself on to the
-platform, I vacated it and recommenced work on the chimney. We were
-now in a situation which should rarely, if ever, occur in mountain
-climbing. A slip on the part of either would have involved the fall of
-both. There was no projecting piece of rock within reach over which
-to belay the rope, neither did the platform on which he stood afford
-sufficiently good footing to enable Forster to hold me in the event
-of an ill-judged movement or false step on my part. Climbing the
-chimney which was already taxing my powers to the full, I should have
-been powerless to arrest a slip on my companion’s part. No matter who
-fell first, he would drag the other after him. Fully realising the
-precariousness of the position, we climbed on, determined not to slip,
-and exercising all the care and skill at our command.
-
-On drawing level with the slabs across which I had thought to reach
-the ridge, they looked so forbidding that, situated as we were, the
-risk of embarking upon them without the safeguard of a belay appeared
-too great. So I proceeded farther up the chimney until my way was
-blocked by the overhang at the top. Jamming myself securely in the now
-narrower and deeper cleft, I took the _piton_ from my pocket and with
-the help of a stone hammered it well into a little fissure seaming the
-smooth rock wall on my left. Then I unroped, passed the end of the rope
-through the ring of the _piton_ and tied myself on once more. It was
-a lengthy process, for I had only one hand to spare for the work, but
-well worth the trouble, as it put an end to the unpleasant situation
-in which we had found ourselves ever since Forster had come up to the
-platform. The _piton_ was firm, and it would now be an easy matter for
-either of us to hold the other in the event of a slip. After retreating
-half-way down the chimney, I worked out across the slabs to the right.
-They by no means belied their appearance and afforded most difficult
-climbing. But as the rope passed from me up to the _piton_ and then
-down to Forster, any tendency to slip could be immediately and easily
-checked. Once across the treacherous slabs, a quick scramble up firm
-and easy rocks landed me on a spacious platform on the very crest of
-the ridge. Glancing upwards, I saw that, in so far as the rest of the
-buttress was concerned, all serious difficulties were over.
-
-Forster now prepared to join me. Climbing up to the _piton_, he
-unroped, withdrew his end of the rope from the ring and tied himself
-on again. He then descended the upper half of the chimney, carefully
-negotiated the slabs and climbed swiftly up to me. Together on the
-roomy ledge, we yelled ourselves hoarse in giving vent to our hitherto
-pent-up feelings and in anticipating the triumph of which we now felt
-assured. It was half-past noon; so exigent had been the ascent that we
-had taken two and a half hours to accomplish this small section. We
-had, however, made up our minds to push on the reconnaissance as far as
-the top of the buttress; so, after regaining our breath, we set to to
-tackle what remained of it.
-
-The crest of the ridge once again became too smooth and precipitous,
-but close to it, on the right, a feasible route could be detected. It
-led up steep slabs to the foot of a crack which debouched on the very
-summit of the buttress. The rope was all paid out before I had gained
-the crack, and Forster had to make his way up towards me. But I had
-good standing ground on a fairly wide ledge and could hold his rope
-securely. He was about fifteen feet below me and just about to wrestle
-with the hardest part of the ascent when, in an effort to improve my
-footing the better to cope with a slip, I felt the greater part of the
-ledge, which I had hitherto looked upon as solid with the mountain,
-break away from under my feet, and a great mass of rock slithered
-down the slabs, aiming with deadly accuracy at Forster. Powerless to
-move out of its way, he received a glancing blow which inflicted a
-deep scalp wound and all but stunned him. Swept out of his holds by
-the impact, he was left hanging helpless in mid-air. By all that is
-merciful, however, sufficient had remained of the ledge to leave me
-with just enough footing to withstand the strain on the rope and hold
-Forster up. Blood was spurting freely from the wound in his head, the
-extent of the injury was unknown, and no time was to be lost in getting
-to a place of safety, where it would be possible to staunch the flow.
-Staggered though he was and dripping with blood, Forster still had his
-wits about him. As I held his rope taut, he climbed up to me and took
-his stand on what was left of the ledge, while I made my way up to the
-foot of the crack and, with all possible haste, gained the broad level
-platform at the top of the buttress. There he rejoined me. Inspection
-revealed the reassuring fact that the extent of his injuries was
-limited to the scalp wound, which, however, still bled freely. By means
-of a few sheets of paper kept firmly in position underneath a knitted
-silken cap, the flow was eventually stopped. Except in its purely
-physical result, the little drama had not adversely affected either
-of us. Indeed, if there had previously been any doubt as to the final
-conquest of the west ridge of the Bifertenstock, there could be none
-now. The rough handling had got our blood up, and we felt the ridge was
-doomed. For the present we had fulfilled the object with which we had
-set out, namely the reconnaissance of the first great obstacle, and
-it behoved us to return to the Bifertenlücke where we had deposited
-our kits. We did not, however, hasten our retreat; for Forster was
-weakened through loss of blood, and, that he might recover his strength
-as far as possible, we rested on top of the buttress for over an hour.
-Building a cairn, smoking and chatting the while, the time flew past
-merrily enough, and at 2 p.m. we turned to face the problem of the
-descent.
-
-Exercising the greatest possible care, all went well as far as the
-platform whence it was necessary to traverse out across the slabs
-leading to the chimney near which the _piton_ was fixed. It was obvious
-that the last man down could neither venture across these slabs nor
-descend the final, shallow chimney below without the steadying help
-of a rope from above. Held firmly on the rope by me, Forster moved
-out across the slabs and climbed up to the _piton_, where he unroped,
-threaded his rope through the ring of the _piton_, re-roped, and then
-descended right down on to the lowest ledge and over to the good
-standing ground on the ridge at the foot of the buttress. There he
-again unroped and tied the spare rope on to the end of the one passing
-through the _piton_ to me. It was now my turn to go down. I crossed the
-slabs with due care, but, thanks to the assistance of the improvised
-belay, the rest of the descent was a simple matter, and in a few
-minutes I had rejoined my companion. I untied myself, and, by hauling
-on the spare, the climbing rope was pulled down through the ring of the
-_piton_ and recovered. A little later, in the Bifertenlücke, my camera
-had made a faithful record of Forster’s blood-bespattered condition.
-Our sensational entry into the Ponteglias hut was witnessed only by the
-too friendly sheep that haunt the surrounding grassy slopes.
-
-On the following day the weather broke and snow fell. But we cared
-little, and time passed pleasantly in the preparation and consumption
-of oft-repeated meals. On September 8, the weather was once more fine,
-but the desire to be up and doing had to be curbed until the sun should
-melt the fresh snow that lay on the Bifertenstock, and yet another
-day was spent in cooking and eating, and in frustrating the effects
-of over-indulgence with spasmodic bouts of step-cutting practice on
-the snout of the Ponteglias Glacier. Towards evening we packed the
-rucksacks and made everything ready for an early start on the morrow.
-
-[Illustration: “... _a faithful record of Forster’s blood-bespattered
-condition._”
-
-  _Facing page 136._
-]
-
-At 5 a.m. on September 9, we left the comfort of the hut and in little
-more than two hours had gained the Bifertenlücke. Then, exchanging the
-heavy mountain boots for rope-soled shoes, we commenced the attack
-upon the west ridge in real earnest. Leaving my knapsack and ice-axe
-with Forster at the foot of the great buttress, I worked out along the
-ledge, climbed up the shallow chimney and, gaining the little platform,
-paused to rest after my exertions. Then, being now familiar with the
-position of every handhold in the next chimney, I climbed quickly up
-to the _piton_, threaded the rope through the ring and crossed over
-the slabs lower down to the broad ledge on the right. As soon as I
-had firmly established myself, Forster unroped. Drawing the rope free
-from the _piton_, I flung it down to him so that he might tie on to
-it our knapsacks and axes; the latter were necessary, for it was our
-intention to traverse the mountain, descending by the south ridge
-and the Frisallücke. The goods were soon pulled up to my level and
-removed, and once more the coils of rope swished through the air to
-Forster, who again tied himself on and was soon up beside me. From here
-onwards, past the scene of the accident to the foot of the last great
-buttress, all was plain sailing. Five intermediate steps or buttresses
-had to be surmounted. One yielded to a frontal attack; the others were
-turned without great difficulty either on their right or left. Twice
-we had to take to steep snow, a change of footgear being necessary on
-both occasions. At length we stood on the ridge at the foot of the
-last buttress, the most formidable barrier remaining between us and
-success. The ridge itself and the wall to the left both overhung to
-such an extent that they defied attack. To the right, however, the
-rocks were less steep and more broken up, and for about one hundred
-feet we made our way across them under the great wall of the step. On
-attempting to strike upwards, however, we found that we had misjudged
-the gradient, and after a stern struggle I recoiled defeated. We then
-continued our traverse still further to the right across a series of
-smooth, precipitous slabs where, for the second time on this ridge, in
-spite of the great length of rope at our disposal, the utter absence of
-belays or suitable standing grounds forced us into a situation in which
-the protection afforded by the rope was nil, and a slip on the part of
-one of us would have involved the destruction of both. Each knowing
-that where one could climb the other could follow, and both confident
-that neither would slip, we did not dream of retreat. But had we been
-at the mercy of a companion who was clumsy and frequently in need of
-assistance, even at this advanced stage where we were so near our goal,
-we would have broken off the climb. Why, one may ask, not dispense with
-the rope altogether in such a situation where it is little more than
-a dangerous encumbrance? My reply is a simple statement of fact, from
-which each may draw his own inferences. I would prefer not to climb
-with the man who advocates such a policy.
-
-Safely over the slabs, we came to the foot of a very steep, shallow
-gully leading to a great snow cornice on the ridge above the buttress.
-With much difficulty we climbed the first hundred feet and reached a
-broad, almost level shelf barely fifty feet below the cornice. A huge
-lump of the latter had fallen away, leaving a gap that gave easy access
-to the ridge. Between us and the gap lay a stretch of easy, broken
-rocks, so, once more changing footgear and donning mountain boots, we
-scrambled up and at last stepped out through the cornice back on to the
-ridge.
-
-A north breeze, cool and bracing, met us. The snow under foot sparkled
-in the brilliant noonday light. The neighbouring peaks stood up bold
-and sharp in the clear atmosphere. The sun flooded all with warmth.
-It was good to be alive. A last, half-whimsical glance at the little
-St. Fridolin’s hut, a tiny brown speck at the foot of the great
-four-thousand-foot wall, and we turned our steps along the snow-crested
-ridge towards the summit. Chipping a step here and there where the
-cornice forced us out on to the steep north flank, we mounted speedily.
-One more clamber over a pitch of easy, broken rocks and the fight was
-over. At 2 p.m. we stood atop of the Bifertenstock.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[4] Those interested in the exploits of Placidus à Spescha would do
-well to consult the articles contributed to the Alpine Journal by Dr.
-H. Dübi and Mr. D. W. Freshfield. Mr. Freshfield, the greatest living
-British mountaineering explorer, was one of the pioneers of climbing in
-the range of the Tödi.
-
-[5] A stout iron pin or nail provided with a ring at one end.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-MONTE ROSA
-
-
-Upon a bright summer’s morning in 1911, we[6] lay on the warm rocks of
-the Monte Moro, gazing spell-bound at the avalanche-swept slopes of the
-greatest precipice in the Alps--the east face of Monte Rosa. Max saw
-chances of a grand climb and thought some of the bergschrunds looked
-bad; then, turning his attention to more personal matters, proceeded
-to indulge in a rigid foot inspection. Obexer could not contain his
-enthusiasm and greeted each avalanche, as it swept down the Marinelli
-Couloir, with merry song and derisive yells. Case “guessed you’d
-have to hustle some in the Rockies to go one better” and, curling up
-comfortably on a warm slab, went to sleep.
-
-Perhaps from nowhere else are the impressive beauties and the almost
-overwhelming grandeur of the Monte Rosa of Macugnaga to be seen to
-better advantage than from the Monte Moro. From the Jägerhorn up the
-Nordend, over the Grenz Gipfel, beyond the Zumstein Spitze and the
-Punta Margherita down to the Colle della Loccie, the eye travelled on
-that still, clear morning along a bewildering succession of clear-cut
-snow-crests, aglow and glistening in the morning light, interrupted
-here and there by gaunt rock cliffs all dusted with freshly-fallen
-snow. Rolling mists obscured the Macugnaga Glacier and gently bathed
-the foot of the precipitous slopes and avalanche-seared cliffs that
-towered up, tier upon tier, to the support of the summit ridges--a
-support seemingly robbed of stability by the clouds that concealed
-its foundations; an immense wall perched up above illimitable space
-and threatened with imminent dissolution. The trembling, bluish haze
-of distance, deepening in hue as the sun’s rays gained in strength,
-softened the sharp outlines of the ridges, the harsh contrast between
-rock and snow; and, with the thinning of the mists above the Macugnaga
-Glacier, cliff and cloud gradually merged into each other. A grand and
-glorious sight had now been transformed into a vision, almost ethereal
-in its sublime beauty, and into my half-waking dreams there came a
-fleeting glimpse of the climber’s paradise.
-
-The moments passed, bringing in their train a multitude of thoughts and
-happenings of which the mind, with such happy facility, selects and
-stores up none but the pleasant, to serve later as a panacea for all
-the evils that beset those of the true faith during their servitude
-in the plains. Max had donned his boots, and together we discussed
-the problem confronting us. Case stirred uneasily on his rocky couch,
-awoke, and joined in the solemn conclave. Then came Obexer, who, with
-the optimism of all his nineteen years, pointed out a route leading up
-to the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel, to follow which would have led to
-certain and sudden death. Detail was lost in the hazy distance, and we
-could arrive at no solution of how to avoid the badly-broken belt of
-séracs which crowns the rocks of the Imseng Rücken. Avalanches fell
-frequently; many, finding insufficient room in the Marinelli Couloir to
-contain them in their mad rush towards the glacier far below, plunged
-down over the broken rocks of the Imseng Rücken in rolling clouds of
-driven snow.
-
-We lunched in Macugnaga. The porter, Alessandro Corsi, the sole
-survivor of the ill-fated Damiano Marinelli’s party which was
-overwhelmed by an avalanche on the Imseng Rücken in 1881, joined us at
-our table with that delightfully unassuming camaraderie which is still
-an endearing feature of the natives of the unspoilt valleys of Alpine
-Italy. The news of our project spread rapidly, and all too soon we were
-forced to beat a hasty retreat up the path to the Belvedère Hôtel, in
-order to escape the lively torrent of questions and comments which were
-rained down upon us from all quarters. But it was only another case
-of out of the frying-pan into the fire. Long before we found shelter
-in the Belvedère, a thunderstorm had drenched us to the skin. Towards
-sunset, the clouds lifted from the summit ridges, to reveal a generous
-sprinkling of new snow on the upper slopes of Monte Rosa.
-
-After sunrise on the following morning (August 7, 1911), we left our
-comfortable quarters and strolled up the Macugnaga Glacier past the
-Pedriolo Alp. Here a halt was called to enable Max and myself to
-submit to a critical examination the séracs above the Imseng Rücken.
-If only possible, we wished to avoid having to find a way through the
-lower belt of these grotesquely piled-up pinnacles whose stability
-was so obviously doubtful. Apart from this, I was well aware of the
-difficulties with which this intricate labyrinth abounded, and of the
-loss of time that the overcoming of these difficulties would entail--a
-most serious matter on such an expedition as this. From the Imseng
-Rücken to the Silber Sattel, the Marinelli Couloir glistened with ice,
-and the idea of cutting up its full length was soon renounced. Quite
-apart from the volume of step-cutting in promise, the couloir serves as
-a huge drainage funnel for the avalanches falling down the walls of the
-vast amphitheatre extending from the Nordend to the Punta Margherita,
-and to remain in it for hours on end would be to incur too grave
-risks. Finally, we decided to try to evade the worst of the séracs by
-cutting up the Marinelli Couloir to a point about six hundred and fifty
-feet above the head of the Imseng Rücken; then, turning to the left
-towards the Punta Margherita, we would grapple with the broken medley
-of séracs, ice cliffs and bergschrunds through which a way must be
-forced ere the final bergschrund below the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel
-were gained. Actually the expedition was carried out in conformity with
-these plans, down to almost the last detail; but in the light of later
-experience I believe that following the Marinelli Couloir throughout
-would have brought us to our goal more quickly and in far greater
-safety.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _R. H. K. Peto._
-
-_The east face of Monte Rosa._
-
-_The summits on the skyline ridge are, from left to right, the Punta
-Margherita, Zumstein Spitze, Grenz Gipfel and the Nordend. The
-Marinelli Couloir descends from the depression between the Grenz Gipfel
-and the Nordend._
-
-  _Facing page 142._
-]
-
-While the others wandered off at intervals towards the rocks of the
-Jäger Rücken upon which the Marinelli hut is built, I remained behind
-for some moments to make a few rough sketches and notes which might
-serve later to guide our party through some of the more intricate
-portions of the climb. Upon rejoining my companions, I found that they
-had missed the ill-defined track which leads to the hut; but as time
-was our own, and no one evinced a desire to waste energy looking for
-anything so elusive as a mountain track, we muddled along contentedly,
-always keeping to the northern slopes of the Jäger Rücken. The
-steepening rocks were interspersed with abominable screes and slippery
-grass, and in due course the inevitable happened, and further progress
-appeared to be barred. Closer inspection, however, revealed a long and
-narrow chimney of forbidding aspect and furnished with a tremulous
-chock-stone. It led upwards in the desired direction towards the ridge
-of the Jäger Rücken to our left. A first attempt to scale the chimney
-failed, and I beat a retreat to the foot of the stubborn obstacle to
-rid myself of the encumbrance of the knapsack and tie myself on to the
-rope which Max had meanwhile uncoiled. The second attack met with
-more success, and, after a wobbly fight with the unsteady chock-stone
-and having run out to the full length of a hundred-foot rope, I found
-good standing ground. Those below resolutely refused to be cajoled into
-climbing up to me with their lawful burdens upon their own shoulders,
-and, in spite of my protests, I was reduced to hauling the knapsacks up
-on the rope. The others speedily followed, and in a few strides we were
-on the ridge. A moment or two later the track revealed itself, though
-somewhat late in the day. The easy going methods of the guideless
-climber, who seldom bothers to find the correct way to a hut, and the
-last little tussle with the chimney had cost much time; we had been
-over five hours on the way, when four hours’ easy going should have
-seen us settled in the hut. Now, however, everything was plain sailing,
-and the level of the hut was rapidly approached. Just as we were about
-to leave the ridge to traverse towards the hut, a large stone--gentle
-reminder, perhaps, of what the morrow held in store--hurtled down
-through space with a fiendish “whirr-whirr” and crashed into the rocks
-a few yards below. This sort of thing was somewhat disconcerting, for
-do not the most learned authorities assure the climber that falling
-stones are not met with on ridges? Perhaps this was merely the
-proverbial exception to the rule; but, not wishing to become embroiled
-in a contest with another such exception, we left the ridge and, under
-the comparative shelter of some steep rocks, traversed rapidly towards
-the hut. At midday we had successfully solved the problem of unlocking
-the door with an ice-axe, that most efficient of master-keys.
-
-The Marinelli hut is built against an overhanging rock wall at an
-altitude of over 10,000 feet on the Jäger Rücken, a broad and somewhat
-ill-defined rocky ridge which, forming the lower boundary of the bottom
-half of the Marinelli Couloir, separates the latter from the Nordend
-Glacier. The floor space of the hut measures some thirteen by nineteen
-feet, of which half is occupied by two bare, wooden shelves which
-do duty as sleeping quarters; the other half accommodates a table,
-a couple of rough benches and a stove which, for lack of firewood,
-appeared to us to be the only superfluous luxury in an interior of
-otherwise Spartan simplicity. Eight musty and evil-smelling blankets
-which we hung up outside to air and dry, a visitors’ book and a few
-dirty pots and pans completed the inventory. The visitors’ book soon
-fell into the eager hands of Obexer, and whilst Case and Max busied
-themselves with preparations for lunch and struggled with a refractory
-spirit stove, he proceeded to pump me dry of all the information at my
-disposal which would help him to compile the array of facts entering
-into the calculation of what he gruesomely termed “the mortality
-percentage of the east face.”
-
-Having done justice to Max’s combined lunch and tea, I wandered over to
-the Marinelli Couloir. Case, whose usually somewhat dormant interest in
-external matters had been roused to a greater pitch than usual by the
-frequent thunder of collapsing séracs and the continuous rumbling hiss
-of snow sliding down the couloir, elected to accompany me. Traversing
-almost horizontally along a series of broken ledges, we gained the edge
-of the couloir in less than ten minutes. About a hundred and fifty feet
-above, a low but overhanging buttress jutting well out into the couloir
-obscured part of the view. A few minutes’ stiff scrambling, however,
-placed us above the obstruction, and we were able to indulge in an
-almost complete survey of the whole of the route by which we hoped to
-gain the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel.
-
-The warmth of the rays of an Italian sun was loosening the precarious
-grip of the heavy masses of fresh snow that had fallen during the
-thunderstorms of the two preceding evenings. A steady, unbroken stream
-of wet snow hissed rapidly down the deep-cut channels with which the
-bed of the Marinelli Couloir is scored. At frequent intervals, larger
-masses, often mixed with ice and stones, would break loose, swell over
-and out of the channels and, as if impatient of the bonds thrust upon
-them by the narrow confines of the couloir, would overflow the Imseng
-Rücken and with the reverberating noise of thunder dash down to the
-glacier below. Far aloft, gleaming proudly in the brilliant light, a
-great ice pinnacle nodded sedately forward, turned slightly round as
-if to recover balance, then, dragged down by the irresistible pull of
-gravity, crashed and broke into a thousand fragments which bounded
-down the great gully in grotesque leaps and jumps. A small cave, close
-at hand and opening out towards the valley, afforded refuge from the
-onslaughts of the blocks of ice and masses of snow that careered past
-within a few feet of us. The whole wall was literally alive with
-movement; during our sojourn of fully two hours, five consecutive
-minutes never passed without the rattle of falling stones or the mad,
-headlong rush of an avalanche.
-
-While I was trying to reconcile the rough sketches made from the
-Macugnaga Glacier in the early morning with the foreshortened
-appearance the mountain now presented, Max hove in sight, and together
-we talked over plans. Finally, it was decided to begin the attack upon
-the couloir from the rocks upon which we stood, and then, by cutting
-across in a slightly ascending direction, to gain the rocks of the
-Imseng Rücken at their nearest point, distant by nearly two hundred
-yards. Once on the rocks of the Imseng Rücken, the original plan of
-ascent, formulated _en route_ to the hut, was to be adhered to as far
-as possible. Two other points were impressed upon us; first, the need
-for all possible speed and the avoidance of any unnecessary delay after
-having once embarked upon the ascent; and, second, the necessity of
-postponing the carrying out of the expedition for one, possibly two,
-days in order to give the sun an opportunity of clearing away as much
-as possible of the loose, fresh snow which still remained upon the
-slopes above.
-
-Meanwhile, the sun had disappeared behind the Punta Margherita. The
-chill air of deepening shadows conjured up, by contrast, a glowing
-picture of our quarters for the night. Near the hut, hidden under a
-stone, a welcome find revealed itself--a few handfuls of wood. A merry
-fire was soon crackling and blazing away in the crazy little stove. The
-bright flames, the dancing shadows, and the curling wisps of smoke,
-supplied the heretofore wanting elements of cheerful warmth that made
-the hut a real home.
-
-It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch when the first
-sleepy head, with an inquiring eye as to the weather prospects, was
-poked out at the door. But August 8 was no exception to the golden rule
-of 1911; the sky was cloudless. The day was usefully spent in marking
-the best route to the Marinelli Couloir by numerous cairns, and by
-prodigious efforts at demolishing our generous stock of provisions.
-Towards evening, knapsacks were packed, ropes were laid ready, and the
-fit of climbing irons was tested. Not until then did I discover that
-Obexer’s irons were only six-toothed, and that the front teeth lay
-quite two inches behind the toes of his boots. That meant making deeper
-steps, and consequent loss of time.
-
-On August 9, at 1 a.m., under the light of a brilliant moon, we left
-the hut. We were roped in two parties. Case and myself led off; Max
-and Obexer brought up the rear. All wore climbing irons. We followed
-the now familiar route on to the rock promontory jutting into the
-couloir. A glance above. All was quiet in the cold night air. A hasty
-step in hard-frozen snow, and the attack was launched. Here the slope
-of the couloir is about 46°, but the climbing irons gave firm grip
-and, ascending slightly, we crossed at the double. Now and again ice
-showed through in the beds of narrow, deep-cut troughs, and the axe
-was brought into play. Two of these troughs gave trouble. Both were
-over twelve feet deep and sixteen feet wide, with under-cut sides.
-The difficulty in crossing lay, not in getting on to the floor of
-the trough--a jump did that--but in cutting out over the ice of the
-overhang on the far side. Beyond these obstacles, steep snow slopes
-led to the rocks of the Imseng Rücken where Max and Obexer soon
-joined us, little over half an hour after leaving the hut. The rocks,
-though fairly steep, are, relatively speaking, not difficult; and,
-climbing occasionally to the left, but more often to the right of the
-ill-defined ridge, we all indulged in a passion for speed, racing
-upwards as fast as heart and lungs would permit. The ridge becomes
-narrower higher up, and the rocks gradually merge into a sharp
-snow-crest which at first is almost level, but rapidly steepens and
-broadens out to lose itself in the slopes which form the southern bank
-of the Marinelli Couloir.
-
-According to our pre-arranged plan, a brief halt was called and both
-ropes joined together. Meanwhile, the moon had disappeared behind
-the Zumstein Spitze, and two lanterns were lighted. We were now at a
-height of about 11,500 feet. My watch showed 2.35 a.m.; thus our rate
-of progress so far was satisfactory. From this point, however, the
-problem assumed a far more serious aspect. The general angle of
-the ground was very abrupt, and ice was everywhere laid bare by the
-scouring action of untold avalanches. A brief but heavy bout of cutting
-landed us on a small island of rocks, a last outcrop of the Imseng
-Rücken. Though inclined to be slabby, they were surprisingly easy and
-in a few minutes brought us to a steep, bare ice slope. To the left, a
-short traverse offered an easy way into the zone of séracs, the route
-of our predecessors; but, determined to adhere to original plans, we
-faced the slopes leading upwards. The axe rang to the tinkle of falling
-ice fragments. Case kept close behind and, with a lantern tied on to
-the end of his axe, lit up the ice in front of me. Max hewed staunchly
-away at deepening the steps, occasionally cutting additional ones to
-suit Obexer’s short legs; for, to save all possible time, the steps
-were cut as far apart as was consistent with safety. From far above in
-the wild crags of the Nordend came the rattle of falling stones. Down
-thundered the avalanche, swelling to a veritable torrent, and poured
-through the Marinelli Couloir. Some few boulders, as if possessed
-of a more adventurous spirit than the rest, leapt wildly across the
-couloir in great ungainly bounds, throwing up thick clouds of snow as
-they hurried over the upper part of the Imseng Rücken, which we had
-just ascended. No word was spoken; the labour of step-cutting went on
-steadily. The slope increased in steepness, until it was only just
-possible to cut without resorting to handholds. At last, after gaining
-some three hundred feet by the hardest of work, the slope suddenly
-eased off, and we found ourselves on an almost level platform at the
-foot of a huge sérac. Five minutes’ rest for sorely-tried lungs, and
-then onwards once more!
-
-[Illustration: _The Frisallücke._
-
-_The snow slope is intersected by a bergschrund, which in turn is
-cut by a trough formed by stones falling from the cliffs of the
-Bifertenstock on the left._
-
-  _Facing page 148._
-]
-
-The first signs of dawn appeared and gradually dispelled the gloom
-with which the moon had plunged everything when it had disappeared
-behind the ridges high above; but it was still too dark to dispense
-with the lanterns. Traversing almost horizontally in the direction
-of the Punta Margherita, a series of easy snow ledges, interrupted
-here and there by the scoured-out, icy, avalanche-swept channels that
-exacted their due toll of step-cutting, led us well into the midst of
-the crevasses, bergschrunds and séracs with which this part of the
-east wall is so profusely armoured. Avoiding several likely looking
-opportunities of once more progressing upwards--for our previous
-reconnaissance had convinced us that the only way through the labyrinth
-lay close under the steep slopes of the Punta Margherita--we forced a
-way across, and sometimes even through, crevasse after crevasse, and
-above or below sérac after sérac. At last, after having thus traversed
-across almost the whole of the east face, a steep and rickety snow
-bridge over a bergschrund of quite unusual dimensions at last gave
-access to less steep ground where the climbing irons could find safe
-purchase without the cutting of steps.
-
-Meanwhile, it had become light; yet, in spite of all possible efforts
-at speed, we had gained a level of only about 12,000 feet. The outlook
-was not too good, for there was still much fresh snow on the slopes
-above, and, with the sun’s advent, we should be at the mercy of
-avalanches until the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel were gained.
-
-Case and Max packed away their lanterns, and, redoubling our efforts,
-we set out at a furious pace across the ledge leading to the next
-icefall, the weakest point in which was a slope of, as near as we could
-judge, 70° in steepness and about one hundred and fifty feet high. At
-the first glance it appeared perpendicular, but it was just possible to
-stand in shallow steps and cut without having more than occasional
-recourse to handholds. Half-way up this exceptionally steep slope, an
-irregularity in the ice provided me with a safe footing, so that my
-companions were able to follow me up in the very skimpy steps with
-which I had been satisfied in the first instance. The remainder of the
-ascent of the ice wall was no less severe. Towards the top it became
-even steeper. Footholds and carefully cut handholds were necessary to
-enable us to reach the gentler slopes of the terrace above. The last
-icefall was clearly impassable except on its extreme right, close to
-where it adjoins the Marinelli Couloir. We had already realised this
-from our inspection from the Macugnaga Glacier two days ago.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Photo A. I. I. Finch._
-
-_The Grenz Gipfel._]
-
-[Illustration: _The Val Sesia from Monte Rosa._
-
-  _Facing page 150._
-]
-
-Striking off in the direction of the Marinelli Couloir, we covered
-ground rapidly, though without gaining much height. On arriving at the
-very edge of the couloir, we discovered a steep slope of good snow, by
-means of which the formidable icefall was easily turned. Cutting up
-this slope, we arrived on the last terrace below the final bergschrund.
-The only likely bridge over this schrund lay, as we knew, almost under
-the Grenz Sattel. No time was lost in making for this point, and
-we raced up over the comparatively gentle slopes with a speed that
-must have astonished several parties who were warily descending the
-Zumstein Spitze towards the Grenz Sattel. These parties were none too
-careful in their climbing, and, before reaching the bergschrund, we
-were reduced to dodging stones which whizzed past us at an alarming
-rate. A most efficient snow bridge helped us across the schrund, and we
-proceeded to cut steps diagonally upwards towards the lowest rocks of
-the Grenz Gipfel, which lay about three hundred feet above. The snow
-soon gave out, and we were reduced once more to cutting in bare ice. We
-were still in considerable danger from falling stones which the sun
-was loosening in increasing numbers from the Grenz Gipfel. Numerous
-parties, spread out over the ridge leading from the Grenz Sattel to the
-Grenz Gipfel, also added their little contributions in this respect,
-in their eagerness to watch our advance. At 6.50 a.m. we grasped the
-warm rocks of the east ridge of the Grenz Gipfel, and, climbing on to
-a ledge, we felt, for the first time since leaving the Marinelli hut,
-that we were at last in safety. The ascent of the final ice slope had
-cost forty minutes. Our pace and the amount of step-cutting had been
-so stiff, that I was never so glad to take a rest. However, a few
-minutes worked wonders, and, after taking off our climbing irons and
-re-arranging ourselves into two parties, Max and Obexer being in one,
-and Case and myself taking the lead, we got busy with the last stage in
-the expedition--the steep rocks in front of us. We kept to the ridge
-itself, only occasionally traversing a few yards to the left. The rock
-is good, but the climbing is difficult and strenuous. The whole ridge
-seems to consist of overhanging steps, each about ten feet high and
-calling for plenty of arm work. By this time, however, we were anxious
-to see if we could not establish a record ascent from the point of
-view of time. Max and Obexer affected to take things more easily, and,
-shortly before we had attained the level of the Grenz Sattel, we parted.
-
-Case shared my eagerness for speed, with the result that in less
-than two hours’ climbing we stood on the summit of the Grenz Gipfel
-(15,158 ft.). Ten minutes later, at 9.15 a.m., we were prospecting for
-a suitable place for a sun bath on the summit of the Dufour Spitze
-(15,217 ft.). We had taken just over eight hours from hut to summit. At
-a quarter to ten Max and Obexer arrived, and the day was won.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[6] J. C. Case, F. Obexer, M. B. I. Finch and G. I. Finch.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-THE TWINS
-
-
-When mountains reach an altitude of over 13,000 feet, one does not
-usually call them little. But the Twins, Castor and Pollux, are
-so overshadowed by their massive neighbours, the Lyskamm and the
-Breithorn, that one quite naturally refers to them in terms of the
-diminutive. Dwarfed though they be by their mighty surroundings, they
-are, nevertheless, every inch great mountains.
-
-
-CASTOR
-
-On August 15, 1909, H. A. Mantel, a fellow member of the Academic
-Alpine Club of Zürich, and I were sunning ourselves on the rocks in
-front of the Bétemps hut. Mantel, who had heard much of the joys of
-ice-climbing during the last two weeks we had climbed together, was
-filled with a keen desire to see for himself if it were really as
-superior to rock work as I had made it out to be.
-
-The north face of the Lyskamm was ruled out as being too big an effort
-for the initiation of even such a willing proselyte as my companion.
-Within easy reach of the Bétemps hut, however, is Castor, the higher of
-the two twins and one of the most striking forms of Alpine beauty. Seen
-from the north, it is a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and
-ice, almost wholly unflecked by rock. The north face of this mountain
-had never, as far as I knew, been ascended. Beyond the fact that Miss
-K. Richardson with Émile Rey and Bich had descended its upper third or
-half in 1890, I had not been able to trace the records of any other
-explorers having visited Castor on this side. Long before the chill of
-sunset drove us inside the hut, we had decided upon this climb for the
-morrow.
-
-Soon after midnight, snow ploughing parties for Monte Rosa began their
-usual noisy preparations. We wallowed on in the luxury of superfluous
-blankets and straw until 2 a.m., by which time the last party had left
-the hut. At four o’clock, our fragile, early morning tempers were being
-severely tried by the moraine leading down to the Grenz Glacier. Once
-on the glacier, however, the stability of things under foot reasserted
-itself, and a brisk, pleasant walk brought us to the foot of the
-formidable icefall which separates the Grenz and Zwillings Glaciers.
-We attacked the icefall in about the centre of its front and working
-steadily upwards and to the right, in a westerly direction, fought step
-by step for a way through the intricate mass of crevasses and séracs
-which sought to impede our progress. Frequently we were unable to
-find snow bridges and had to cross crevasses by descending into them
-and then cutting up the other side. At the top of the icefall we were
-pulled up short by a final crevasse which appeared to stretch without
-a break from one side of the glacier to the other. A little searching,
-however, revealed the presence of an extremely unpleasant-looking
-bridge which seemed far too heavy for the slender supports by which
-it was attached to the two sides of the crevasse. The sun, however,
-had just risen, and everything was still well-frozen; so with due
-precautions the rickety structure was called upon to lend us all the
-assistance in its power. Beyond shedding a few icicles, which went
-clinking down into the soul-shattering depths below, the bridge stood
-up nobly. We now struck out in the direction of the Zwillingsjoch, as
-the gap between Castor and Pollux is called. Gentle, undulating snow
-slopes, broken here and there by enormous, but mostly well-bridged,
-crevasses, provided easy going. Some of the crevasses in this part of
-the glacier were so wide that we had to rope together at a distance
-of rather over eighty feet in order to avoid the possibility of both
-standing on the same bridge at the same time. A second icefall, tame in
-comparison with the first, was passed through without difficulty, and
-at 7.45 a.m. we stood at the foot of the north face of our mountain, at
-a point due north of the summit.
-
-[Illustration: _A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier._]
-
-[Illustration: _Castor._
-
-“... a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and ice” ....
-
-  _Facing page 154._
-]
-
-A halt was called for breakfast, and, after a welcome cigarette, we
-put on our climbing irons. The bergschrund, which gaped widely open
-to right and left of where we stood, was completely filled with snow
-and ice--débris from the avalanches which pour off the north face
-through a funnel whose opening meets the bergschrund just here. To
-cross the schrund we had to cut steps, as the snow was too closely
-packed and hard-frozen to admit of kicking. After cutting some sixty
-steps, however, we were able to dispense with the use of the axe and
-kicked our way rapidly upwards over steep slopes of frozen snow in
-the direction of the north-east ridge of the mountain. This earlier
-part of the ascent, for a distance of about a thousand feet from the
-bergschrund, was accomplished in a remarkably short space of time, as
-we were exposed to avalanches from a tier of ice cliffs that enfiladed
-the funnel up which we were advancing. During the latter portion of the
-ascent of these slopes, we gradually worked over to the east in order
-to find a way round the extreme eastern edge of the ice cliffs. A flaw
-in the cliffs, however, absolved us of the necessity of traversing
-very far to the left, and we were soon able to strike straight up
-towards the diminutive bergschrund which cuts into the north-east
-ridge of Castor at a height of about 12,800 feet. Before reaching
-this bergschrund, the general slope eased off considerably, and the
-snow became powdery and deep. Once upon the gentler snow slopes, the
-direction again changed, and we struck out towards Pollux, ploughing
-a way slowly through the tiresome snow. In this fashion we arrived at
-the bergschrund at a point directly below the north summit of Castor,
-and paused for a few minutes’ rest before assaulting the final steep
-slopes. So far, Mantel had not been unduly impressed with the supposed
-difficulties of ice-climbing, but the very last slope was steep,
-and I felt sure that we would meet with ice which would impede our
-progress sufficiently to make him alter his opinion. But, once again,
-the bergschrund was easily overcome, and, to my disappointment, we
-were able to kick our way up beyond it without cutting a single step.
-The snow was perfect. Not until we were within a rope’s length of the
-north summit did we meet with ice. The slope here was considerable;
-but after a quarter of an hour’s hard step-cutting even this final
-part of the ascent was accomplished. At 11 a.m. we stood on the north
-summit and a few minutes later had crossed the easy snow ridge leading
-to the highest point (13,878 ft.), where we arrived in a little over
-seven hours after leaving the Bétemps hut. The conditions had been
-exceptionally favourable, save in so far as the first icefall on the
-Zwillings Glacier was concerned. I have only heard of one other ascent
-of Castor by this route, and that by a strong guided party who were in
-all, from hut to summit, eleven hours, some eight hours of which was
-occupied in step-cutting. This fact shows plainly enough that, with
-unfavourable conditions, the climb can be quite a severe and laborious
-one.
-
-The day was fine and all but windless. We were in no hurry to get back
-to the hut; so, seeking a comfortable perch on the rocks overlooking
-the Italian side of the mountain, we indulged in a protracted summit
-rest of over two hours.
-
-The descent over the Felikhorn to the Felik Pass was without incident.
-Shortly after leaving the pass, the snow became wet and soft, and
-being only two, we had to exert great care in picking our way round
-the innumerable gigantic crevasses which intersect the upper slopes
-of the glacier. With the exception of some on Mont Blanc, I do not
-think I have ever seen such huge crevasses as those met with during
-this descent. At 4 p.m. we had safely regained our morning track, just
-where it emerged from the tangle of the lower icefall of the Zwillings
-Glacier. The passage of the delicate bridge, which appeared to provide
-the only means of crossing the first big crevasse, was attended with
-a certain amount of anxiety; but by crawling on all fours so as to
-distribute one’s weight as equally as possible, and otherwise showing
-due respect to our decaying friend bridging the gaping depths beneath,
-the passage was successfully accomplished. The rest of the work, which
-consisted in further following our morning tracks through the maze of
-séracs and crevasses leading down to the Grenz Glacier, offered no
-serious difficulty. At 5.30 p.m. we were once more back in the Bétemps
-hut.
-
-
-POLLUX.
-
-Liniger, one of the ablest of the younger members of the A.A.C.Z., and
-I went up to the Bétemps hut on August 17, 1919, with the intention
-of climbing the north ridge of Pollux. Heavy snow had fallen, and the
-possibility of carrying out a big climb was out of the question. Not
-seeing, however, why this should materially affect our prospects of
-being able to get in somewhere or other a good day’s ice work, we had
-consulted Dübi’s guide book to the Pennine Alps, to find therein no
-recorded ascent of Pollux by the north ridge.
-
-Since traversing Monte Rosa in 1911, this was my first visit to the
-Bétemps hut. The hut had been slightly enlarged, but otherwise I found
-everything much the same. It seemed almost incredible that eight years
-had elapsed since I had last watched the setting sun tinge with red the
-summits of that glorious line of peaks which runs from the Matterhorn
-to the Weisshorn. Numerous other parties arrived at the hut towards the
-end of the day, and, in order not to impede their preparations for a
-meal, we turned in to sleep at a fairly early hour.
-
-At 2 a.m. on August 18, 1919, we were up just in time to see the
-tail-end of numerous Monte Rosa parties disappear. They took with them
-their unsated curiosity as to our intentions, for, having our doubts as
-to the possibility of winning through on our climb, we had refrained
-from giving them any inkling of our intentions. Shortly after 3 a.m. we
-were ready to move off and descended over the moraine on to the Gorner
-Glacier, across which we struck in a due westerly direction. Several
-times we trod through into concealed pools of icy water and got our
-feet thoroughly soaked. It was still dark when we arrived at the steep
-moraine which marks the beginning of the north ridge of Pollux; and in
-the fitful light of the lantern, the ascent of this moraine, composed
-of mud and loose stones poised at an almost impossible angle, was
-little short of misery. At last, however, its summit was attained, and
-progress became better. Later on, where the moraine fizzled out into
-snow slopes, the light of day enabled us to dispense with the lantern,
-and we put on the rope. Proceeding up these snow slopes, dodging an
-occasional crevasse, we kept steadily on in the direction of the
-depression which lies a few yards due north of the first of the three
-prominent humps on the north ridge. We stood in this depression at 5
-a.m. and immediately began the attack on the steep ice bulge which
-defends the approach to the next hump.
-
-At first we mounted rapidly over fairly steep slopes covered with
-excellent snow. These, however, gave out as the slope increased,
-and we were reduced to cutting in bare ice. This proved to be of an
-extraordinarily tough consistency. It was dark grey, at times almost
-black in colour, and frequently the only result that a blow from
-the axe accomplished was to make a small hole, from which the pick
-tenaciously refused to be removed except at the cost of much twisting
-and pulling. In all, we had to cut about one hundred and sixty steps;
-but, for the reasons I have mentioned, progress was inordinately
-slow. Towards the top of the slope, we were able to save much work by
-making use of the irregularities in the sides of a crevasse which cut
-vertically into the ice. Once above the steeper portions of the slope,
-good snow led up to the summit of the middle hump (nearly 12,000 ft.)
-which we reached at 7.15 a.m.
-
-The third hump is about six hundred feet higher up, and the ridge
-connecting it with the point on which we now stood was in part heavily
-corniced. We therefore kept fairly well to the west of the ridge, but
-had to pay dearly for doing so; there was a great accumulation of new
-snow, and the work of stamping was heavy.
-
-By 8.30 a.m. we had passed round and slightly below the third hump,
-and gained the foot of the final slopes into which the north ridge of
-Pollux broadens out ere it reaches the summit. The next obstacle in our
-way was an extremely unpleasant-looking bergschrund surmounted by an
-enormously steep ice wall some seventy to eighty feet in height. At a
-first glance, it appeared doubtful as to whether this obstacle could be
-overcome, so we wisely decided to call a brief halt in order to recruit
-our strength.
-
-At 8.45 a.m., leaving my knapsack with Liniger and taking in exchange
-his axe, I started out to see what could be done with our formidable
-antagonist. By standing on the lower lip of the bergschrund and pushing
-both axes up to the hilt into the good snow on the other side, I was
-able to haul myself across and kick a somewhat precarious foothold.
-Still making use of Liniger’s axe as a handhold and cutting steps
-with my own, I succeeded in securing a better purchase on the steep
-slope leading upwards from the upper lip. The angle of this slope was
-certainly over sixty degrees; yet, in spite of this, it was hung with
-vast quantities of dry, powdery snow. To obtain a foothold without
-first sweeping this away and then cutting steps in the ice below, was
-impossible. To the right, a few yards higher up, a flake of ice had
-become partially detached from the wall, and, after gaining this, I
-was able to find sufficiently good standing ground for Liniger to
-follow. The next hundred feet consisted of perfectly straightforward
-cutting, though the ice was still very steep and covered with masses
-of soft, new snow that had to be swept down prior to the hewing out of
-each step. The cold was considerable, and Liniger began to complain of
-losing sensation in his feet. For my part, I did not suffer from cold,
-as I was wearing Norwegian ski-ing boots, inside of which were three
-pairs of thick woollen socks. Frost-bite would have been a most serious
-matter at this point of the climb, so we made every effort to gain the
-gentler slopes at the foot of the final wall below the summit. At 10
-a.m. we reached these slopes which stretch in the form of a terrace
-almost across the whole of the north face of Pollux. Firmly digging
-in the axes and belaying our ropes round them, we sat down and, after
-removing Liniger’s boots, proceeded to inspect the damage, if any. To
-our relief, animation was restored by vigorous and prolonged rubbing,
-and we replaced his sodden socks with a dry pair which he was fortunate
-enough to have in his knapsack.
-
-The weather, which up till now had been clear, began to assume a
-doubtful aspect. A westerly wind was sweeping masses of cloud towards
-us from the Breithorn, and occasionally we were enveloped in mist. As
-neither of us knew anything whatever about the descent of Pollux, it
-was clear that we had no more time to lose. Liniger took the lead and,
-dashing furiously ahead, kicked his way up the final slopes, until
-bare ice breaking through the snow rendered this method of progress
-no longer possible. Once more the interminable step-cutting became
-necessary. A small bergschrund was passed almost without its presence
-being noticed. The final slope is steep and consists of pure ice, but
-we found it covered by the same incohesive masses of new snow which
-had so impeded our progress lower down. Liniger worked valiantly, and,
-in spite of the circumstances, we made comparatively rapid progress.
-Long before reaching the summit, we were shrouded in driving, clammy
-mist, and the cold became bitter. It was not until 12.30 p.m. that we
-eventually reached the top (13,432 ft.). We had been almost nine and a
-half hours on the way, of which time little more than half an hour had
-been spent in resting. But we were by no means out of our troubles.
-Having got up, it now remained to be seen how we were to get down.
-Neither of us had any desire to return by the way we had come, for
-the idea of a descent of the last formidable bergschrund in doubtful
-weather was not exactly to our liking. We knew that a comparatively
-easy line of descent lay down a ridge somewhere to the south-west of
-the summit; but the difficulty was how to find the beginning of this
-ridge in the intense mists. However, it was no good remaining on the
-summit itself and waiting for the mists to clear; there seemed no
-prospect of that happening within a reasonable time. Taking a compass
-bearing, therefore, I set off in a south-westerly direction, with
-Liniger bringing up the rear. It was impossible to survey the slopes
-for more than a yard or two ahead, and, after having descended some
-distance in this manner, we gave up the search for the south-west
-ridge and, turning due west, gained some rocks which, as it transpired
-later, lie on the west face of the mountain. Their appearance was
-far from prepossessing. They were extremely steep and slabby, but on
-the principle of a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush, we
-decided to venture down. The rocks did not belie their appearance.
-They proved to be difficult and were thoroughly plastered up with ice
-and snow. On several occasions we resorted to the use of the doubled
-rope. A steep, slabby gully ending in an overhang brought us to the
-top of a tremendously steep ice slope, the first sixty feet of which
-we descended by means of the doubled rope. Thence, after cutting steps
-towards a rib of rocks, we descended this, and, plunging down final
-slopes of soft snow, crossed the bergschrund on to the glacier at a
-point immediately south of the Schwarztor.
-
-The mists now cleared and revealed to us the west wall of Pollux, down
-which we had just found a way. It would be difficult to imagine a more
-unprepossessing line of descent, especially when one considers how much
-ice and snow lay about on the rocks. However, we had nothing to grumble
-about now, as our difficulties were over in so far as getting off the
-actual peak was concerned; and, in addition, we had, thanks to the
-mist, even descended by a new route! That trouble was still in store
-for us we were aware, because we had noticed that the huge icefall
-in the Schwärze Glacier was in bad condition. Knowing that we might
-experience considerable delay in passing through this icefall, and not
-wishing to run the risk of a bivouac, we lost no time in traversing
-round to the Schwarztor and crossed over the pass at 3 p.m. The weather
-showed distinct signs of improvement, and occasionally we obtained
-fitful glimpses of the sun through breaks in the mist. Such breaks
-were welcome, for it was sometimes difficult to detect the presence
-of crevasses when the sun was obscured. As elsewhere, the glacier was
-laden with fresh snow, and frequently we sank in knee-deep. On leaving
-the Schwarztor, we descended the glacier practically in the direction
-of the Gornergrat and met with no serious opposition until arriving at
-the upper edge of the great icefall. An attempt to break through on the
-right failed ignobly, and we were reduced to retracing our steps for
-some considerable distance. Another attempt was then made, this time
-through the centre of the icefall; but, although we managed to make
-some headway, a huge wall, from which it would have been impossible to
-rope down without sacrificing an axe, again blocked all possibility
-of further descent. Once more we were forced to retrace our steps.
-Our third attempt proved lucky; we found a way out by crossing a most
-unpleasant crevasse and traversing along its lower edge. Finally,
-crossing some broken slopes and running the gauntlet of possible fire
-from several séracs of doubtful stability, we reached the open glacier.
-Passing over this and the moraine on the far side, we soon gained our
-tracks of the morning and, at 6.30 p.m., were once more back at the
-Bétemps hut.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-THE MATTERHORN--A BEGINNER’S IMPRESSIONS
-
-By AGNES ISOBEL INGLE FINCH
-
-
-The throngs who swarm on the Matterhorn day after day in the summer,
-the airy contempt with which some climbers dismiss it as a climbing
-proposition, the fact that a clumsy novice like myself has actually
-passed over it--these things do nothing to detract from the wonderment
-with which I shall always regard the ascent of the most famous mountain
-in Europe. I have watched it in its moods of calm and storm, sunshine
-and cloud, and, with eyes glued to the telescope, have seen the
-braves who callously went to sleep last night in the Schönbühl hut
-without the slightest apparent tremor of excitement or expectancy at
-what they were about to attempt in the course of the next few hours,
-creeping down the slopes in the broad daylight, stepping fearfully
-forward, slowly gaining each painful inch. I have looked upon it in
-the soft morning light from the dark pines behind the Riffelalp, as
-something not of earth, but as it were suspended in the air, splendidly
-detached from the lowly haunts of men. And always it seemed to me,
-aloof--almost aggressively aloof--and although I knew that it was part
-of the ambitious first year’s programme that had been drawn up for me,
-I could never imagine myself scaling its precipitous slopes. There
-was one point upon which I had made myself perfectly explicit. I was
-not going to climb the Matterhorn unless I could do so with zest and
-enjoyment. If one respects a mountain, one ought to approach it with
-a joyful mind. I was not going to be pulled up the steep pitches till
-the cruel rope bruised my waist so that I dared hardly move myself
-for days afterwards--a sacrifice that the Matterhorn had apparently
-frequently demanded of its votaries. I had myself suffered in likewise
-on a defiant little overhang on the Riffelhorn and found the experience
-of acting as a sack of potatoes irritating to the temper, painful to
-the flesh and thoroughly demoralising. Altogether, when I reviewed my
-general conduct on the Riffelhorn, I had little hope for success in the
-greater venture.
-
-Nevertheless, on an afternoon in August, 1923, I found myself at the
-Hörnli, where begins the climb of the Matterhorn by the Swiss ridge.
-The evening meal provided a certain amount of esoteric amusement. Our
-table was shared by two stalwart Americans who, regarding us through
-immense tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, rushed into a diatribe on
-the guideless climber who was evidently the root of all Alpine evils.
-Their ideas upon this abnormal specimen of humankind were almost as
-profuse as they were fantastic, and their faith in the word “guide”--it
-could only have been in the word, for they confessed to being unable
-to discriminate between good, bad or indifferent members of the
-fraternity--touching to the point of tears. The new light shed upon
-my companion, who was, of course, every inch an outlaw, was rather
-upsetting, and I began to be very glad indeed of the justifying
-presence of Padrun.
-
-Padrun was admirable. He had recognised my husband at Lausanne station
-and introduced himself as a guide from the Engadine. No; he had never
-climbed round Zermatt, but he would be honoured to accompany us as
-porter and to be third man on the rope where madame was middle. He
-hoped to learn and one day become a first-class guide. This no mean
-ambition and his diffidence regarding his own merits won us at once,
-and it was straightway arranged that he should join us later in
-Zermatt. He was young and strong, frank of countenance and speech,
-good to look upon and always willing. Extremely intelligent and deeply
-interested in all mountain lore, his general knowledge of the world of
-nature as well as of men was amazing, and the keenness which he brought
-to his everyday actions made him the most agreeable of companions. He
-spoke English, French, Italian, German, Swiss-German and Romanche--all
-well and freely, so that from the linguistic view point alone he was
-invaluable to us on our journeyings. But perhaps best of all he was a
-very perfect “maid.” At the close of a long, tiring day Padrun would
-cheerfully minister to our creature comforts. Without a flicker of
-annoyance, he would scour out cooking utensils that ought to have
-been left clean; dig round for ice and snow to fill the pan for tea;
-light the fire and lay the table, seemingly oblivious to the lack of
-civilised amenities; and turn down the rough blanket or mangy-looking
-sheepskin with all the _sangfroid_ and care with which Célestine would
-have turned down the cool, fine linen and soft, fleecy blankets in
-the perfect flat. This seeming disregard of discomfort was merely the
-outcome of a common sense philosophy, to which, however, I do not think
-I can attribute Padrun’s invariable success in securing a bed for me,
-even when a surplus of climbers was already in the hut. That was more a
-case of ability to seize the opportunity.
-
-[Illustration: _The Swiss ridge of the Matterhorn from the Matterhorn
-hut._
-
-_The dotted line indicates the route._
-
-  1. _Site of old Matterhorn hut._
-  2. _Solvay hut._
-  3. _The Shoulder._
-
-  _Facing page 166._
-]
-
-We turned in early. But the presumptuous nature of what I was about to
-attempt kept me wakeful; so that at one o’clock I was glad to hear the
-voices of my husband and Padrun in low conversation outside as they
-made their preparations for our high adventure. I was soon beside
-them, ready to move off. The night was beautifully clear, blue-black,
-for there was no moon; and the silence was so deep that it almost
-made one ache. We roped. My husband, as leading man, carried the only
-lantern we possessed. It proved to be a sorry affair, for we had just
-passed along the short level ridge to the foot of the obelisk, which
-in the darkness looked ten times as large as usual, when the candle
-dropped out. We recovered and re-lighted it, and pursued our scrambling
-course upwards. The way was easy; countless feet had trodden out what
-was almost a path leading along the ridge, or a little below it either
-to right or left. Soon the other parties began to follow, and twinkling
-lights showed all about the base of the Matterhorn, making it look like
-a gigantic Christmas-tree. Holds were always ready where wanted. I soon
-began to lose all consciousness of effort, my body felt light as the
-cool night air; and feet and hands, as if instinctively, sought and
-found hold. We mounted higher and higher--right out of ourselves, so to
-speak. There was none of the straining and panting that I had thought
-must mark my climbing attempts. Here and there, as we seemed to wind
-our way in and out amongst the rocky towers of the ridge, I was aware
-of the tingling depth of precipice or chasm, and once I made a false
-step and dipped my right foot over into nothingness.
-
-Presently the last of our stock of candles had fallen out of the
-rickety lantern, and we went forward in the darkness, lighted by the
-occasional flash of an electric torch. This proved troublesome, and was
-retarding our progress so much that we were moved to borrow a lantern
-from a party of three Swiss boys who, like us, were bound for the
-Italian hut.
-
-Thenceforward we climbed comfortably and without haste, until at 3.30
-a.m. we arrived at the ruins of the old Matterhorn hut which, built in
-1867, two years after the first ill-fated ascent, had afforded welcome
-shelter to many of the early conquerors of the great mountain. Situated
-in an exposed position on a small ledge at the foot of a great vertical
-bluff, it is not surprising that its present state is one of roofless
-demolition. We rested here in the gloom for five minutes, then moved
-off once more.
-
-The next step was to be the Solvay Refuge. This information was
-emphatically impressed upon me; it meant, in reality, that I was
-forbidden to linger and watch the dawn come up and chase the night from
-sky and hill. In due course we reached the place that is now known as
-Moseley’s slab. The historic interest of the Matterhorn is enhanced
-beyond that of all other mountains by the fact that so many of its
-different features bear the names of the men associated with them;
-a story seems to hang to every stone. At the slab, a steep, smooth
-pitch where hands and feet and additional effort are all required,
-the lantern was extinguished; and I saw that the rock around me and
-at my feet was losing its bluish-black tint. But I dared not divert
-my attention from the work in hand. To gain the first foothold on the
-slab, I had to have a little leverage from below and a pull from above;
-my limbs and climbing experience were alike too short to enable me to
-reach it unaided. With the exception of this and one other occasion on
-the ascent, I managed by myself, if the second person on a rope can
-ever truly be said to do so. My previous reading of Alpine literature
-had led me to conclude that, in any mountaineering venture, the man
-to whom admiration is due is he who is first on the ascent and last
-in the descent. On him falls the real work and responsibility; the
-others are merely backers-up, adequate or inadequate as the case may
-be. While the party is on the move, the leader must never relax even
-for a fraction of a second. He must never slip, must always be sure of
-himself and never lose his presence of mind. He brings the others up to
-him or lets them down while he holds them securely from above. When,
-therefore, I remark that I “managed by myself” I mean that, well nursed
-from above on a strong leading string, I contrived to lift my feet into
-the holds that were obligingly waiting for them. I had also learnt on
-the way up to support and trust myself to my arms alone, and swing
-myself up on them. An improvement this on my Riffelhorn behaviour. I
-could not then bring myself to believe that I could hang on my arms
-without their breaking or being pulled out of their sockets. What had
-actually occurred, of course, was that I had discovered the use and
-strength of fingers.
-
-At about half-past five we reached the Solvay hut. To describe sunrise
-on the mountains is a task that must be left to the brush or pen of
-the artist. The ordinary mortal must be content to worship before a
-sight than which “earth has not anything to show more fair.” Every
-mountain-top was on fire, and I chafed at the thought that had we left
-earlier, or had I been quicker, we might now have been on the summit
-of the Matterhorn knowing what it was to be bathed in the clear,
-transparent, rosy glow that, deepening, crept all too swiftly downwards
-and disappeared. Half an hour was spent in the refuge, resting and
-eating a frugal breakfast; the real banqueting ground was to be the
-summit. Just as several others parties were arriving, we resumed our
-climb. The ridge proved rather unstable, and great care had to be
-taken not to loosen stones. Keeping close together and all moving at
-once, we presently reached the Shoulder. Here begin the fixed ropes
-which render the climb too easy to the expert but are so useful and
-comforting to the tyro. Then came a short stretch of extremely sharp
-ridge with an appalling precipice falling away on the right. We were
-now moving one at a time, and as I waited while the leader went out the
-full length of the rope to find good, firm standing ground, it seemed
-to me that I simply could not face the teeth in front, to say nothing
-of the giddy drop. However, a party was following close behind us, and
-in that party was one of my own sex.
-
-Now to betray “cold feet” in the presence of another woman is out of
-the question. So I swallowed hard, sailed in with an affectation of
-nonchalance and conquered. Indeed, I believe that the main cause of my
-unwonted display of prowess, or rather the absence of my wonted display
-of clumsiness, throughout the ascent of the Swiss ridge was the thought
-that the girl behind might be watching. It is true that I once looked
-back, and found that she was completely occupied with her own doings.
-She seemed even more raw at the game than myself. But that was no
-guarantee that she wouldn’t find time to criticise.
-
-Just below the last gentle slope leading to the Swiss summit is a
-rather exposed bulge. There was no rope, though I have been told
-that there is usually one at this spot. I was too short to reach
-the handholds and pull myself up so that I could use my knee, and,
-disappointing though it was, I was forced to accept Padrun’s proffered
-shoulder as a foothold. Thenceforward to the top was a mere walk. The
-Swiss summit being too small to meet with our requirements, we took
-a quick, dizzy peep over the top into a new country and crossed over
-to the Italian summit. Here we found the three Swiss boys who were
-to follow us on the descent. We returned their lantern with many
-thanks, and seated ourselves on a fairly commodious platform lower down.
-
-[Illustration: _The Swiss summit of the Matterhorn from the Italian
-summit._
-
-_The metal cross in the foreground was erected by a party of
-enthusiastic Italian mountaineers headed by a priest._
-
-_The summit of Mont Blanc in 1911._
-
-_The partially snowed-up hut seen in the photograph is now completely
-submerged._
-
-_A contrast in mountain tops._
-
-  _Facing page 170._
-]
-
-It was about a quarter to eight; we had been over six hours _en route_,
-having taken our time and extracted as much enjoyment out of the climb
-as was possible. And now we were to reap at least one of the advantages
-of guideless climbing. Our time was our own; there was nobody to hurry
-us off to the summit after a cursory glance round at the view. I felt
-moved to pity for the girl who had agonised her way up behind me when
-I saw her ruthlessly bundled off the top after five minutes’ breathing
-space. I prepared to settle myself comfortably for the next hour and,
-acting on the assumption that I might never again visit the summit of
-the Matterhorn, proceeded to indulge in a process of cramming, mental
-and physical. My husband found a comfortable seat for me, which Padrun
-padded with knapsacks and coats. They then produced the wherewithal
-to appease my voracious appetite. I am not of those who, when above a
-certain altitude, lose all desire for food and perfunctorily nibble at
-an inadequate morsel of chocolate, nor yet of those who forget physical
-needs in the intensity of their emotional delight. Like the Persian,
-my paradise is one which caters for the body as well as the soul,
-especially after six hours’ scrambling. I clamour for bread, lots of
-it, and the thicker the better, and a generous helping of cheese. I was
-given what I craved and a thermos of tea, and therewith settled down to
-a profound enjoyment of my position and surroundings.
-
-Just how much of the pleasure of being on a mountain-top arises from
-the view alone, I have so far been unable to gauge. On a clear day, the
-eye can see for a hundred miles, perhaps two hundred miles, in every
-direction, and the breath catches at the unexpected width and bigness
-of nature and the littleness of the man-made dwellings in the far-down
-valleys. From above, the actual beauty of the rolling, snow-white
-ranges is, I think, less great than from below. I am of opinion that it
-is the feeling that one is actually on top of a peak that causes the
-pleasure, or rather elation, that grips one; and that with thick mist
-blotting out all view the elation would still exist. One is buoyed up,
-away from the earth. It is the same indefinite sensation of pleasant
-wonderment that one experiences during the not uncommon flying or
-“levitation” dream. One is simply off the earth.
-
-We sat in calm enjoyment of the wonderful panorama. The day was quiet,
-the breeze was of the gentlest, the sky of the clearest and bluest, and
-the sun was bright and warm. At our feet the mountain sloped steeply
-down on all sides. Away below, Breuil lay still asleep; and all around,
-range upon range of snow and ice-clad peaks stretched to the far
-horizon. It must have been on just such a day that Whymper made his
-memorable ascent, and human foot first trod the summit of this noblest
-of pyramids.
-
-About a quarter to nine, we began to repack in preparation for the
-descent, and by nine were ready to embark upon what I regarded as
-the most thrilling part of the day’s work. Padrun went first, I, as
-before, was middleman, and my husband came last. At a discreet distance
-followed the three Swiss boys who betrayed some little amusement at my
-audacity. I thought that the Italian ridge of the Matterhorn was one
-long succession of vertical, even overhanging precipices, over which
-one let oneself down on ropes. Like most people who have never climbed,
-I was possessed of various preconceived ideas regarding precipices, the
-chief of which was that I would find being on the edge of one so dizzy
-an experience, that I would immediately lose my head and tumble over.
-A rather more interesting one was that I would want to throw myself
-over! I had often when on top of high sea cliffs, watching the waves
-splash and whiten against the rocks below, been strangely conscious
-of the uncanny lure of depth. Though I had not been unaware of the
-presence of appalling steepnesses while ascending the Swiss ridge, I
-had neither suffered from vertigo nor evinced the slightest desire to
-fling myself into space. I had not had time. My faculties had been
-concentrated on what was immediately before and above me, and not on
-what was behind and below. Precipices were part and parcel of the
-mountain, and to act like a fly on a wall seemed the most natural thing
-in the world. It is not to be supposed for one moment that I could walk
-along the edge of a house roof and escape disaster!
-
-Padrun went forward, and soon came his shout, “A fixed rope!” He
-lowered himself over, out of sight. I waited for his signal. “All
-right!” Cautiously I approached the brink and peered over. I must
-confess to a shock. Padrun was standing below me, grinning cheerfully
-on what seemed a most inadequate platform for one pair of mountain
-boots, let alone two. He assured me, however, that there was room and
-invited me to “come along.” From the rear came an order to the same
-effect. I was greatly troubled. How to lean down on the edge of nothing
-and catch hold of the fixed rope was a difficult problem. My feet were
-dreadfully far off. But the plunge had to be taken. I suppose I must
-have turned face in towards the rock, kneeled down and lowered myself
-on my arms until I had slithered far enough over to be able to grasp
-the rope--a pleasantly thick one it was! I scraped for footholds and
-found them at distressingly long intervals, so that practically all
-the time I was hanging on my hands. I had not yet learned to shin down
-a rope, sailor fashion, using feet as brakes. I was, of course, held
-securely from above on the Alpine rope. My nurse was conscientiousness
-itself, but the Alpine rope looked terribly puny, and I was not quite
-convinced that, if I released my hold on the fixed rope, the other
-could stand my weight. All manner of interesting information as to the
-strength and breaking strain of an Alpine rope had been vouchsafed to
-me, but I was sceptical. So I clung as if for dear life with my hands.
-Presently I joined Padrun on the little shelf, and, as soon as I had
-made myself secure, he went down the next pitch. “All right!” I passed
-the word up to my husband, who came down at an amazing speed as I took
-in his rope. Then he once more let me down to Padrun. And so it went
-on. I meant to count the ropes on the Italian ridge, but failed to
-carry out my intention. They seemed innumerable. In time the strain
-on my arms began to tell, and the friction was beginning to tear the
-skin off my hands, but still I could not be induced to trust to the
-climbing rope and permit myself to be lowered over. Finally, however,
-came the last straw that broke down the barrier of distrust. Half-way
-down one very long rope, my outraged arms struck work. Willy-nilly, I
-was hanging on the Alpine rope like a spider on its thread--and behold!
-it did not break under my weight. The pitch was safely negotiated, and
-almost immediately afterwards we were at the famous ladder of Jordan.
-It was a very pretty ladder with strong rope sides and wooden rungs,
-but it hung over a great bulge and dangled in space. Padrun held it as
-near the wall at the bottom as he could while I descended face towards
-the rock. As I approached the nose, the ladder showed a tendency to
-swing away from the rock, and when I actually arrived at the tip, the
-space between myself and the wall was disagreeably wide. It was the
-most thrilling part of the descent so far, but soon over. From the
-spacious platform at the foot, I watched carefully, on the look-out
-for the correct way to descend Jordan’s ladder, and I saw that when my
-husband reached the tip of the nose, that is, the edge of the actual
-overhang, he changed his position and came down on the _inside_ of the
-ladder.
-
-[Illustration: _Descending the Italian ridge._
-
-“... a pleasantly thick fixed rope.”
-
-  _Facing page 174._
-]
-
-All the time since passing the first fixed rope, we had been working
-more or less down the face of the mountain. Now we turned slightly
-to our right and gained the ridge. On the broad shelf that marks the
-beginning of Carrel’s corridor, we rested for fully an hour. It had
-been our intention to snatch only a short breathing space, but two
-parties were coming up towards us, and, as the ground was loose and
-unstable, we waited until they approached. The first was a party of
-three, whose feet were continually getting entangled in their rope
-which lay in coils between each member and dragged loose stones about
-in a most disconcerting manner. It was warm and sunny, we had many
-hours of daylight at our disposal--for our destination that day was
-only the Italian hut--and the world was beautiful to look upon.
-
-About eleven o’clock we again resumed work on the ridge. The ground was
-scaly and unpleasant. Thin, flat flakes of stone slipped out underneath
-the feet. Keeping close together we soon arrived at the Col Félicité,
-so called in honour of the first woman who reached it; but a more
-incongruous name, from the point of view of appearance, could not have
-been found. A little later we came to a narrow snow bridge connecting
-the shingly slope of the Italian face above with the long level ridge
-of the Pic Tyndall. Some fifteen inches wide, the bridge falls away
-nearly perpendicularly on either side to a tremendous depth. I could
-not help thinking that it would have been much more agreeable if the
-approach to the bridge had been level and stable instead of sloping and
-loose, and the exit had not been blocked by a little vertical tower
-some fifteen feet high over which it was necessary to climb. Padrun
-sauntered over as calmly as if he were walking on the finest Roman
-viaduct, and scaled the wall of the tower at the other end. It looked
-a giddy proceeding. I felt sure that I would wobble to one side or
-other, and, despite the fact that I would simply dip for a moment into
-space and then be hoisted up on the rope, the demoralising effect would
-doubtless be calamitous. However, that “there’s nothing either good or
-bad but thinking makes it so” is nowhere so true as on the mountains.
-The idea of the venture proved one thousandfold more dreadful than
-the actuality. I kept my eyes on the turret a few feet away, and was
-clambering up before I realised it. Daring greatly, I paused to look
-down, just for the good of my own self-respect. The effect was quite
-exhilarating.
-
-Once on the ridge of the Pic Tyndall, the going was easy. A stretch of
-snowy crest provided a welcome change. At the farther end of this I
-suddenly felt fatigued. Padrun was encouraging. He indicated a great
-tower on the ridge. “The hut is just below,” he said. “It will take
-only fifteen minutes.” The result was marvellous; the distance did look
-short, and my husband, who must have known well enough how deceived
-Padrun was, had apparently not the heart to dispel our fond illusions.
-So tired was I, that even my scepticism had vanished, and my memory
-failed to remind me that ridges have a habit of magically stretching
-as you proceed along them. Their ends, like the tops of mountains,
-seem to recede as you advance, and indulge in the playful game until
-the very last moment. From the Pic Tyndall to the Italian hut took us
-almost exactly one and a half hours. Before arriving at the big tower
-we left the ridge and descended by an exceedingly long fixed rope well
-down into the face on the left, until we found a ledge that led us
-again to the right. The slope, known as the “Linceul,” over which it is
-customary to make one’s way by cutting a few steps, was devoid of ice,
-and a slight deviation from the normal route was necessary. Up and down
-we seemed to go, and once round a little natural balcony that hung out
-over space but proved not in the least heady. A handrail in the shape
-of a fixed rope was provided. Thence onwards the route was well-marked.
-Short, helpful ropes led down chimneys and over slabs to the hut where
-we arrived at three o’clock.
-
-The hut is small, and we found it already overcrowded. But going
-straight down to Breuil was not to be thought of. The two sleeping
-bunks arranged one above the other were full of inmates sleeping off
-the effects of their labours: most had walked up from Breuil, and were
-to return next day. I made up my mind to sleep either on the floor or
-sitting by the table; either course, uncomfortable though it might
-be, was more enticing than the questionable comfort and warmth of the
-sheep-skins that served as bed-linen. Padrun, the indefatigable, set
-about clearing a space on the littered table, prior to preparing a
-meal. Finding that there was no water in the hut, he picked up two
-buckets and went forth in search of ice; something of a quest on the
-Matterhorn during last year’s phenomenally fine summer. Meantime, my
-husband proceeded to build a fire in the stove and soon had it alight.
-Padrun presently returned with a supply of ice. After removing as much
-of the superficial lining of the pans as he could, he filled them with
-the ice and put them on to boil. The noise of these activities began to
-communicate itself to the other occupants of the room, as also did the
-dense smoke from the fire. Blowing their noses, coughing and wiping
-tearful eyes, sleepily stretching themselves, they slowly forsook their
-couches. I put on my snow-glasses to ward off the attacks of smoke
-and, having ensconced myself in a corner near the window, interestedly
-watched further happenings.
-
-There is no crowd so amusing as a crowd of Italians. Good-naturedly
-they jostled each other, all talking at once. A change this from the
-last fifteen hours. Mountaineering is almost as silent as whist!
-Scarcely a word is spoken while the game is in progress, save as
-command or assurance--or when a player is argumentative or more than
-usually clumsy, in which circumstances the leader waxes eloquent
-indeed! The spirit of emulation was strong within the inmates of the
-hut. I watched thirty of them all trying to regale themselves at
-once--from Padrun’s precious water pans! Presently my attention became
-riveted to one quarter. A youth stood lolling against the door. Every
-few seconds he expectorated in the direction of the fire. Fearful, but
-undeniably fascinated, I regarded Padrun’s cooking-pots. That boy had a
-beautiful aim. The pots took half an hour to boil, and during all that
-time the water remained undefiled.
-
-We had tea seasoned with loads of sugar and lemon. Then we had soup; at
-least, that is what they call the concoction in the mountains. A spoon
-will stand upright in it. The chief ingredients are macaroni, chunks
-of bread and cheese and a tin of beef. A good chef will make his own
-little distinctive additions and alterations. The meal over, I went
-outside. Interested as I was in our gaily-chattering companions, it was
-scarcely fair to keep a seat that another hungry being would welcome.
-Besides, the atmosphere within was stifling; the window was closed and
-the fire smoking as furiously as ever. Without was the sweet cool
-mountain air and the silence of open spaces, broken only by the roaring
-of the stone avalanches that made all the south face of the great
-mountain alive.
-
-[Illustration: _The Matterhorn from the Dent d’Hérens._
-
-“... it stands utterly alone, ... surely the most wonderful mountain in
-the world.”
-
-  _Facing page 178._
-]
-
-Dusk fell. Padrun came out and fetched me. Would I like to lie down
-and rest? He had obviously seized an opportunity! The idea of the bunk
-and the sheep-skins was no longer so repugnant, for I was very weary.
-I stepped inside. Padrun had found a place for me in the lower bunk,
-and begged me to accept his coat as covering. Sleep was out of the
-question. The incessant talk and bustle precluded any idea of such a
-thing; but just to stretch out and relax every muscle was sheer luxury
-of feeling. About ten o’clock the entire family was abed. The floor
-space was all utilised, likewise the little loft where the wood was
-stored. I lay all night long in the same position--on my right side,
-and so squeezed up against the wall of the hut that I dared not budge
-an inch for fear of bumping my nose. The breadth of my “bed” could not
-possibly have exceeded nine or ten inches. But I slept.
-
-About half-past two next morning, movements were heard in the bunk
-above, and once more the bulk of the inhabitants yawned their way out
-of bed. At half-past five no one had left the hut, so that all shared
-the excitement that followed. A terrific cracking followed by a mighty
-roar was heard. Flying missiles struck the walls and roof of the hut.
-Tearing its way down towards the glacier was a huge mass of rock which
-must have weighed some fifty tons. The whole of the slab on the lower
-side of the first rope immediately above the hut had detached itself
-from the parent mass.
-
-When the excitement had died down, the first party began the descent
-towards Breuil. Others followed, and by seven o’clock the hut was empty
-except for ourselves and a party of two young Swiss boys and their
-guides, who had made the ascent of the Zmutt ridge on the previous
-day. Both parties agreed to wait until the last Italians were well
-out of sight. We would then go down, keeping as close together as was
-possible on account of loose stones. We breakfasted and left the hut at
-eight. The party of four went first. They descended quickly and soon
-outpaced us, so slow was I. As my arms still ached from yesterday’s
-exertions, the idea of more fixed ropes was not exactly pleasing. They
-were very short, however--all but one, which was sixty feet in length,
-but, mercifully for me, knotted. The experts found the knots a bane
-and a hindrance to shinning down; but to me they were an unqualified
-boon. They prevented my hands from slipping and furnished me with an
-occasional rest. Soon we were on the wide, slabby ridge once more, and
-descending with as much speed as my presence and the necessary care
-would allow. Suddenly my attention was arrested by a loud shout from my
-husband, “Falling stones!” Now teaching, common sense, to say nothing
-of life in London during the war, all told me that when missiles fall
-from above the decorous thing to do is to take cover. But curiosity
-proved stronger than common sense or teachings. I sat down and stared,
-fascinated by the two immense blocks surrounded by smaller satellites
-that came whirring relentlessly down towards us. I saw my husband make
-himself as small as possible on the slab. Padrun went down on his knees
-and hid his head, ostrich-wise, in a most inadequate hole. His bulky,
-nobbly knapsack, bristling with two ice-axes, stuck up in the air--a
-fair target for any missile. I was busily engaged calculating what the
-effect on Padrun would be of the impact of a boulder upon the spike
-of one of the axes, when I heard an agonised warning from my husband,
-and at the same time received a jerk on the rope about my waist which
-effectively laid me low. The spectacle Padrun presented proved too
-much for me, however, and I lay there shaking with laughter, totally
-heedless of the danger to which we were undoubtedly exposed. The rocks
-passed over us; we were unscathed. Some fifty feet farther down, they
-crashed explosively into the ridge and, their number increased a
-hundredfold, resumed their mad course. When everything was quiet again
-above, we moved off with all speed and presently arrived at a fairly
-well-defined track over scree slopes which led on to the Col du Lion.
-Thence skirting for some distance round the base of the Tête du Lion,
-the path brought us down the so-called Grand Staircase to the green
-pasture-lands above Breuil.
-
-Something made us stop simultaneously and look back. Mists concealed
-the mountains; but through a little circular rift in the clouds,
-immeasurably far above and seemingly overhead, appeared a patch of blue
-sky and a dark, irregular dome-like shape. “See where you have stood,”
-said my husband proudly. Then only did I realise that what I saw was
-the summit of the Matterhorn. Inexpressibly awed, I turned towards the
-valley.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-THE MATTERHORN
-
-
-Perhaps no other mountain in the Alps, or for that matter in the whole
-world, can make such an appeal to the eye as the Matterhorn. This
-appeal is not merely one of beauty and boldness of form, but also
-one of position. The Matterhorn has no neighbours in close proximity
-to invite comparison; it stands utterly alone--a great, dark, rocky
-pyramid with sides of tremendous steepness, and towering up towards
-the heavens from out a girdle of glistening séracs and snowfields. It
-was one of the last of the great summits of the Alps to succumb to the
-onslaughts of man, and the terrible tragedy whereby four of the seven
-men who were the first conquerors lost their lives on the descent is
-still fresh in the public memory.
-
-The summit of the Matterhorn consists of a narrow, almost level, rock
-ridge, about two hundred and fifty feet in length. The northern end of
-this ridge is called the Swiss summit, and the southern the Italian
-summit. In the former converge the Swiss and Furggen ridges and in the
-latter the Italian and Zmutt ridges. The first successful ascent of the
-Matterhorn was made by the Swiss ridge. Here the climbing is nowhere
-really difficult until one is above the level section lying immediately
-below the summit and known as the Shoulder. Beyond the Shoulder,
-the rock is steep and difficult, and would demand great care and
-climbing skill were it not for the fact that this part of the ridge is
-festooned with stout ropes, thanks to which the most inexperienced and
-untalented of climbers can be dragged in safety to the top. The second
-ascent of the Matterhorn was carried out over the Italian ridge. The
-climbing here is more difficult than any met with on the Swiss ridge;
-and though, even here, the rock is nowadays decorated with a profusion
-of thick ropes which enable many to climb it who would otherwise not
-even dream of attempting to, there are still unroped sections of such
-difficulty that the Italian ridge is unquestionably a harder climbing
-problem than the Swiss. Of the other two ridges of the mountain, the
-Furggen ridge, though it has been climbed, is in sections so exposed to
-falling stones that it cannot be regarded as a justifiable undertaking.
-But the Zmutt ridge is a sound climb and has the distinction of being
-the only really practicable route to the summit which is devoid of the
-artificial aids of fixed ropes and chains. Both the Swiss and Italian
-ridges of the Matterhorn were climbed in 1865, but it was not until
-many years afterwards that the summit was gained over the Zmutt ridge.
-
-In September, 1879, two of the strongest climbing parties that have
-ever been known in the Alps at last succeeded in opening up what is
-to-day the finest line of approach to the top of the Matterhorn. The
-first party consisted of the late Mr. A. F. Mummery, with the guides
-Alexander Burgener, Johann Petrus and A. Gentinetta; the second, of Mr.
-W. Penhall with Ferdinand Imseng and Louis Zurbruggen. Mummery’s party
-followed the ridge almost throughout, but Penhall climbed for the most
-part on the Tiefenmatten face, that immense series of cliffs enclosed
-between the Zmutt and Italian ridges, reaching the ridge only at a very
-elevated point.
-
-After crossing Monte Rosa from Macugnaga, Case, Obexer, Max and I
-arrived at the Monte Rosa Hotel in Zermatt, where we were welcomed
-by two old members of the Academic Alpine Club of Zürich, Ernest
-Martini and Val Fynn. The latter suggested that we should join forces
-and make a combined attack upon the Zmutt ridge of the Matterhorn,
-descending via the Italian ridge to Breuil. Coming as it did from Fynn,
-probably the most experienced and best guideless climber the Alps have
-ever seen, the suggestion was received with enthusiasm; and, on the
-evening of August 12, 1911, the six of us berthed down together in the
-Schönbühl hut which lies far up in the Zmutt Valley, at a distance of
-about three and a half hours from Zermatt.
-
-At one o’clock next morning, under the guidance of Fynn who had
-reconnoitred the preliminary part of the route on the previous day, we
-descended over the loose blocks of the moraine below the hut on to the
-glacier, and made our way across towards the great shut-in basin of the
-Tiefenmatten Glacier which lies at the foot of the Zmutt ridge. Keeping
-far over to the right so as to avoid the crevasses of the icefall, we
-gained the basin, whence we were able to work round in a wide curve
-towards the cliffs below the lower, snowy section of the Zmutt ridge.
-Soon we were climbing up the rocks and, passing by two little walls
-of stones, possibly the remains of Mummery’s bivouac, we reached the
-snow slopes above. The snow was good and well-frozen, and we were able
-to kick steps up on to the ridge which we struck just above the lower
-end of the prominent snowy section. The ridge was not steep, and the
-snow was in excellent condition. Kicking steps, we made good headway.
-The snow ridge finally merged into a crest of broken rocks up which
-we scrambled, to arrive at a deep gap beyond which towered several
-grim _gendarmes_ or rocky teeth. It was six o’clock, and, though our
-progress had been anything but hurried, we were nothing loth to
-making breakfast an excuse for a halt. The early morning sun, weak
-though its rays were, helped to take the edge off the knife-like
-northerly breeze. Nevertheless, we were glad enough when Fynn,
-reminding us that the real part of the day’s work was now before us,
-gave the order to prepare to move off.
-
-[Illustration: _The Matterhorn from the Stockje._
-
-_The Tiefenmatten face is enclosed by the Zmutt ridge, seen on
-the left, and the Italian on the right. In the foreground is the
-Tiefenmatten Glacier._]
-
-[Illustration: _The Matterhorn at sunset._
-
-  _Facing page 184._
-]
-
-We roped in two parties; Fynn, Max and Obexer on one rope, Martini,
-Case and myself on the other. Our commander-in-chief, bent on putting
-the younger recruits through their paces, detailed Max and myself
-as leaders. We on our part were only too eager to obey, and, as
-soon as all was in readiness, we climbed down into the gap. Despite
-appearances, no difficulty was encountered; the three prominent teeth
-in the gap were easily circumvented. By the time that we had passed
-the third, the sun disappeared behind the mountain, and for the first
-time the cold really made itself felt. A few days previously, a violent
-thunderstorm had deposited a sprinkling of snow, and the steep rocks
-now before us were still white and partly glazed with a thin veneer of
-ice. Under these circumstances we considered it advisable to forsake
-the backbone of the ridge and traverse out for some considerable
-distance into the huge and precipitous gully falling away to the
-Matterhorn Glacier. The work now demanded great care, for, owing to the
-absence of jutting out bits of rock over which the rope might have been
-belayed, a slip would have entailed grave consequences. We all felt we
-could trust each other, however, and without anxiety we pursued our
-course, cautiously plying the axe to clean out the snow and ice from
-every hand- and foothold, until we at last reached some good broken
-rocks which, though steep, led us without much difficulty back to the
-ridge. We were now far above the teeth. For a short time the ridge was
-adhered to, but once again it became steep, and a treacherous layer
-of ice on the rock, masked by a covering of snow, drove us once more
-out into the gully on the left. The rock here was very steep, but more
-broken up. To even matters up somewhat, however, snow filled up the
-interstices. It was extremely cold for midsummer, but, owing to the
-steepness of the gully and the tricky nature of the work, gloves could
-not be used, as they interfered too much with one’s grip on handholds.
-For the second time that day we were climbing under conditions where a
-slip on the part of one man would have involved all his comrades on the
-rope in destruction, and we could not afford to make mistakes. Fynn’s
-cheery voice exhorting us to “take our time and put hands and feet down
-as if the Matterhorn belonged to us” supplied extra encouragement,
-if indeed such were necessary, to do our best to show a master in
-mountain-craft that the younger generation were eager to emulate.
-
-Up and up the gully we climbed, and, as we rose, it became steeper and
-steeper, until the man below saw nothing but the nailed boot soles
-of the man above. Snow choked all cracks and crannies and concealed
-handholds, but fortunately the rocks were free from ice. Carefully
-scraping and kicking, we cleared the snow away, and at last, just as my
-bare fingers had become so cold as to be devoid of feeling, I scraped
-out a channel in the little snow cornice crowning the exit of the gully
-and stepped back on to the crest of the Zmutt ridge. Here at last was
-good standing ground. The ridge was fairly broad. Behind us stood a
-prominent rocky tower; in front the ridge led up towards the summit. On
-the left, flanking the great gully by which we had ascended, was that
-tremendous overhang on a branch on the ridge, which has been so aptly
-called the “Nose of Zmutt.” The sunshine on the ridge was welcome
-indeed after the chill hours spent in the shade. During the intervals
-in a course of energetic exercises designed to restore circulation and
-warmth to feet and hands, we ate a second breakfast. Again, however,
-the north wind cut short our stay, and at eight o’clock we prepared
-for the final section of the climb. Given normal conditions, two hours
-might have sufficed to see us on the summit. As things were, however,
-five hours were needed, in spite of the fact that from here onwards
-we climbed as fast as we could go with safety and without resting. We
-attempted to follow the ridge, but in a short time great steep steps,
-which occasionally were overhanging and from which gigantic icicles
-depended, forced us off the crest, this time out to the right towards
-the Italian ridge. Hitherto, though we had undoubtedly surmounted two
-pitches requiring care and delicate handling, and the work as a whole
-had been far from easy, the task which now confronted us was an even
-more serious one. I gathered the impression that under favourable
-conditions the ground over which we were now to pass would have been
-perfectly straightforward and by no means difficult. As it chanced,
-however, fresh snow lay about everywhere, and, more pernicious still,
-the rocks were glazed with ice. Shortly after leaving the ridge, we
-had to cut steps across a wide ice slope on to a little rib of broken
-rocks, the crest of which was ice-free. Viewing the rest of the ground
-from this point, I judged it advisable to continue the traverse before
-attempting to climb upwards. Fynn, however, who had taken over the lead
-of the second party, elected to proceed directly up, although by so
-doing he had to climb over more difficult ground. The reason for this
-choice was quite simple. There was a great deal of loose rock about,
-and, owing to the difficult nature of the ground, it was quite within
-the bounds of possibility that one or other of us might start stones
-falling. It was in order to minimise danger from this source that
-Fynn set himself the more laborious and intricate task of continuing
-straight upwards.
-
-[Illustration: “_... that tremendous overhang called the ‘Nose of
-Zmutt.’_”
-
-  _Facing page 186._
-]
-
-After traversing for another hundred feet or so, I appeared to be
-almost vertically under the summit. Considering that my opportunity
-had come, I struck up over ice-glazed rocks and through ice-filled
-gullies; preferably the latter, as the ice, as a rule, was sufficiently
-deep to permit the cutting of good steps. Our party soon drew level
-with Fynn’s, but could not overtake them, though we were working over
-less difficult ground. Steadily and safely, Fynn led his party across
-ice-covered rocks which would have taxed the skill of the very best.
-For over three hours we fought our way inch by inch, until at last,
-almost simultaneously, both parties reached the famous ledge known as
-Carrel’s Corridor. This ledge runs from the Italian ridge across the
-face of the Matterhorn to the Zmutt ridge. Here our difficulties were
-at an end. It is true that the rock wall above the ledge was vertical,
-even overhanging, and that below were the slippery slabs up which we
-had just come; but the corridor itself was in places almost level and
-broad enough to afford perfectly secure footing--a relief after what
-we had undergone. The ledge was heavily laden with powdery, incohesive
-snow, through which we ploughed, knee-deep, over towards the Zmutt
-ridge. Fynn had gained the corridor at a point nearer the ridge than
-we had, and presently I saw him disappear round a bold corner of rock.
-Obexer and Max in turn followed, and from their lusty yells of joy we
-knew that they were back again on the ridge, and all was now plain
-sailing to the top. On rounding the corner, I looked out beyond those
-grim slopes, the scene of the tragedy of 1865, and espied two parties
-making their way down to the Shoulder on the Swiss ridge. Then I looked
-up. All was clear. The ridge, though in parts still steep, consisted of
-rock which offered a profusion of holds for hand and foot, and, dashing
-ahead at a great pace, we caught up Fynn’s party just as they arrived
-on the Italian summit (14,705 ft.).
-
-It was one o’clock. With us arrived another, and to us unpleasant,
-visitor. Harbinger of ill weather, a dense bank of cloud shut out the
-sun and obscured the view. But bad weather or no bad weather, we now
-claimed the right to a square meal and a rest. The cooking apparatus
-was brought forth, and knapsacks searched for food. Fynn unearthed
-a veritable gold mine in the shape of a plum pudding, while Martini
-produced that peculiar speciality of Italy called salami, a sausage
-whose inside is reputed to be either cat, dog or donkey, or a discreet
-mixture of all three. But appetites were too big to be over-fastidious,
-and what with plum pudding, salami and other good and solid odds and
-ends, to be washed down by generous supplies of hot tea, a feast was
-laid which received full justice.
-
-At two o’clock Fynn shepherded us together again, and the descent was
-begun. Martini was the only one amongst us who had ever been on the
-Italian ridge before, but, as he confessed to a bad memory, I was
-deputed to find the way down, while to him and Fynn fell the onerous
-post of bringing up the rear of their respective parties. In the dense
-fog surrounding us, I was, for a moment or two, at a loss as to where
-to seek for the start. Acting on Fynn’s advice to “go to the edge
-of the drop,” I stepped out carefully towards the brink of the huge
-precipice that falls away towards Italy. Almost at once I saw before me
-the bleached strands of a stout rope fixed to a strong iron pin driven
-into the rocks. The details of the Italian ridge having been dealt
-with in the preceding chapter, it will, therefore, be unnecessary to
-repeat them here. Suffice it to say that we descended the frost-riven
-rocks and precipices of this magnificent ridge with all possible speed,
-goaded by the constant threat of a storm that fortunately never broke.
-
-It was not until we were far below the Pic Tyndall, and had descended
-the great rope which enables one to avoid the battlemented crest above
-the great tower, that we met with adventure. To regain the ridge
-below the tower, a steep ice slope known as the “Linceul” has to be
-crossed. On approaching this slope, we sighted a party of four German
-climbers, who later informed us that they had already spent two hours
-endeavouring to cross. Incapable of cutting steps, they were helpless.
-One, however, possessed of more resolution than his comrades, was
-preparing to set about making a last desperate effort to cross and,
-to assist him in his endeavour, had called upon one of the others
-to hold him on the rope. The latter untied the rope from around his
-waist and held it in his hands as his companion did his utmost to cut
-steps. To us, who came upon the scene at this very minute, the base
-object of the second man in untying himself was only too obvious. He
-feared that, in the event of the first man slipping, he might not be
-able to check the fall, and, tied to the rope, he too might be dragged
-down over the precipice. By unroping and merely grasping the rope in
-his hands, he would, in the event of a slip proving too much of a
-strain on his strength, be able to save himself at the expense of his
-comrade, by simply letting the rope go. The mountains are indeed true
-and stern testers of friendship, loyalty and courage. On seeing us,
-the Germans brightened up. They were profuse in their explanations of
-their difficulties and requests for assistance. Both were unnecessary,
-especially the former, for we recognised at once the peculiar type
-of mountain climber with whom we had to deal. They belonged to a
-self-styled group of “guideless” climbers who are singularly deficient
-in mountaineering knowledge and ability and many other qualities
-besides, which it will not be necessary to enumerate. Their kind are
-to be met with everywhere in the Alps. Usually they confine their
-activities to the easiest of climbs and snow trudges, where they can
-follow unthinkingly in the deep-trodden tracks of previous parties.
-Sometimes they venture on expeditions the difficulties of which
-are beyond their powers; and, on such occasions, they take care to
-follow on the heels of some efficient climbing party, be it guided or
-unguided. This is actually what these four men had done. Early that
-morning they had started out to follow a guided party up the Swiss and
-down the Italian ridges of the Matterhorn. As far as the summit, they
-had contrived to keep close behind. The difficulties of the descent,
-however, overtaxed their powers, with the result that the guided party
-soon far outstripped them, and they were left to their own resources.
-Hence the sad predicament in which we found them. It is this special
-breed of “guideless” climber, who is guideless only in that he does not
-himself engage and pay for the services of a guide, that has in the
-past done so much to bring discredit upon guideless climbing proper.
-The man who professes to be a guideless climber should avoid frequented
-routes and has no right to embark upon an undertaking to which he is
-not fully equal, no matter what the circumstances may be.
-
-Fynn sent on my party to cut the necessary steps across the Linceul,
-while he, with the assistance of Max and Obexer, carefully nursed the
-four incompetents over to the safe ground beyond. Soon afterwards we
-passed the ruins of the old Italian hut and, descending some steep
-slabs by means of a long fixed rope, arrived at the Italian Club Hut
-at 6.30 p.m. It was filled with climbers intending to make the ascent
-on the next day, and, as the four rescued men were clearly incapable
-of proceeding farther that evening, we had to make up our minds to
-continue the descent, in order that they might find room for the night.
-We carried on past the Col du Lion, down the Grand Staircase--those
-easy, broken rocks south of the Tête du Lion--and gained the meadows
-above Breuil just after nightfall. We boasted only one lantern amongst
-us. Fynn carried it and unravelled the vagaries of a twisting track
-leading down towards the far off, beckoning hôtel lights. At ten
-o’clock, twenty-one hours after leaving the Schönbühl hut, tired but
-happy, we made our way through a throng of inquisitive holiday makers
-to the dining-room of the Jomein, and were soon bringing such hearty
-appetites to bear upon the good food provided that the brows of even
-our worthy host rose high with astonishment.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-THE DENT D’HÉRENS
-
-
-One of the younger generation of mountain climbers once complained
-bitterly to me that there were no new climbs to be done in the Alps,
-the pioneers having, in his opinion, with extraordinary thoroughness
-and selfish disregard for their posterity, climbed every virgin
-pinnacle and explored all climbable ridges and faces. To his surprise,
-I replied that our thanks were due to the pioneers, for though some
-had no doubt digested much of the grain, the fattest and best grains
-remained for the man of to-day who knew where to look. The good grain
-that is left can no longer be picked up without trouble. We all know
-what faces and ridges of mountains have not been explored, but the
-successful climbing of these must be preceded by careful and patient
-investigation.
-
-In August, 1911, I enjoyed a happy day of perfect laziness on the
-Stockje. My main purpose was to examine the Zmutt ridge, with the
-intention of climbing it on the following day. But ever and again my
-gaze was irresistibly drawn, as if for relief, from the solemn, dark
-magnificence of the Matterhorn to the white purity and graceful curves
-of the hanging glaciers of the north face of the Dent d’Hérens; and
-I found myself seeking in vain to trace the way by which it had been
-climbed. That winter, on searching Alpine literature, I discovered,
-with no little astonishment, that the whole vast north face of the
-mountain, from the Col Tournanche right round to the north-west ridge,
-was every inch of it virgin ground. Here truly was a grain fat enough
-to satisfy the greediest appetite, and I made up my mind to secure it.
-
-It was not until 1913 that I had an opportunity of returning to
-the Schönbühl hut. From there I set out on a prospecting trip and,
-traversing the Wandfluh from the foot of the Dent Blanche down to
-the Col d’Hérens, not only succeeded in spying out a feasible way
-of conquering the north face of the Dent d’Hérens, but also gained
-some insight into the geography of the mountain itself. The peak is a
-curiously complicated one, and the errors into which even surveyors,
-especially on the Italian side, have fallen, are well-known. The summit
-is supported by four ridges--the south ridge which leads down to the
-lower Za-de-Zan Glacier, the west ridge to the Tiefenmattenjoch, the
-north-west ridge to the Tiefenmatten Glacier, and the east ridge to
-the Col Tournanche. The west and north-west ridges meet at a point
-less than one hundred feet west of the summit. The north-west ridge,
-when seen from the Schönbühl hut, is easily confused with the west
-ridge, from which it is actually separated by the steep, glaciated
-slopes of the north-west face. The fact that the ice cliffs of this
-face seem to be perched on the north-west ridge has probably given
-rise to the impression that this ridge can no longer be climbed owing
-to the formation thereon of a hanging glacier. In reality the ridge
-is entirely free from such encumbrances. Between the north-west and
-east ridges lies the north face. The watershed ridge between the Val
-Tournanche and the Valpelline does not reach up to the Dent d’Hérens;
-shortly above the Col des Grandes Murailles it loses itself in the
-southern slopes of the east ridge.
-
-From my point of vantage on the Wandfluh, I saw that the north face
-of the Dent d’Hérens carries a huge glacier terrace, or corridor
-which, beginning low down near the foot of the north-west ridge,
-rises diagonally upwards across the face and reaches the east ridge
-just below the great final _gendarme_ east of the summit. It was
-perfectly clear that, could this terrace be gained at its lower end
-and left at its upper, the problem of climbing the face would be
-solved. Despite my conviction that the climb was feasible, however, the
-objective dangers--that is, unavoidable dangers from falling ice and
-stones--appeared so great that for the time being I gave up all idea of
-making the attempt.
-
-During the war a handful of mountain photographs beguiled many a
-weary hour, and among them was one of the Dent d’Hérens as seen from
-the Wandfluh. I studied this picture intently, and finally promised
-myself another look at the mountain as soon as possible after the
-war. In 1919, therefore, the Schönbühl hut became once more my base
-of operations. I again traversed the Wandfluh and later, by climbing
-the Tiefenmattenjoch from the north, was able to inspect more closely
-the possible approaches to the lower end of the great ice corridor.
-Eventually, in order to obtain a more comprehensive view of the upper
-reaches of the corridor, I climbed the Matterhorn. At last, believing
-that nothing else would furnish the required information, accompanied
-by Mr. Hafers, I made the ascent of the north-west ridge. This climb
-showed me that the dangers of the north face were by no means to
-be underrated. The whole terrace gathered up much of the rock that
-crumbled away from the uppermost slopes of the mountain, and the
-approaches to its lower end were not only swept by stones from sunrise
-to sunset, but were also defended by frequent falls of ice. Indeed,
-real safety there appeared to be none until the east ridge had been
-gained at the foot of the great _gendarme_ before mentioned. I retired
-discomfited. But the magnet was strong, and, in 1921, having meanwhile
-somewhat modified my views as to what precisely constitutes objective
-dangers, I returned to the Schönbühl hut, whence a series of visits
-to the Pointe de Zinal, the Stockje, and the Tête de Valpelline at
-length convinced me that what, in ordinary circumstances, would be a
-dangerous climb, could, if tackled properly, be converted into a safe
-and justifiable undertaking. The lateness of the season, however,
-prohibited my putting any theories into practice, but plans were
-maturing favourably. By gaining the lowest rocks of the north-west
-ridge, and climbing up either these or the rocks and ice of its north
-flank to the level of the terrace, a short traverse over steep ice
-would give access to the terrace itself. On account of the frequent
-stone-falls which ricochet across the barely emerging rocks of the
-north-west ridge when the sun is shining on the highest slopes of the
-mountain, this part of the climb would have to be completed during a
-cold night, before sunrise. As the ground was obviously difficult, a
-moon would be of advantage. Two-thirds of the way along the terrace,
-a large bergschrund threatened trouble, but, this overcome, there
-seemed to be nothing to prevent one’s gaining the east ridge at the
-foot of the great _gendarme_. The whole of the route along the terrace
-itself appeared to be swept by falling stones and, in its lower end,
-by falling ice; but, owing to the comparatively gentle angle of the
-terrace, I believed that stones would be held up in the snow. In 1921,
-I also crossed the Col Tournanche and from there received confirmation
-of the fact that no insurmountable obstacle barred the exit from the
-upper end of the terrace to the east ridge.
-
-[Illustration: _An ice avalanche._
-
-_The height of the cliff down which the avalanche is falling is over
-two thousand feet._
-
-  _Facing page 196._
-]
-
-Unfortunately, in 1922, being busy elsewhere, I was unable to
-return to the fray, but in 1923 the long-wished-for opportunity
-arrived. Towards the end of July, I set out on a final series of
-investigations, determined that they should lead to the conquest of
-this great north face. My friend, Raymond Peto, and I climbed the Dent
-Blanche, returning by the 1862 original route of Kennedy, leaving
-the _gendarmes_ above us, while we traversed back along the snow and
-ice-plastered slabs of the south-west face. The ascent was made with
-a twofold object: firstly, to get one more thorough insight into the
-great terrace of the Dent d’Hérens, and, secondly, to give Peto, whose
-maiden climb this was, a chance of finding his mountain legs, it being
-my intention that he should be one of my companions on the new venture.
-
-And here I may be permitted a slight digression. I have more than once
-been criticised for taking inexperienced people on difficult and what
-my critics too readily refer to as hazardous climbs. In reply, I would
-point out that a difficult enterprise is not necessarily a rash one,
-though it may well be made so if one embarks upon it without thorough
-investigation and detailed planning. If, by the simple inclusion
-of a beginner in the party, the difficult be transformed into the
-hazardous, the reflection is on the capabilities of the leader. Also,
-fifteen years of guideless climbing have taught me, _inter alia_, that
-in the mountains one must not take one’s responsibilities lightly.
-Furthermore, the inexperience of the beginner, who is physically sound
-and no coward, is a much less dangerous drawback to the leader of
-a party than the argumentative embryo-mountaineer who, after three
-or even fewer brief summer seasons spent in climbing, often only
-in a secondary capacity, imagines that the mountains hold no more
-secrets for him. To the experienced climber who feels that there is
-still something new for him to learn, I would commend the tyro as a
-companion--for his puzzled, but often fundamental questionings may
-suggest a new train of thought or throw fresh light upon what seemed
-but the obvious and commonplace.
-
-To return to our problem. From the Dent Blanche I could see that
-both the bergschrund at the foot of the north-west ridge and the
-one intersecting the snows of the great terrace were of formidable
-proportions and likely to give a great deal of trouble. Next day, by
-going up the Tête Blanche, I was able to get a better idea of the
-ground from the foot of the north-west ridge up to the terrace.
-
-On the strength of the knowledge now possessed, I drew up a provisional
-time-table. At midnight we would leave the Schönbühl hut. Going round
-the Stockje and passing through the two icefalls of the Tiefenmatten
-Glacier, we would reach the bergschrund at the foot of the north-west
-ridge not later than 3 a.m. The bergschrund and the difficult ground
-above, consisting of ice interspersed with rock, would have to be
-tackled in the moonlight, and this would give us time to gain the
-lower end of the terrace about six o’clock, before the sun’s rays had
-become powerful enough to start stones falling. All would then be plain
-sailing until about two-thirds of the way across the terrace, where
-the formidable bergschrund would have to be negotiated. Should this
-obstacle prove impassable, we could return in all haste to near the end
-of the terrace, where, in the shelter of a great ice cliff, it would be
-possible to bivouac. In the earliest hours of the following day, the
-retreat would be completed _via_ the north-west ridge and the summit.
-Should the bergschrund go, however, there would be nothing to prevent
-our gaining the east ridge.
-
-These studies of the north face of the Dent d’Hérens had entailed in
-all eight visits to the Schönbühl hut of a total duration of nearly
-six weeks. Was it time thrown away, or is not mountaineering worth the
-endeavour to make it a justified source of intellectual and physical
-training, invaluable in every phase of one’s daily life?
-
-On returning to Zermatt we were joined by Guy Forster. The functions
-of the various members of the party were easily arranged. Forster and
-I were to act as guides and Peto as porter. On July 29, Peto, bent on
-sketching, set off once more for the Schönbühl hut, and on the 30th,
-Forster and I followed with the necessary provisions, climbing irons,
-a one-hundred-foot Alpine Club rope, and a two-hundred-foot cotton
-sash-line. The latter might prove useful in the event of a forced
-retreat back to the north-west ridge and perhaps also on the terrace.
-At a few minutes past midnight we left the hut, telling the caretaker
-of our intentions. We crossed the glacier to the Stockje in the light
-of a strong moon. Just beyond the ruins of the old Stockje hut, we put
-on climbing irons and roped. The first icefall of the Tiefenmatten
-Glacier was easily overcome near the left bank. But the second, which
-experience had told me was most vulnerable on the extreme right bank,
-gave more trouble. Here, close under the Dent d’Hérens, we were in the
-shadow of the moon and had to make use of our lantern. For perhaps a
-quarter of an hour, while making our way as fast as possible up through
-a series of steep ice gullies and crevasses, we were in danger from the
-séracs perched on the great cliffs above. Once in the upper basin of
-the glacier, we ascended the slopes, bearing to our left round towards
-the foot of the north-west ridge, and eventually arrived on the lower
-lip of the bergschrund which defends the foot of the ridge. The spot
-was strange, forbidding. In the gloom, a hundred feet above us, towered
-the upper lip--inaccessible. In dark, shining patches the rocks of the
-north-west ridge showed through, pitilessly smooth and glazed with a
-thin covering of treacherous ice. To cross here was impossible, but,
-by working out into the north-west face and following the bergschrund
-to where it curves upwards almost parallel with the north-west ridge,
-we found a likely place.
-
-The first attempt to get over the bergschrund met with failure. The
-bridge selected afforded, it is true, a means of access to the slopes
-above, but I quickly discovered that it was too delicate a structure
-and preferred to go back to where we could descend a few feet on to
-some snowed-up blocks in the steeply rising schrund, whence we could
-cut up the vertical other side. I gained the upper lip, but the work
-involved was far from easy, and, before its completion, I had to retire
-for a rest while Forster improved my sketchy foot- and handholds.
-It was then that I took stock of the time: it was four o’clock; we
-were an hour too late, and there was nothing for it but to go back.
-On Forster’s return, I recommenced work on the ice steps, converting
-them into great holes which would be certain to hold out until the
-following day. This done, I informed the others of my decision, and,
-without a murmur of dissent on their part, we turned back. Instead of
-going straight down on to the glacier, however, we worked down along
-the lower lip of the bergschrund to some distance beyond the foot of
-the north-west ridge, in an endeavour to find another way across which
-would give more direct access either to the north-west ridge or to the
-slopes leading up to the lower end of the terrace. The search was vain,
-and, just as the first red rays of the morning sun touched the summit
-of the Dent d’Hérens, we fled towards the Tiefenmatten Glacier from the
-stones that were soon falling. No time was lost in hurrying through the
-upper icefall--for here safety lay in speed.
-
-That morning, in time for a belated eight o’clock breakfast, three
-dejected climbers arrived back at the Schönbühl hut to a welcoming
-chorus of “We told you so.” The one crumb of comfort was the word
-“Unmöglich,”[7] freely applied by all and sundry to the north face of
-the Dent d’Hérens!
-
-In the afternoon the weather changed for the worse. At 11.30 p.m. we
-looked out to find rain falling heavily; towards morning it actually
-snowed in the vicinity of the hut. It was not until after midday on
-August 1 that a strong north-west wind set in and swept away the
-clouds--all but the gossamer-like streamers which clung tenaciously
-to the Dent d’Hérens and the Matterhorn, and the thick banks of mist
-that sought and found refuge from the gale in the grim recesses of the
-Tiefenmatten basin. Heavy, new snow had fallen on our mountain, and
-great wisps of it were being torn up over the ridges and the slopes of
-the north face and borne away on the wind. But the weather was good;
-and the new snow, though it would undoubtedly impede us in some places,
-would hold loose stones firmly in their beds for long after sunrise and
-thus actually render our climb more safe. That night was the coldest I
-experienced in the course of the wonderful summer of 1923.
-
-At a quarter to midnight, on August 1-2, we left the Schönbühl hut. The
-moon was hidden behind the Matterhorn which was silhouetted against
-its light with almost startling clearness, and it was not until we had
-gained the moraine of the Stockje that we were able to dispense with
-the lantern. Walking rapidly and finding our way through the icefalls
-without hesitation, we arrived in the upper basin of the Tiefenmatten
-Glacier at a point below the north-west ridge, just where the slopes
-steepen up towards the bergschrund. Here, sheltered from the cold wind
-behind a huge block of fallen ice, we halted (2.30 to 3 a.m., August
-2) to adjust climbing irons, breakfast and rearrange knapsacks. I had
-the pleasure of handing mine over to Peto. We re-lighted the lantern
-and climbed up to the bergschrund, to find the steps cut two days
-before quite usable. Once over the bergschrund a steep ice slope lay
-between us and the nearest rocks of the north-west ridge, now about
-two hundred yards away. Alpine literature contains many examples of
-that looseness of description which permits the raconteur to describe
-as ice, a slope covered with inches of good firm snow. But here in
-front of us was the real thing. On warm days, water from the ice
-cliffs perched on the rocks above flows down over this slope, not in
-well-defined channels, but fanwise, so as to leave bare ice. What the
-angle of the slope is I cannot say, as I had no clinometer, but where
-we cut across, always keeping about a hundred to a hundred and fifty
-feet above the upper lip of the bergschrund, it was very steep. Higher
-up, the inclination was somewhat more gentle; but for two reasons we
-chose to cross the slope at its steepest--in the first place, fewer
-steps would bring us to the ridge, and in the second, should stray
-stones or odd blocks of ice fall in spite of the early hour and the
-intense cold, there would be much more chance of such missiles going
-over us than if we were standing on the less steep slopes higher
-up. The order of the party was as follows. I led, untrammelled by a
-knapsack, Forster came in the middle, and Peto brought up the rear. How
-Peto would manage was rather uncertain, as this was his first serious
-essay with climbing irons. Forster was to look after both my rope and
-Peto’s, and would, in the event of a slip on the part of the latter,
-have to hold him--a task of which I knew he was fully capable if only
-the steps were well-cut and reasonably large.
-
-Just as we began to cut our way across the slope, a fierce gust of wind
-blew out the candle; and henceforth, though it was still rather dark,
-for the light of the moon did not reach the secluded spot directly, we
-decided to dispense with artificial light. I cut the steps as quickly
-as possible without wastage of blows, but very carefully. Always the
-same method--left-handed cutting, for we were traversing from right
-to left; six or seven medium blows marking out the base, twice as
-many heavy blows to break down the roof of each step, half a dozen
-dragging hits to make floor and wall meet well inside, a scrape or
-two with the blade to make sure that the floor was clean and slanting
-into the slope, and another of the many steps was ready. But while I
-was steadily cutting out my first rope’s length from Forster, he and
-Peto were getting the worst of it in a heated difference of opinion
-with the lantern. Now a lantern which is not burning should be folded
-up and put away. But this particular sample proved stubborn. Peto’s
-struggles to make it behave being unavailing, he very considerately
-passed it on to Forster, by which time I was already straining at the
-rope to cut a next step. Having only two hands, both of which were
-wanted on more important business, Forster thrust the lantern between
-his teeth, came up a few steps, and so gave me sufficient rope to
-proceed. After a further desperate but vain effort to fold the lantern
-up--with the candle still in it!--and handicapped by his limited number
-of hands, he at last solved the difficulty by biting the candle in
-two, and eventually succeeded in stowing away the very refractory and
-useless article in his pocket. From then onwards we really got into
-our stride. I worked away in a perfectly straight, almost horizontal,
-line towards the rocks of the north-west ridge; my comrades moved
-one at a time, Peto evidently enjoying the slope in spite of its
-appearance--particularly formidable with darkness surrounding us and
-the ever-increasing drop beneath.
-
-It was very cold, and from time to time the fierce gusts of a fresh
-wind made us pause in our labours and crouch well down on to the slope
-to retain our balance. At a quarter past four, the last step had been
-cut, and the rocks of the north-west ridge gained at a point a little
-above the bergschrund. We immediately crossed over to the north face
-where the rocks were more broken. They were well plastered up with ice
-and snow, but nevertheless we all tucked our axes into the rope at our
-waists and, with both hands free, moved upwards at a good pace. Our
-mode of advance consisted in my going out the full sixty-foot length
-of rope between myself and Forster and finding good standing ground or
-reliable belay; whereupon the other two, moving together with the rope
-taut throughout, would climb up to me. There was much ice on the rocks,
-and everything was buried in fresh snow; but I steadfastly refrained
-from using the axe, utilising hands and fists to clear doubtful places
-and relying as much as possible on the climbing irons. To use the axe
-on this kind of ground before it is absolutely necessary invariably
-results in the loss of valuable time. We kept to the north side of the
-ridge, only twice touching the crest, and, after one and a half hours’
-climbing at full pressure, arrived at a point high up above the lower
-end of the great terrace, where a feasible way of gaining it at last
-appeared. Between the terrace and the rocks of the northern flank of
-the north-west ridge lies an immense gully, at the narrowest point of
-which we now stood. It was extremely steep, as the ice had run and
-formed a sort of bulge. Forster and Peto having stowed themselves
-firmly away on the last little island of rock, I started to cut across
-the gully. After some heavy step-cutting in extraordinarily steep ice,
-I arrived in the middle, only to see, about one hundred feet lower
-down, a better means of gaining the terrace. So I returned and, joining
-the others, descended these hundred feet and once more set out to cross
-the gully. It was not very wide, being only some eighty feet from the
-last of the rocks to the terrace itself, but the work was certainly
-hard. After about twenty minutes’ step-cutting, I found myself standing
-in the bergschrund formed by the terrace and the ice slopes above, and
-there Forster and Peto soon joined me.
-
-By following the lower lip of the bergschrund for a short distance,
-and leaving it at a point where it curved abruptly upwards, it would
-have been possible to make a horizontal traverse of about three
-hundred feet across a steep snow slope to where the terrace was more
-gently inclined. Unfortunately, owing to the state of the snow, such
-tactics could not be indulged in. The slope was heavily covered with
-an accumulation of new snow, much of which had fallen down from the
-steeper slopes above. The old snow underneath had a smooth surface and
-was hard-frozen, and the fresh snow was of that powdery, non-cohesive
-quality which already possessed the thin, dangerous, wind-formed crust
-so respected by the winter mountaineer. To traverse such a slope
-would be simply asking for trouble: there was almost certain danger
-of treading loose a snow-shield and being swept down by it across
-the terrace and over the cliffs below. The only alternative lay in
-descending for a distance of about two hundred feet and then crossing
-the slope at its very foot, where it was no longer steep, hard up
-against the lower edge of the corridor where it breaks away in the vast
-ice cliffs overhanging the Tiefenmatten Glacier. It was here that our
-spare rope proved most valuable. We cut out a large block of snow in
-the lower lip of the bergschrund and laid our doubled spare rope over
-the improvised belay. With Peto going first, we then went straight
-down the dangerous slope towards another suitable belay lying about a
-hundred feet below and consisting of a large stone which had fallen
-from the Dent d’Hérens and was now firmly embedded in the old snow.
-By means of this second belay we descended another hundred feet and
-then arrived at the very foot of the slope, where its angle eased off
-so rapidly that, in spite of the great masses of powdery snow, it was
-at last possible to cross, in safety and without fear of loosening a
-snow-shield, over to the great terrace.
-
-The angle of the ground where we now found ourselves was
-gentle--sometimes no more than 20°; but, under the threat of ice
-falling from the hanging glacier above, Forster and I urged Peto, who
-still led, to move forward with all haste until clear of the danger
-zone. At one place our way passed through an extensive field of
-ice-blocks--débris from the cliffs above. That practically the whole
-of this particular fall of ice had been arrested on the terrace will
-indicate how easy is the gradient at this point. 7.30 a.m. saw us more
-than half-way along the terrace at a point where it appears almost
-level. We were more or less directly below the summit. Close to the
-edge of the ice cliff in which the terrace breaks away, we were at last
-in perfect safety. Nothing falling from above could reach us now; for
-the gentle slopes of the terrace between us and the final wall of the
-mountain provided an efficient trap for all stones tumbling down from
-the summit rocks.
-
-It was with a sense of complete security that we sat down to another
-breakfast and to enjoy a well-earned rest; for, since crossing the
-bergschrund four and a half hours ago, we had been working at high
-pressure. The spot must be one of the wildest and most solitary in
-the Alps; behind us a rampart of precipitous cliffs, before us at our
-feet a few yards of gently sloping snow, then nothing until the eye
-rested on the Stockje, a mile and a half distant and nearly three
-thousand feet below. Several parties were toiling up the Tête Blanche,
-but halted upon hearing our exuberant yells of delight as we settled
-down to our meal. It was cold; the wind was still strong and blowing
-snow dust about, and, though all wore extra clothing and wind-proof
-overalls, we were by no means overburdened with warmth.
-
-Shortly after eight o’clock we again set off. The slopes of the
-terrace now steepened up rapidly, and soon we were once more cutting
-steps--this time in good hard snow--up to the bergschrund separating us
-from the upper end of the terrace. Just before gaining the lower lip,
-we heard the rattle of falling stones, and a generous avalanche from
-the gully between the great _gendarme_ on the east ridge and the summit
-crashed down straight towards us. During one of my reconnaissance
-trips, I had watched, through a telescope, stones falling down this
-gully and had observed that they were all caught by the lower lip of
-the schrund. Indeed, it was precisely this fact that had led me to
-the conclusion that the lower lip must protrude very much beyond the
-upper which would, therefore, form a serious barrier in our path. On
-this occasion, again, every stone of the avalanche was swallowed up by
-the bergschrund, without the slightest danger to us. As soon as all
-was quiet we resumed work and, on gaining the lower lip, moved down
-along it to the left, where it approached more under the upper lip.
-The obstacle we now faced was assuredly a difficult one. It appeared
-to me that the upper lip could be attacked, with fair prospects of
-success, at its lowest part by cutting steps up about twelve feet of
-very steep ice and then drilling one’s way through a cornice formed of
-hard-frozen snow, some three feet thick, extending from the edge of the
-upper lip. An alternative way lay in making a difficult traverse still
-farther to the left across the ice face leading to a fault or notch in
-the cornice, affording access to the slopes above. At first I chose the
-former way. Forster anchored himself well and, holding both my rope and
-Peto’s, let us across the débris-choked floor of the bergschrund to the
-foot of the steep pitch. I was soon cutting my way up this, while Peto
-held me steady so as to avoid the necessity of making handholds. Now
-out of arm’s reach, but jammed against the ice by his axe, I began to
-drill through the cornice. I succeeded in driving my axe through into
-daylight, but only after a great effort, and was forced to return for a
-rest. Forster then followed up in my steps, but, not liking the idea of
-laboriously enlarging the hole in the cornice, returned to investigate
-the possibilities of the alternative traverse to the left. For some
-distance, Peto was able to support him with his axe, but for the last
-ten or twelve feet Forster had to cut with his left hand, relying on
-his right to help him retain his balance. By a brilliant piece of
-ice work, he wormed his way through the fault in the cornice out on
-to the slopes above. As soon as he had obtained good standing ground
-and driven his axe to the head into the snow, I followed quickly, and
-together we gave Peto the necessary aid to enable him to join us.
-
-Once more I took the lead. We were now aiming straight for the
-eastern extremity of the level section of ridge lying immediately
-to the east of the great _gendarme_. Everywhere the ground was so
-steep that steps had to be cut, but four or five blows with the axe
-were always sufficient, as the snow was hard and of good quality.
-To gain the foot of the _gendarme_ over the slopes directly above
-us was out of the question on account of the impassability of an
-intervening bergschrund. Farther to the east, however, this schrund
-was well-bridged, and we crossed without difficulty. Here the snow
-changed. It was still good, but no longer so hard. Roped on to our
-two-hundred-foot length of sash-line, Forster now took the lead and
-kicked his way right up on to the ridge, while Peto and I enjoyed a
-welcome, if brief, respite from our activities. At eleven o’clock
-we were all sitting together on a great flat slab on the east ridge
-overlooking the Val Tournanche, protected from the wind and revelling
-in the warm sunshine. We had won. From here to the top was merely
-a question of time and patience. The great north face of the Dent
-d’Hérens, which had so long been spoken of as “unmöglich,” had this day
-at last suffered defeat, and many were the shouts of triumph hurled
-down at its hitherto hidden recesses. In the simple amusements so dear
-to the mountaineer, a whole hour was spent at this delightful spot.
-We ate, sunned ourselves, and drank in the beauties of the marvellous
-view. I will not expatiate thereon, but will content myself with paying
-tribute to the Matterhorn which, seen as we saw it that morning, must
-surely be the most strikingly wonderful mountain in the world.
-
-At noon, having discarded our climbing irons, we again roped, Forster
-leading, I coming as second man, and Peto, as before, bringing up the
-rear. Making our way up a steep snow ridge, followed by a vertical
-chimney--which, thanks to liberal handholds, was not difficult, though
-somewhat strenuous--we had soon covered the distance of about eighty
-feet that had separated us from the east end of the horizontal stretch
-of ridge, and now overlooked the uppermost snows of the Za-de-Zan
-Glacier, from which we were divided by less than two hundred feet of
-easy scree slopes. Early in the day we had noticed the formation of
-fish clouds, and from here saw that Mont Blanc was “smoking a pipe.”
-The weather was obviously breaking; but, provided no time was wasted,
-we counted on its holding out long enough to enable us to finish the
-ascent. The horizontal stretch of ridge, despite the fresh snow that
-was lying about, gave no serious trouble, and soon we were at the
-foot of the great _gendarme_. It was plain that the latter, even in
-the best of circumstances, would prove a stubborn customer if tackled
-directly over the ridge. For the sake of economising time, therefore,
-we moved out on to the south side, and for more than two hours were
-kept fully occupied on slabby rocks, where the handholds tended to
-slope downwards. Had the ground been dry, the climbing would probably
-have been fairly easy; but to-day ice and new snow were everywhere.
-Forster, free from the burden of his knapsack, which now graced my
-shoulders, was in his element. Our pace was not rapid, because the
-conditions rendered it advisable to move only one at a time, and the
-rock, apart from being glazed with ice, was so unreliable that great
-care was necessary. At last, shortly before drawing level with the
-summit of the _gendarme_, a scramble up some particularly nasty slabs
-brought us on to a buttress of blocks where we were able to climb
-together. Forster dashed away in great style. We regained the ridge at
-the lowest point in the slight depression that lies between the summit
-of the great _gendarme_ and that of the mountain itself. From there the
-climb along the final ridge was pure joy. Nowhere did we meet with the
-least difficulty. The rock was extremely good and wind-swept free from
-snow. The ridge was very narrow--in places even sensational. Sometimes
-it hung over to one side, sometimes to the other, and once it actually
-assumed a mushroom-like appearance and overhung on both. Our pace was
-furious, and Forster’s exclamations of delight at the splendid
-climbing quite invigorating.
-
-[Illustration: _The north face of the Dent d’Hérens, showing route
-followed._]
-
-[Illustration: _Back at the Schönbühl hut after the climb._
-
-  _Facing page 210._
-]
-
-At 3.15 p.m., fifteen and a half hours after leaving the Schönbühl hut,
-we passed over the little snow-crest which forms the summit of the
-Dent d’Hérens. We did not halt; the weather was too menacing, and it
-behoved us to get off the mountain as quickly as possible. Just beyond
-the summit, we again altered the order of the rope--Forster retained
-the lead, Peto came next, and I brought up the rear. After a short,
-easy climb down the steep but firm rocks of the little summit cliff
-overlooking the north-west face, we struck a well-trodden track in the
-scree slopes, and passing down these and two ice slopes--the first
-a short one, the second long enough to induce us to put on climbing
-irons--we reached a point on the west ridge whence a convenient descent
-could be made over broken rocks towards the Za-de-Zan Glacier. With
-the exception of one chimney, which might well have been avoided, all
-was easy going until, at the foot of the rocks, we had to descend a
-little ice slope and cross the bergschrund below it. The deep snow
-covering the ice slope was in a parlous condition, and Forster had to
-cut well into the ice beneath in order to obtain secure footing. As
-luck would have it, we chanced to strike the best place to cross the
-bergschrund; for the misty haze now obscuring the sun also hid detail
-to such an extent that, until we were actually on the bergschrund, it
-was at times hard even to detect its presence. The usual sort of little
-zig-zag manœuvre by means of which the weak points in the bergschrund’s
-defences were connected up, saw us safely over on to the soft snow
-slopes below. We had no difficulty in getting through the first small
-icefall to the Za-de-Zan Glacier, though at one place we had to descend
-into a crevasse and make our way up the other side in order to effect a
-crossing.
-
-Passing close under the Tiefenmattenjoch, a long tramp in soft, wet
-snow brought us to the edge of the lower icefall. Having been through
-this fall in 1919, I now went ahead. But, failing to keep sufficiently
-far to the left, I did not succeed in finding the quickest way through,
-with the result that, to escape from its clutches, we finally had to
-resort to the spare rope to descend a bergschrund which must have been
-nearly fifty feet high. From there onwards all was plain sailing. A
-glissade and a gentle walk over the nearly level basin of the glacier
-led to the top of the moraine, whence, free from the sodden rope,
-we plunged down towards the corner of the west ridge of the Tête de
-Valpelline, at the foot of which stands the Cabane d’Aosta. The ten
-minutes’ uphill walk to the hut was, for three weary mountaineers, as
-hard a pitch as any they had tackled that day. The hut was none too
-tidy, but we had food and, some kindly climbers having provided us
-with sufficient wood, we were able to cook quite a passable meal. The
-weather did not actually break that evening, but the whole sky was
-filled with dense masses of cloud driven up by the south wind, and we
-went to sleep expecting to have a lively time in crossing the Col de
-Valpelline on the following day.
-
-Next morning we were under way at 6 a.m., and in less than three hours
-had gained the Col de Valpelline. The sky was completely overcast,
-and all major summits were hidden in cloud, but we suffered no
-inconvenience from mist and, in under four and a half hours after
-leaving the Cabane d’Aosta, were receiving the warm congratulations of
-the Schönbühl hut caretaker, who had watched our ascent through his
-telescope with such assiduity that he had strained his right eye and
-was now in a state of perpetual wink!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[7] “Impossible.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-MONT BLANC
-
-
-Mont Blanc, 15,781 feet in height, the highest mountain in Europe,
-was almost the first of the great Alpine peaks to be climbed. On
-August 8, 1786, two Chamoniards, Dr. Paccard and Jacques Balmat,
-starting from Chamonix, made the first ascent. Forty-six years later
-Balmat was interviewed by Alexandre Dumas, who shortly afterwards
-incorporated the Chamoniard’s tale of the conquest of the great
-mountain in his _Impressions de Voyage_. And so the name of Jacques
-Balmat has come down to fame. To-day Chamonix boasts of two statues to
-his memory; while Dr. Paccard is almost forgotten. Yet recent, patient
-investigation tends to show with a fair degree of certainty that the
-leading spirit, the driving force throughout the wonderful adventure,
-was not Balmat, but Dr. Paccard.
-
-As the years passed by it became almost fashionable to climb Mont
-Blanc; and to-day the many who make the ascent for the mere sake of
-saying that they have stood on the crown of Europe, still follow the
-route of the original discoverers in most of its essential details,
-except where, in one or two cases, deviations have resulted in
-considerable improvement. The ascent of the mountain from Chamonix by
-the well-established route is nothing more than a long, uphill walk; a
-good, sound walker could go to the summit with his hands in his trouser
-pockets, should he feel so disposed. But since Paccard’s day many other
-routes have been discovered; and on all of these climbing is, at one
-stage or another, necessary. Indeed, some of these routes involve
-expeditions which rank amongst the most formidable that have ever been
-undertaken in the Alps, or, indeed, in any other mountain range.
-
-The frontier between Italy and France crosses the summit of Mont Blanc.
-From the Col de Miage over to the Col du Géant, a distance of eight
-miles, the frontier follows the watershed ridge without once falling
-below an elevation of 11,000 feet above sea-level; and two routes,
-following more or less this frontier, lead to the summit of Mont Blanc.
-From the point of view of mountaineering difficulty, neither of these
-can be compared with any of the tremendous routes by which Mont Blanc
-may be climbed from the south. Nevertheless, both are sufficiently
-difficult to safeguard one against monotony, and the scenery on both
-is superlatively wonderful. For these two reasons, Max and I chose to
-make our acquaintance with Mont Blanc by these frontier or border-line
-routes. We planned to go from Courmayeur to the Col de Miage and pass
-the night there in the little Refuge Durier. On the following day
-we would climb along the border-line, passing over the Aiguille de
-Bionnassay and the Dôme de Goûter, and spend the second night in the
-Vallot Refuge (14,350 ft.) within an hour and a half of the summit.
-Next morning we would pass over Mont Blanc and Mont Maudit, whence,
-deviating from the border-line, we would visit Mont Blanc de Tacul,
-and finally make our way across the Géant Glacier to the Col du Géant.
-Three days would elapse between our departure from Courmayeur and
-our arrival at the Rifugio Torino on the Col du Géant; but, lest bad
-weather should delay the carrying out of our projects, we bought in
-provisions for five, or at a pinch six, days. Thus our knapsacks, which
-contained in addition to the food, a cooking apparatus, camera and
-large supply of films, climbing irons and two one-hundred-foot ropes,
-were far from light.
-
-From Courmayeur the first three hours of the journey to the Col de
-Miage lead one along the carriage road and mule track which winds
-through the Val Veni round the southern foot of Mont Blanc. As mules
-are readily obtainable in Courmayeur, Max and I strolled forth
-unburdened from the village after an early lunch on August 25, 1911.
-Leaving knapsack, coats and axes to a mule-driver and his faithful
-animal, we marched gaily along the broad path with the tremendous
-cliffs and fantastic, jagged outline of the Peuteret ridge towering up
-before us, luxuriating in the freedom of shirt sleeves and the even
-more unwonted freedom of unladen shoulders, and revelling in the happy
-lot of the mountaineer. Dawdling, however, we were not permitted to
-indulge in; for the mule, like others of his species in Courmayeur,
-seemed eager to get to his journey’s end with all possible speed, and
-it was only by the simple stratagem of inviting his driver to drink a
-glass of wine at the little Cantine de la Visaille that we succeeded in
-snatching a rest.
-
-Farther on, where the immense, frontal moraine of the Miage Glacier
-advances into and, indeed, almost across the bed of the valley, the
-path steepens up; but though the mule walked as fast as ever, we
-kept pace in comfort, for the sky was rapidly becoming overcast, and
-an invigorating coolness had taken the place of the hitherto close
-and oppressive heat. Passing by the little Combal lake formed by the
-moraine damming the stream, its black, sunless waters whipped into a
-semblance of life by fitful gusts, we turned off to the right along a
-dwindling track. Here we dismissed the mule and his driver and, after
-collecting firewood for use in the hut, settled down to a meal to gain
-strength for the long walk in front of us. At 4 p.m., a few heavy
-drops of rain from the lowering sky stirred us up, and, shouldering our
-cruelly heavy and distinctly awkward burdens, we climbed up the steep
-flank of the moraine and gained the gently-rising, stone-strewn surface
-of the Miage Glacier.
-
-White wraiths of mist, sinking from the black thunder-clouds that
-overcast the sky, settled over the tops of the magnificent mountain
-walls which enclose the glacier. Our loads were oppressive, and, though
-we struggled with them to the best of our powers, our pace was slow and
-rests were frequent. At twilight, even the foot of the slopes below
-the Col de Miage were still far distant, and dense masses of cloud
-were rolling down across the col towards us. Realising what a drag our
-knapsacks were, we decided to change our plans and make for the Dôme
-instead of the Miage hut. We knew that darkness would be upon us long
-before the former were gained, but, in spite of that, we felt certain
-of being able to find it. After passing below the icefall of the Dôme
-Glacier, we turned to the right towards the foot of the Aiguilles
-Grises ridge. An inky blackness had already blotted out all surrounding
-details before the rocks were reached; but, on lighting the lantern, we
-were delighted to find a well-marked track leading up in the desired
-direction over steep screes. We were now really tired, and halts to
-relieve our shoulders from the depressing weight of the knapsacks were
-frequent. During such enforced respites from our labours we consulted
-the map and were able to form a fairly good idea as to where to look
-for the hut. At ten o’clock, just before the thunderstorm burst, we
-found it at last, though not without some searching.
-
-Though tired, we were ravenously hungry, and had energy enough to
-prepare a good, square meal. Through the little window we saw frequent
-lightning flashes, and the sharp crack that followed within a fraction
-of a second of each flare told us that we were very near the centre
-of the storm. After dinner we ventured without to see what were the
-prospects for the morrow. Snow was falling, and the atmosphere was
-charged with electricity. Holding up my hand and spreading out the
-fingers resulted in a curious noise as of the tearing of linen, and,
-in the darkness, from each finger-tip issued a blue stream of light.
-The chimney pipe of the little hut stove was thrown into relief by an
-aureole of bluish light, especially intense at the top. It was evident
-that the storm had come to stay for the night at least, and that, with
-snow falling at its present rate, there was little chance of being able
-to continue the climb next morning. I must confess that the prospect of
-a day’s rest was anything but displeasing.
-
-The sun was high in the heavens when we awoke on the morning of the
-26th. The weather was perfect. All signs of the storm had been swept
-away, except for the abundance of new snow which, on the rocks round
-the hut, was already yielding to the warm rays. Mont Blanc, a mountain
-of quite different aspect on this southern side, is built up of great
-rock buttresses, separated from each other by steep and narrow glaciers
-which frequently break into formidable icefalls. Our original plan of
-following the border-line from the Col de Miage we had naturally set
-aside, but from the scenic point of view we did not expect the route
-now proposed, _via_ the Aiguilles Grises to the Col de Bionnassay and
-thence along the border-line, to be one whit inferior. The afternoon
-and evening of that welcome rest day were mostly spent in consuming
-our supplies of firewood and demolishing all the weightier articles of
-food. In those days Max and I were unduly addicted to the delights of
-tinned peaches!
-
-By three o’clock next morning we had breakfasted and were preparing to
-leave the hut. Wearing climbing irons and roped together, we crossed
-over a snow slope and gained the Dôme Glacier. As our destination that
-day was the Vallot Refuge, only some three thousand feet higher up,
-there was no call for hurry. This was a blessing, for, though we had
-done our best to cut down the weight, the knapsacks were still much
-heavier than one is wont to carry on a long climb of this nature.
-Early in the year the ascent of the Dôme Glacier is usually devoid of
-difficulty; but towards the end of the climbing season one’s progress
-is likely to be somewhat hampered by huge and inadequately bridged
-crevasses. In 1911, however, despite the fact that the summer had
-been so hot and fine, we nowhere met with serious obstacles, though
-occasionally a more than ordinarily large crevasse demanded a little
-thought and care before it could be successfully negotiated. At sunrise
-we had gained the uppermost basin of the Dôme Glacier, and, turning
-round to the left, we cut steps up a steep ice slope, eventually
-climbing the rocks of the Aiguilles Grises ridge to the south of the
-highest point on the ridge. The rock was good, and we topped the
-highest Aiguille at 7 a.m. The day was wonderfully clear and free from
-haze, so that we could look right out into the lowlands of Savoy. The
-Aiguilles de Trélatête, which rank amongst the most beautiful mountains
-in the Alps, stood boldly up to the south. A north breeze, bringer of
-settled weather, blew with somewhat chilly force and hunted us forth.
-
-[Illustration: _Mont Blanc from the Dôme hut._
-
-“... great rock buttresses separated by steep glaciers.”
-
-  _Facing page 218._
-]
-
-From the Aiguilles Grises we walked in comfort along a broad, almost
-level snow ridge, which later became more narrow and inclined until,
-just before reaching the point where it meets the border-line ridge,
-it was so steep that the use of the axe was necessary. Once on the
-border-line, a wonderful vista down into the Bionnassay Valley
-opened out. The ridge was narrow and often corniced, but free from
-difficulty. Soon it steepened and broadened out and wore a thick
-covering of fresh snow through which we toiled knee-deep. To the right
-of the ridge the snow was in bad condition, and any attempt to stamp
-out steps started avalanches which slid with hissing sound down to the
-Dôme Glacier below. Therefore, we kept either to the left of the ridge
-or on the crest itself, where progress was simple, if laborious and
-thirsty. The loss of moisture by profuse perspiration, however, was
-readily compensated for by eating snow--an excellent means of assuaging
-thirst. At length the ridge was transformed into a great plateau, over
-which we gained the summit of the Dôme de Goûter and looked down into
-the Chamonix Valley. In accordance with our usual custom, we fed, and
-then, spreading out our belongings in a wind-sheltered spot on the
-snow, lay down on them and went to sleep in the warm sun.
-
-At midday we packed up and descended a gentle snow slope to the Col de
-Goûter, where the well-trodden track of the ordinary Chamonix route
-was joined. A little later we arrived at the Vallot Refuge. The Vallot
-Refuge stands at an altitude of about 14,350 feet above sea-level on a
-tiny island of rock cropping out from a vast surrounding wilderness of
-ice and snow. It consists of a little wooden hut divided into the two
-compartments that fulfil the simple requirements of the mountaineer,
-namely a “kitchen” and a “bedroom.” It was in a bad state of repair;
-the wind whistled through numerous cracks in walls and roof; and the
-door was too damaged to permit of its being closed, so that quantities
-of snow had drifted within and the floor was deeply covered with ice.
-The stove was degenerate and useless; the blankets were full of ice
-and fouled with the filth and offal that likewise covered the floor
-and formed the contents of the only saucepan which the hut boasted. It
-was altogether a disgusting state of affairs, and, as we were to pass
-the night here, Max and I set about making our quarters habitable.
-Blankets were thoroughly shaken and spread out in the sun and wind.
-With our axes, the snow and refuse was scraped out and the ice chipped
-away from the floor. Some of the worst cracks and holes in the wall we
-stopped with snow. Two hours’ hard work wrought some slight change, and
-the hut looked tidier and more wholesome. Since then, I have been, in
-all, five times at the Vallot Refuge. On each occasion it bore a closer
-resemblance to a pigsty than a place designed for human habitation.
-There is, as far as I can see, no excuse for this. Climbers using
-the refuge should have no difficulty in leaving it in a presentable
-condition. As it is, its usual loathsome state bears eloquent testimony
-to the all-round inferiority of many of those who climb Mont Blanc from
-Chamonix. To leave mountain huts and refuges clean and tidy is the
-duty of all guides; but the onus of seeing that this duty is properly
-performed rests with their employers. The ultra-fashionable world that
-nowadays throngs Chamonix and “climbs” Mont Blanc simply because it is
-“done” apparently leaves all sense of duty and propriety far below the
-snow-line.
-
-It was past 3 p.m. before we were satisfied with the result of our
-labours, and from then until sunset a succession of meals--lunch, tea
-and dinner--was prepared on our little spirit cooker. All water had, of
-course, to be obtained by melting snow; but this had been anticipated,
-and our supplies of methylated spirit were ample. The breeze dropped as
-the afternoon wore on, and at times we felt almost hot as we sat in the
-sun in front of the refuge.
-
-Bedtime came with the sharp night chill that follows the setting of
-the sun. There were plenty of blankets, now dry and comparatively
-clean, to keep us warm, and we slept well; only occasionally awakening
-at the sound of the wind as it whistled through the chinks and shrieked
-past the walls of the refuge. Next morning, at 5 a.m., we started to
-dress, that is, to put on our boots. This took some time as the uppers
-were frozen stiff and had to be nursed against our chests until they
-were sufficiently pliable. Breakfast was not a success, at least in
-so far as cooking operations were concerned. During the night, snow
-dust had been blown into the spirit-burner which, inside the draughty
-hut, had no chance to burn itself dry. In the end we made shift with
-raw bacon fat, bread and jam, and munched snow in lieu of drinking
-coffee or tea. At 6.30, having folded up the blankets and cleared up
-generally, we put on the rope and climbing irons and moved off.
-
-A deep-trodden track in the snow, the trail of fashion, led up easy
-slopes on to the crest of the border-line ridge. Always keeping to the
-ridge and walking at a good, steady pace, we continued our uneventful
-journey. No miseries of mountain sickness such as so often attacked
-the early climbers of Mont Blanc, and to which many still seem to
-succumb, disturbed the monotony; no blood gushed forth from our ears,
-nor did we even suffer from lack of breath. Before 8 a.m. we stood
-on the summit (15,781 ft.). The little refuge erected here a year
-or two previously was all but buried beneath the snow; part of the
-roof and a chimney alone remained visible.[8] The day was perfect,
-cloudless and exceptionally clear. There is, amongst its neighbouring
-mountains, none to challenge the superiority of Mont Blanc. From its
-summit one looks down upon Europe, hill and plain. The sea of ice-clad
-peaks surrounding it are so much lower or so far off that they appear
-immeasurably below one. Whilst engaging in the delightful pastime of
-recognising old mountain friends in the distant ranges, we brought
-the spirit cooker into action and prepared a belated brew of tea. The
-match with which we lighted our cigarettes needed no shielding, and
-its faint blue smoke drifted lazily skywards, so still was the air as
-we sat and basked in the warm morning sunshine. Such was our first
-kindly reception by Mont Blanc. Since then I have stood four times on
-the summit; twice surrounded by cold, clammy mists, once chilled to the
-marrow by a fierce north-west wind, and once to be driven down fighting
-for foothold in the teeth of a snowstorm such as is seldom experienced
-in the Alps.
-
-Our stay on the summit lasted but an hour, for the major portion of
-the day’s work, namely the descent _via_ Mont Maudit and Mont Blanc
-de Tacul, lay in front of us. With France on our left and the great
-precipices of the Brenva falling away to Italy on the right, we
-descended the hard-frozen snow of the broad ridge. Passing a little
-outcrop of rock, now plastered up with wind-driven snow, we arrived at
-the top of a rather steep ice slope--the Mur de la Côte. One of the
-worst accidents in the history of mountaineering occurred not far from
-here in September, 1870. Eleven people were caught by a snowstorm.
-Instead of fighting their way out of its clutches, they sat down to
-wait until it passed. All were frozen to death. In a snowstorm on the
-mountains, as in war, safety lies in action. It is far better to do
-something, even if it be the wrong thing, than do nothing but sit and
-wait.
-
-With our sharp, long-pointed climbing irons, the Mur de la Côte was
-descended without the cutting of more than a few steps. Below it, easy
-snow slopes led down to the Col de la Brenva, the broad depression
-between Mont Blanc and Mont Maudit. Beyond this, a succession of
-trackless snow fields and slopes, sometimes almost level, at other
-times fairly steep but never steep enough to demand the use of the
-axe, provided such easy going that we were able to devote much of our
-attention to the beauty of the surroundings. A pathway fit for the
-gods, this wonderful border-line ridge whence the eye may travel beyond
-the snow-free mountains of Savoy to the rolling blue hills of the
-Jura, or up the tremendous ramparts of the Brenva face and along the
-magnificent sweep of the Peuteret ridge to the heavily corniced summit
-of Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. We paid but a brief visit to Mont Maudit
-(14,669 ft.), a little rock pinnacle just emerging from the snow; and,
-after a glance over the great precipices above the Brenva Glacier, we
-turned down the snowy ridge which falls away to Chamonix, to seek a
-means of descent into the depression between Mont Maudit and Mont Blanc
-de Tacul. At first the ridge was a slender snowy crest on which the
-snow was in splendid condition, but later the rocks emerged. As these
-were good and never difficult, we were once again, while climbing, able
-to devote much of our attention to the view. Mont Blanc showed up to
-wonderful advantage, an enormous snowy dome, the brilliance of its wide
-flanks almost entirely unrelieved by the darkness of rock. Far below
-lay the valley of Chamonix, its detail filtered softly through the
-grey-blue haze of a fine summer’s day. Beyond the Buet and the lesser
-mountains of Savoy, the gaze roved over a purple mistiness shrouding
-the Lake of Geneva, to the sombre wooded curves of the Jura. On our
-right were the tapering spires of the Chamonix Aiguilles and the wider
-snows of Mont Blanc de Tacul, our next objective.
-
-After descending the ridge for some considerable length, a fairly
-broad, snowy saddle, the Col Maudit, was reached. To the right a
-rather steep, but to all appearances short, ice slope fell away
-towards crevassed snow slopes, down which we felt sure of finding a
-convenient way. After once more donning climbing irons--for they had
-been taken off on gaining the summit of Mont Maudit--Max took charge
-of my knapsack, while I set to work to cut the necessary steps down
-the slope. The ice rapidly steepened but merged into snow, too hard
-to kick steps in, but ready to yield a secure step for two, or at the
-most three, blows of the axe. Noticing that the slope did not run out
-directly into the snowfields below, we suspected the presence of an
-intervening bergschrund of more than ordinary proportions. Our surmise
-proved only too true. Within a quarter of an hour of leaving the Col
-Maudit, we foregathered in a large step hewn out just above the upper
-lip of a great bergschrund which gaped to right and left with never a
-sign of a snow bridge within reach. The lower lip was at least fifteen
-feet below where we stood, but as the schrund seemed to be at its
-narrowest here, it was obviously the most suitable place to effect a
-passage. Three ways of doing this suggested themselves: to jump down
-the fifteen feet, to cut out a belay in the snow and rope down, or to
-use one of our axes as a belay. On reconsideration, the second and
-third courses were discarded; the one because it was getting late in
-the day and the time necessary to hew out a suitable belay would be
-considerable; the other because it would mean the sacrifice of an axe.
-So we decided to jump. Leaving my axe and climbing irons with Max, I
-screwed up my courage and leapt wildly out into space, to strike with
-my feet into the deep, soft snow below the bergschrund with such force
-that I was almost submerged, and snow found its way into my clothing
-in a most disconcerting fashion. Then came Max’s turn. He first threw
-down the axes, climbing irons and other paraphernalia. Then, while
-I trained the camera on him, he jumped and landed with such a thud
-that he likewise was almost buried in the powdery snow. After a rest
-and a meal to soothe shattered nerves, we gathered up our belongings
-and commenced stamping down towards Mont Blanc de Tacul. Crevasses
-and ice cliffs enforced a zig-zag course and deep snow made the work
-toilsome, but we forged steadily ahead, leaving a deeply-furrowed trail
-in our wake. Passing beyond the depression between Mont Maudit and our
-objective, we finally mounted up gentle snow slopes and a few simple
-rocks to the summit of Mont Blanc de Tacul (13,941 ft.), and thus
-gained our third mountain-top for the day. The view from here was one
-of the most striking of the marvellous series of changing panoramas
-which marked this trip. The great rocky buttresses and escarpments of
-the precipitous south face of Mont Maudit, seamed with appallingly
-steep ice-filled gullies, the shimmering ice cliffs of the Brenva face
-of Mont Blanc, and the bold yet almost unearthly graceful outline of
-the Peuteret ridge formed a peerless picture of nobility and majesty.
-
-[Illustration: _Descending Mont Maudit._
-
-“... a slender snowy crest.”]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Aiguille Noire de
-  Peuteret._
-
-  _Dames
-  Anglaise._
-
-  _Aiguille Blanche
-  de Peuteret._
-
-  _Col de Peuteret._
-
-  _Mont Blanc de
-  Courmayeur._
-
-  _Mont Blanc._
-
-_The Peuteret ridge from the Col du Géant._
-
-  _Facing page 224._
-]
-
-It was two o’clock. To judge from what could be seen of the snow
-slopes leading down to the Col du Midi, where we intended to spend the
-night, no serious difficulty appeared to be in store for us. We had,
-therefore, time to spare; so, while the spirit cooker did its work,
-we dozed and sunned ourselves on the sun-warmed rocks of the summit.
-At 4 p.m., though loth to leave, we packed up and tramped off in the
-direction of the Aiguille du Midi. The slopes became steeper and were
-covered with great quantities of fresh snow. Here and there a crevasse
-or minor bergschrund had to be negotiated, but all went well. We had
-descended a considerable distance, and could already overlook the
-greater part of the easy, almost uncrevassed slopes leading into the
-Col du Midi, when an immense bergschrund pulled us up short. The upper
-lip was fully fifty feet above the lower. Tracks leading up to, and
-then retreating from, the lower lip were visible. A party of climbers
-had evidently quite recently sallied forth from the Col du Midi to
-climb Mont Blanc, but had been repelled by the formidable obstacle
-which was now causing us no little concern. A search to the left
-revealed nothing of value. To work out to the right would entail much,
-and perhaps purposeless, step-cutting. So, without more ado, we hewed
-out a huge step as close to the upper lip of the schrund as possible,
-cleared away the snow from a suitable spot, and worked away at the
-ice underneath until a great projecting block had been formed. Over
-this improvised belay we laid the middle of the only spare rope, and
-shinned down it. With this the last of the difficulties was overcome.
-We plunged knee-deep down gently inclined slopes, whose snows, almost
-unbroken by chasms, waxed softer and wetter as the Col du Midi was
-approached; and at 6 p.m. we were shaking free from dust and filth the
-torn remnants of what had once been blankets in the little Col du Midi
-refuge.
-
-Next day, after discovering a new and rather difficult route up the
-Aiguille du Midi (12,608 ft.), we tramped wearily across the vast,
-white expanse of the Géant Glacier to the Rifugio Torino. There we
-saw the first human being we had set eyes upon since bidding “adieu”
-to our mule-driver on the Miage Glacier. For five whole days we had
-roamed over the lonely snows of Mont Blanc without meeting a single
-fellow-creature. In our daily life we jostle each other cheek by jowl;
-and sometimes it is good to be alone.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[8] To-day (1924) no building or structure of any kind mars the
-sweeping majesty of Mont Blanc’s snowy dome.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-MONT BLANC FROM THE SOUTH
-
-
-It is a curious fact that, to this day, the southern slopes of Mont
-Blanc rank amongst the least frequented districts of the Alps. Mr.
-James Eccles who, with Michel and Alphonse Payot, first climbed Mont
-Blanc from the south, over forty-four years ago, remarked in a paper
-read before the Alpine Club, “It is singular that, notwithstanding
-their close proximity to a good mountaineering centre, the glaciers
-of the south-western end of Mont Blanc have been, compared with other
-parts of the chain, so neglected by Alpine climbers.” Of the Brouillard
-and Fresnay Glaciers, the serious explorers of which may almost be
-counted on one’s fingers, Eccles’s words still hold good.
-
-In its general outline, the geography of the southern slopes of Mont
-Blanc is simple enough. The western and eastern boundaries are,
-respectively, the Brouillard and Peuteret ridges, which converge in
-Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. The region enclosed by these two colossal
-ridges is bisected by the Innominata ridge, on either side of which a
-glacier flows down from Mont Blanc; the Brouillard Glacier between the
-ridge of the same name and the Innominata ridge, the Fresnay Glacier
-between the latter and the Peuteret ridge. Both glaciers are remarkable
-for their steepness and the extent to which they are broken up. From
-source to snout, the Brouillard Glacier forms an almost uninterrupted
-icefall, the Fresnay Glacier even more so: indeed, from afar the
-latter resembles the tumbling, foaming crest of a storm-tossed wave.
-To the south of the Innominata lies a third glacier, the Glacier du
-Châtelet, but compared with the other two, it is insignificant in size
-and gentle in slope. All three ridges rise from the Val Veni in the
-form of great bluffs and cliffs. These, in the case of the Brouillard,
-soon narrow down to a well-defined ridge which, unbroken by any really
-prominent feature, rises steadily up to the two summits of Mont
-Brouillard (13,012 and 13,298 feet respectively). A gentle dip leads
-farther to the snowy Col Émile Rey (13,147 ft.), out of which steep
-cliffs, constituting a somewhat badly-defined ridge, swing themselves
-up to the Pic Luigi Amadeo (14,672 ft.), whence a long ridge rising at
-a comparatively gentle angle culminates in Mont Blanc de Courmayeur
-(15,604 ft.). From beginning to end, the Brouillard ridge forms a vast
-crescent; curving north-north-west in its lower half, it veers towards
-the north-north-east in its upper, and terminates almost due north of
-its source in the Val Veni. The precipitous, rocky south-eastern flank
-of the ridge between the Pic Luigi Amadeo and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur
-constitutes the uppermost portion of the south face of Mont Blanc.
-
-Totally different in character is the Peuteret ridge once it has become
-well-defined as such in the vicinity of the summit of the Aiguille
-Noire de Peuteret, where the two ridges enclosing the Fauteuil des
-Allemands converge. Following a north-westerly direction, the Peuteret
-ridge carries two outstanding elevations, the Aiguilles Noire and
-Blanche de Peuteret, which are separated from neighbouring portions of
-the ridge by the deep clefts of the Col des Dames Anglaises and the Col
-de Peuteret respectively. Out of the former tower the bold spires of
-the Dames Anglaises, enhancing the jagged outline characteristic of the
-ridge which, from the Col de Peuteret, in a final stupendous effort,
-soars up to Mont Blanc de Courmayeur.
-
-[Illustration: _Mont Blanc from the Val Veni._
-
-  _Facing page 228._
-]
-
-In the Aiguille du Châtelet (8,292 ft.) the Innominata ridge at first
-makes rather a pusillanimous attempt to merit the description, then
-becomes lost in broad scree slopes from which emerge two ridges. One
-of these flanks the Brouillard Glacier, the other the Fresnay Glacier,
-and carries the Aiguille Joseph Croux and the depression called the
-Col de l’Innominata. At a point south of the Innominata itself, these
-two ridges finally unite, enclosing between their southern flanks
-the little Glacier du Châtelet. North of the Innominata, the ridge,
-running almost parallel to the Peuteret, dips into the depression
-known as the Col du Fresnay. Above the col it rises to a rocky summit
-over 13,000 feet high and called Pic Eccles, beyond which lies another
-depression, now known as the Col Supérieur du Fresnay, whence, in a
-futile attempt to connect with the Brouillard ridge, it rises abruptly
-in the direction of a point almost midway between the Pic Luigi Amadeo
-and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur and, after a last supreme endeavour to
-preserve its individuality in the shape of a huge, precipitous, red
-rock buttress, eventually loses itself in the rocky escarpments of the
-south face of Mont Blanc at an altitude of about 14,500 feet.
-
-In so far as successful attempts to reach the summit of the mountain
-are concerned, the history of the exploration of the south face of
-Mont Blanc is soon told. Prior to 1919, only two parties met with
-success. On July 30, 1876, Mr. James Eccles, accompanied by the guides
-Michel and Alphonse Payot, left Courmayeur and bivouacked on the rocks
-of the Innominata ridge, about midway between the Col du Fresnay and
-the Pic Eccles, at about 12,500 feet. Leaving their bivouac at 2.55
-next morning, they traversed the Pic Eccles into the Col Supérieur
-du Fresnay, whence, descending steep rocks and an ice-filled couloir,
-they gained the uppermost level of the Fresnay Glacier. Three hours
-after leaving their bivouac, they crossed the bergschrund and began
-the ascent of the steep slopes of the great snowy couloir, which falls
-away towards the Fresnay Glacier from a point on the Peuteret ridge
-about 1,200 feet below Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. Taking to the broken
-rocks on the left (ascending) bank of the couloir as soon as possible,
-they followed these without difficulty to their end. Another bout of
-step-cutting then brought them out on to the Peuteret ridge, up which
-they arrived on to the summit of Mont Blanc de Courmayeur at 11.40 a.m.
-At 12.35 p.m., less than ten hours after leaving their bivouac, Mont
-Blanc itself was under foot.
-
-The only other successful expedition carried out before 1919 was that
-of Signor Gruber, with Émile Rey[9] and the porter Pierre Revel, in
-1880. Leaving Courmayeur on August 14, they bivouacked on some rocks
-near the Col du Fresnay. Crossing the col next morning, they descended
-to the Fresnay Glacier and worked towards the foot of the great rock
-buttress immediately between the huge uppermost icefall of the glacier
-and the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret. Late that afternoon, after most
-difficult climbing, they arrived in the Col de Peuteret, and thence
-followed the Peuteret ridge until nightfall compelled them to bivouac
-a second time. They were then about 1,200 feet below the summit. Next
-day (August 16), always keeping to the Peuteret ridge and very soon
-joining Eccles’s route, they passed over Mont Blanc de Courmayeur and,
-four hours after leaving their last bivouac, stood on the summit of
-Mont Blanc.[10] This climb is usually referred to as if it were merely
-a variation of Eccles’s route. It is true that they have in common the
-ascent to the Col du Fresnay and the final 1,200 feet of the Peuteret
-ridge, but otherwise the two routes differ to such an extent that
-Gruber’s is worthy of being described as a new climb, and it was,
-moreover, the first complete ascent of the Peuteret ridge, from the Col
-de Peuteret.
-
-For the next thirty-nine years the gaunt ramparts of the southern flank
-of Mont Blanc effectively repelled all further assault. It seemed
-almost as if the great white mountain had found fresh strength in the
-defeats suffered through the hard-won victories of Eccles and Gruber.
-It was not that Mont Blanc, during this long interval, remained a
-victor through lack of would-be conquerors. All who came were firmly
-repulsed. The more fortunate escaped whole in life and limb; from
-others the death-toll was ruthlessly exacted.[11]
-
-The spell was finally broken in 1919. On August 20, Messrs. Oliver
-and Courtauld, with Adolfe and Henri Rey[12] and Adolf Aufdenblatten,
-bivouacked in the Col du Fresnay. The following day they traversed
-round the Pic Eccles, close below its summit, and gained the Col
-Supérieur du Fresnay, whence they followed the continuation of the
-Innominata ridge until, driven over to the left by the vertical, smooth
-rocks of its great final buttress, they were forced to climb the rocks
-of the south flank of the uppermost Brouillard ridge. This they gained
-at a point between the Pic Luigi Amadeo and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur,
-but rather nearer the latter. In little over eight hours after leaving
-their bivouac, they arrived on the summit of Mont Blanc, having thus
-opened a third route from the south.
-
-Early in August, 1921, the fourth successful ascent was effected by
-the famous Italian mountaineers Si. G. F. and G. B. Gugliermina and
-Francisco Ravelli--names for ever entwined with the history of Mont
-Blanc--and a porter from Courmayeur. They followed in its essentials
-the route of Messrs. Oliver and Courtauld. Their first bivouac was in
-the rocks of the Innominata below the Col du Fresnay, their second at
-the foot of the final great buttress of the Innominata ridge, while, on
-the descent, a third night was spent in the Vallot hut.
-
-Towards the end of July, 1921, I found myself in Zermatt, without a
-climbing companion--a lamentable state of affairs, due to trouble
-in Ireland preventing Forster from joining me as had been arranged.
-When Oliver and Courtauld arrived with the two Aufdenblattens after a
-successful traverse of the Dom from Saas, I was therefore more than
-pleased by their kind invitation to join their party. Theoretically, of
-course, I had no right to accept this, because I was out of training
-and had done nothing beyond walking half-way up to the Schwarzsee.
-
-Getting into training seems to be a spectre which looms large in the
-minds of most climbers of to-day. Often I feel impelled to think that,
-at all events from the physical point of view and as far as more
-youthful climbers are concerned, this fantastic mental conception must
-be, to a great extent, the result of auto-suggestion. In spite of a
-sedentary occupation, wholly unrelieved by any active form of sport,
-I am always ready to start climbing by climbing, and not by indulging
-in a ramble. In this instance, moreover, the immediate programme in
-view was not too ambitious, our aim being merely to get, somehow or
-other, to Breuil. The Col Tournanche was chosen as a pass for the sake
-of its novelty, none of us having previously crossed it. Arrived in
-Breuil, Oliver and Courtauld went on to Courmayeur, whilst I returned
-to Zermatt to bring my luggage round to Courmayeur by rail. A few days
-later, we were together on the Aiguille de Tronchey, with a keen eye
-to possibilities of a new route up the Grandes Jorasses. The great
-south ridge of the latter, however, showed no breach in its formidable
-defences, but the Peuteret ridge of Mont Blanc appeared to be in such a
-first-rate condition that, could it but be gained from the Brouillard
-and Fresnay side, it would almost certainly “go.” Talking matters over
-on our return to Courmayeur, we decided to repeat Eccles’s route. The
-ascent of the Peuteret ridge via the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret was
-ruled out on account of the dangerous condition of the Brenva Glacier
-and of the Aiguille Blanche itself--a condition due to the huge fall of
-rock and ice in November, 1920.
-
-On the following day, from a point in the road near the second refuge
-on the Italian side of the Petit St. Bernard, I carefully examined
-the south flank of Mont Blanc. The descent from the Col Supérieur du
-Fresnay on to the upper basin of the Fresnay Glacier seemed feasible,
-but the bergschrund below Eccles’s great couloir leading up to the
-Peuteret ridge appeared most formidable. The rocks showing through
-both to the left and the right of the Peuteret ridge, however, seemed
-to be as free from snow and ice as they were ever likely to be, while
-the ridge itself appeared to carry good snow.
-
-On August 7, we left Courmayeur with four porters and two carriages
-bearing our kit, Oliver, Courtauld, and myself as far as the Alpe
-du Fresnay, shortly after leaving which we encountered our first
-difficulty in the shape of the unfordable torrent descending from the
-Fresnay Glacier. By means of two felled trees discovered in a wood
-near by, we improvised a somewhat unstable bridge which most of us
-preferred to cross on all fours. Alfred Aufdenblatten boldly essayed
-to walk across, but not knowing the secret of keeping his eyes fixed
-on the bridge instead of on the water, lost his balance and only saved
-himself by a wild jump which barely landed him on the far bank. Towards
-nightfall we gained the new Gamba hut, situated on the Innominata ridge
-a little above the Aiguille du Châtelet.[13]
-
-Next morning we left shortly after daybreak, ascending over the
-débris-strewn slopes towards the moraine on the left bank of the
-Brouillard Glacier and took to this glacier at an altitude of about
-9,500 feet, at the point where the moraine ends and the rocks steepen
-up towards the Innominata. The work in front of us now changed
-completely in character. Ropes and climbing irons were put on; Adolf
-and Courtauld took the lead; Oliver, Alfred, and I formed the second
-party; while the porters, roped together two by two, brought up the
-rear-guard of our little army.
-
-Our labours began at once. Huge crevasses, the upper lips of which
-were often disconcertingly high above the lower, soon forced us out
-towards the middle of the glacier, where constant step-cutting was the
-rule. Progressing very rapidly, Adolf cut small steps, upon which we
-improved, so as to make things easier for the heavily-burdened porters.
-After much twisting and turning and some pretty ice work, we reached a
-small plateau where the Brouillard Glacier makes an heroic but rather
-unavailing effort to be level, prior to indulging in a mad tumble over
-a noisy “Heisse Platte.”[14] Here a half-hour halt was called for
-breakfast. We could now see right up to the head of the glacier, and
-Oliver pointed out to me the line of their ascent of 1919.
-
-The choice of either of two ways up to the Col du Fresnay now lay
-before us. We could follow the glacier, keeping more or less in
-the middle, or else traverse high up to the right across steep ice
-slopes leading down from the ridge of the Innominata. The latter
-route bore unmistakable evidence of having been recently swept by
-falling stones; débris on the glacier, however, testified even more
-generously to the fact that ice also falls, and, in addition, we
-could detect an abundance of bridgeless crevasses. We therefore chose
-honest step-cutting across the steep ice slopes. All set to work with
-a will, and progress was rapid. Dangers and difficulties ceased at a
-point somewhat below, and to the west of, the Col du Fresnay, where
-the glacier once more interrupts its headlong course to the valley by
-indulging in a small snowfield of moderate incline. No difficulty was
-offered by the final bergschrund below the col, into which we stepped
-at 10 a.m., nearly five hours after leaving the hut.
-
-The Col du Fresnay is a striking view point from which the Innominata
-and the Aiguille Noire de Peuteret both show to extraordinary
-advantage. The descent from the col on to the Fresnay glacier does not
-appear to be difficult, although the rocks are sometimes steep and
-certainly rather rotten.
-
-After a rest of an hour and a half we once more got under way and,
-climbing up the ridge in the direction of the Pic Eccles, mounted
-over a short pitch of steep rock followed by an ice slope where heavy
-step-cutting was essential. This slope landed us on another diminutive
-snowy plateau, over which we made our way in the direction of the
-spur of rocks forming the west ridge of the Pic Eccles, and on which,
-after crossing a bergschrund and cutting up an ice slope, we effected
-a lodgment. Just as my party gained the rocks, a loud clattering was
-heard from the slopes of Mont Brouillard. Quickly pulling out my camera
-from my coat pocket, I was in good time to take a photograph of one of
-the most gigantic stone-falls I have ever seen. For several minutes
-dense clouds of stone dust hung over the track of the avalanche, while
-many large blocks swept over the Brouillard Glacier, right across the
-line of ascent followed by the brothers Gugliermina on the occasion of
-their memorable crossing of the Col Émile Rey.
-
-After a brief halt, for the porters to close up, we commenced our
-assault on the rocks ahead. The climbing, though occasionally very
-steep, was not particularly difficult, despite the treacherous nature
-of the rock and the downward slope of its stratification. Incidentally,
-it may be remarked that, though unreliable, the rocks of the Pic
-Eccles were certainly the best encountered during the expedition.
-Taking the utmost care to avoid dislodging loose stones, which were
-sometimes of formidable size, we made our way up towards the summit of
-the Pic. When still some distance below it, however, Adolf led out to
-the left on the Brouillard side, and after some healthy passages across
-ice-filled gullies, we arrived in the Col Supérieur du Fresnay, without
-having actually passed over the top of the peak. The rocks on the Mont
-Blanc side of the col were gained at 2.30 p.m., and the several members
-of the party proceeded to select their couches for the night. It had
-been arranged that at this point two of the porters should return to
-the Gamba hut, but beyond depositing their loads, they made no attempt
-to move; indeed, they even threw out hints about preferring to stay
-with us till the following day. The polyglot imaginative eloquence of
-Adolf, however, soon persuaded them of the supreme folly of shivering
-in a bivouac when the seductive warmth and shelter of the hut were
-awaiting them. Their two companions were provided with blankets, as
-they were to remain the night and take down the sleeping-bags and
-excess kit on the morrow.
-
-[Illustration: _The Innominata from the Col du Fresnay._
-
-  _Facing page 236._
-]
-
-The Col Supérieur du Fresnay consists of a narrow snow ridge sloping
-off abruptly on one side to the Brouillard, and on the other to the
-Fresnay Glacier. To the east, beyond the Col Émile Rey we could see a
-snow summit, probably one of the summits of the Aiguilles de Trélatête.
-The height of our bivouac, therefore, must have been about 13,200 feet.
-The great south face of Mont Blanc falls away from the Brouillard ridge
-above, in slopes of broken rocks which finally merge into enormously
-steep, slabby precipices abutting on the Brouillard Glacier. The eye
-could follow the course of this glacier almost throughout its length.
-It is so grotesquely broken up that one wonders that it is possible
-to thread it. The uppermost basin, still untrodden, I believe, by
-human foot, and forming a little, almost level snowfield, is isolated
-by one or two formidable crevasses which cut right across the glacier
-from side to side. The west face of the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret,
-composed almost wholly of dark grey rock unrelieved by scarcely a
-single speck of snow, looks practically inaccessible. The route of
-the late H. O. Jones,[15] led by Laurent Croux, looks difficult and
-desperately dangerous from falling stones. Formerly, the Col de
-Peuteret was, so Oliver tells me, a snow-saddle from which either the
-Peuteret ridge or the rocks of the Aiguille Blanche could be gained
-with comparative ease. Now, however, as a result of the huge avalanche
-which fell away from the Peuteret ridge and the col itself in November,
-1920, the height of the latter has been considerably lowered, so that
-from our bivouac we could see beyond it right down to well below the
-summit of the Grand Flambeau. Great bergschrunds now bar direct access
-to either the Peuteret ridge or the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret. From
-the lower rocks of the ridge itself much has fallen away, and they are
-now much steeper. Continual stone-falls, and the liberal traces left by
-them about the foot of the ridge, offered ample evidence of its present
-unstable condition.
-
-It was impossible to find, or even make, a ledge which would
-accommodate the whole party; indeed, none proved wide enough to take
-more than one man, so that after each had selected his couch, we found
-ourselves well scattered over the mountain side. The two porters found
-a berth for themselves at the point where the snowy ridge of the col
-abuts on the rocks. My own sleeping place was a level stretch of rock
-and snow ridge slightly higher up on the Mont Blanc side of the col,
-and on the very backbone of the Innominata ridge. About three feet wide
-at the pillow end, but dwindling away to next door to nothing in the
-region of my feet, it had the advantage of length combined with the
-pleasant uncertainty as to which of the two glaciers, the Fresnay or
-the Brouillard, would have the honour of receiving my mortal remains
-should I lose my balance. The others deposited themselves on more
-or less inadequate ledges on the Brouillard side of the ridge. The
-nearest water supply was five minutes’ climbing distance down towards
-the Brouillard Glacier. On their journey back, skilfully balancing
-well-filled cooking vessels, Alfred and one of the porters (Henri Rey’s
-son) performed some choice feats of rock-climbing.
-
-There were still two hours of sunshine due before the last rays
-sank behind the Brouillard ridge, and these we utilised by changing
-our clothing (a lengthy process, as one hand was usually required
-for balancing purposes) and re-arranging knapsacks, all superfluous
-equipment being put on one side for the porters descending next
-morning. In spite of all my efforts to reduce weight, my burden for
-the morrow’s climb proved to be quite a respectable one. In addition
-to spare clothing, comprising shirt, storm cap and gloves, I had
-climbing irons, two cameras, films for seventy-six exposures in
-air-tight tins, and one day’s iron ration for the whole party. This,
-consisting of two pounds of chocolate, the same quantity of sausage,
-and fifty cigarettes, I had brought with me, feeling confident that the
-optimistic Adolf had made no provision as far as food was concerned for
-the possible eventuality of our being forced to bivouac a second time.
-
-At half-past four we had a frugal but welcome meal of hot soup. At
-five the sun set behind the Brouillard ridge, and the inevitable chill
-of high altitude soon making itself felt, one and all prepared for
-the night. Alfred and I, finding our ledges somewhat too exposed for
-our liking, roped at either end of a sixty-foot rope which we belayed
-over a projecting rock. Six o’clock saw us all settled down more or
-less comfortably. From all accounts, I seem to have spent the warmest
-night, and in view of this a few particulars as to my sleeping-bag may
-possibly be of interest. It was home-made: 7 feet long and 3¹⁄₂ feet
-wide; it consisted of an inner bag composed of 3 lb. of finest grade
-eiderdown, quilted in 1-foot squares into the thinnest procurable
-balloon fabric, and an enveloping outer bag of similar material
-rendered air-tight and damp-proof by a coating of “Duroprene.” The
-total weight was just short of five pounds.
-
-I crawled into my bag. But soon the inevitable stone in the small of
-the back, the antagonist of many a nocturnal episode in that wonderful
-Odyssey of the climber, _Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers_, began its
-insistent ministrations. Unlike the heroes of olden times, however,
-I, deeming discretion the better part of valour, not only resisted
-the temptation to put the enemy _hors de combat_, but, by the simple
-expedient of curling round and clinging fondly to it with my hands,
-I made of it a comrade in arms whose tangibility did much to dispel
-the feeling of insecurity born of the airiness of my perch. The last
-thing I remember was the crimson glory of the sunset touching the huge
-columns of storm-clouds which reared themselves aloft over the Grivola.
-I slept soundly. Twice only did I awake; once to find the lower
-portion of my anatomy dangling coquettishly over the Brouillard side
-of my couch; and again, stirred from a deep slumber by my instinctive
-grappling for an elusive handhold, to discover that I had transferred
-my legs to the Fresnay side.
-
-About half-past four I was aroused by Adolf, rather blue about the
-gills, but cheerful as ever and obviously looking forward to a good
-day’s work. He winked portentously, then, with a somewhat vacant stare,
-looked out beyond me towards the plains of Italy. Following his gaze,
-I soon understood. Over the Paradiso group, vast thunder-clouds still
-brooded; the sky was streaked with ominous, long, dark, fish-shaped
-masses, and I suddenly became aware that a wind had sprung up and was
-blowing past our bivouac in angry, fitful gusts. It seemed almost as
-if our climb were going to develop into a race against the approaching
-storm. I returned Adolf’s confidential wink in kind as he passed me a
-generous cup of hot tea--a luxury which in similar situations, as a
-guideless climber, I had always had to procure for myself.
-
-After a quickly-swallowed breakfast, all was bustle in our camp. My
-boots, which I had lashed to a rock to make certain of not losing them
-(horrible thought!), were easily pulled on, for, though stiff, they
-were very large. By 5 a.m. everything was packed, sleeping-bags rolled
-up handy for the porters, and, roping in the same order as yesterday,
-we began the descent on to the Fresnay Glacier. This led down a steep
-couloir over extremely rotten rocks. The danger of inadvertently
-loosening stones was so great that we gave Adolf and Courtauld time to
-get round a corner out of harm’s way before beginning our own descent.
-Once past the uppermost portion, the slope of the couloir became more
-reasonable, and we were able to work down over a rib on one side till
-we reached a point a little above the head of the uppermost icefall
-of the Fresnay Glacier. Our way to the upper basin of the glacier led
-across a steep, ice-clad couloir followed by an ice slope which bore
-palpable signs of being frequently raked by falling stones and ice.
-Before we were ready to proceed, however, a stone-fall of generous
-proportions clattered down into the couloir, isolated pebbles following
-at odd intervals. Nothing daunted, Adolf, the neatest, fastest, and
-most powerful step-cutter it has ever been my good fortune to see at
-work, banged away across the danger zone in great style. The descent on
-to the Fresnay Glacier occupied, in all, barely an hour. Besides the
-extreme rottenness of the rock, we had met with no real difficulty and
-were well satisfied with our rate of progress.
-
-Threading our way through a maze of ice blocks, remnants of icefalls
-from the huge bergschrund above, we crossed the basin, veering round
-and up towards the bergschrund at a point almost immediately below
-the rocks flanking the western bank of Eccles’s great couloir. The
-previous evening we had decided that of the only two possible ways of
-surmounting the obstacle, this was the safer. The alternative lay in
-crossing the bergschrund far over towards the Pic Eccles, at the only
-spot where it was more or less adequately bridged. But this would have
-entailed hours of step-cutting across the stone-swept slopes above
-the schrund before Eccles’s couloir could be gained. At the point of
-attack a flake had become partially detached from the bergschrund,
-and Adolf and Courtauld made rapid headway to the summit of the flake
-which was, unfortunately, about twenty feet short of the top of the
-schrund. Seeing that further operations promised to take time, we
-ensconced ourselves comfortably down below, while Adolf brought his
-wits to bear upon the solution of the problem of overcoming twenty feet
-of practically perpendicular ice. He was half-way over the obstacle
-when he encountered a bulge which threatened to come perilously near
-destroying his balance. But the last ounce on the right side was
-supplied by Alfred’s ice-axe, after we had hurriedly joined Courtauld
-on his somewhat unstable perch. After that all was easy, at least as
-far as the others were concerned, for they seemed to find no difficulty
-in gaily walking up Adolf’s well-cut steps. But what with a knapsack
-on my back and a camera in my coat pocket, I found more than a little
-trouble in balancing myself round the bulge. This obstruction, in all
-sixty feet high, having been negotiated, a steep slope, sometimes snow,
-sometimes ice, intervened between us and our next objective, the rocks
-on the west bank of Eccles’s couloir. We mounted quickly, for scarcely
-a step needed to be cut, thanks to the plentiful pock-marks made by
-falling stones. On reaching the rocks, we found them almost unclimbable
-in their lower portion and were forced out towards the middle of the
-couloir--a procedure which necessitated the crossing of a deep ice-clad
-stone chute. Thence we climbed over a small island of rocks all but
-submerged in ice, from the upper end of which we were able to traverse
-back and finally gain the rocks on the west bank of the couloir, at a
-point where they were broken up and obviously easy to climb. None too
-soon, however, for hardly had the last man reached dry land when a
-stone-fall clattered down the couloir behind us.
-
-It was 8.30; we had been nearly three and a half hours under way and
-for the best part of the time working at high pressure. On looking
-up towards the Peuteret ridge and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, it
-appeared as if we had left all real difficulties behind us, and the
-optimists of the party prophesied being on the summit within a couple
-of hours. So, though the weather was fast becoming worse, we settled
-down light-heartedly to a second breakfast. The iron ration sausage
-was produced and attacked with gusto; though of the same breed, it
-differed distinctly from the ordinary salami, which to me is somewhat
-reminiscent of cat and dog. Whatever its constituents may have been,
-it went down well, being as savoury as usual, but less salted and not
-so highly spiced. We allowed ourselves half an hour’s grace, then
-stowed away our climbing irons and started up the rocks. They proved
-to be easy, though most unreliable. Here and there ice, covered more
-often than not by bad snow, took time to negotiate, but on the whole we
-made rapid progress. Shortly after ten we gained the end of the rocks;
-slightly below us and to the right was the point where the snowy upper
-half of the Peuteret ridge begins. A little snow slope brought us out
-on the ridge itself, but not without free use of the axe. The snow was
-deep and very bad; it lacked cohesion and concealed hard ice. Working
-along slightly on the Brenva side of the ridge, we at first found snow
-just sufficiently good to bear our weight in kicked steps, but in less
-than a rope’s length it had become so bad that it had to be cleared
-away before the climbing irons would bite into the ice underneath. The
-spikes of my irons, fully three-quarters of an inch longer than those
-worn by the others, proved their value here. By merely stamping, I
-could force my foot far enough through the snow to grip the ice below.
-This was one of the several occasions arising on this expedition where
-the presence of an indifferent ice-climber would have proved not only
-troublesome but a real danger to the safety of the party, by causing
-the loss of much valuable time. After progressing in this manner for
-about a hundred yards, we got tired of threshing down the execrable
-snow which seemed to get worse as we gained in altitude. Within easy
-reach both to the left and the right were rock ribs which offered a
-less tedious means of advance. A traverse of about thirty yards across
-the steep western flank of the Peuteret ridge brought us on to one of
-these ribs, the rocks of which soon showed themselves to be exceedingly
-rotten. Once more the climbing irons were removed and placed in our
-knapsacks. Oliver, at this point, had the misfortune to lose his axe;
-he placed it on a ledge, where it lost its balance and fell down in a
-few stately bounds towards the Fresnay Glacier. It was while watching
-the axe disappear that I realised for the first time the enormous
-general steepness of the ground upon which we were climbing.
-
-[Illustration: _The Aigulles Blanche and Noire de Peuteret._
-
-_From a point on the Peuteret ridge about 1,200 feet below the summit
-of Mont Blanc._]
-
-[Illustration: “_A traverse of about thirty yards across the steep
-western flank of the Peuteret ridge._...”
-
-  _Facing page 244._
-]
-
-It now looked as if rocks could be followed practically all the way
-to the summit--a relief for which we were duly thankful, having had
-quite enough of snow. There was some difference of opinion as to the
-best line of ascent up these rocks; but, on the whole, there seems to
-have been little in our respective choices, for Adolf and Courtauld,
-whose route converged with that of our party from time to time, always
-succeeded in maintaining a lead of one or more rope’s lengths. The
-climbing was difficult, and throughout extreme caution was necessary,
-on account of the unreliability of the rock. Occasionally, a belt
-of almost vertical red rock of a fair degree of firmness would crop
-up, but even this was invariably crowned with the rotten, dark brown
-variety. Nevertheless, we climbed quickly, for while still six hundred
-feet below Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, swirling mists practically
-obliterated all view of our surroundings, and it was evident that,
-if we were not soon to find ourselves in a critical situation, every
-minute gained was precious. The rocks came to an end about a hundred
-feet below the summit of Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, and only a slope
-covered with the usual pernicious snow lay between us and safety.
-Adolf, trusting more to his climbing irons and to gentle treatment of
-the snow than to his ice-axe, climbed rapidly up to immediately beneath
-the cornice, cut himself a good step, and with a few powerful strokes
-hewed a channel through which he was speedily followed by Courtauld.
-While we were putting the finishing touches to the donning of extra
-clothing, in preparation for the cold weather up aloft, Adolf’s
-stentorian voice shouted down a cheery “Come along!” Looking up, I
-could just barely make out his well-muffled-up head framed in the notch
-in the cornice. Then he disappeared.
-
-At 1.15 p.m. we, in turn, stepped through the cornice on to Mont
-Blanc de Courmayeur, to be greeted by a high and chilly wind. Adolf
-and Courtauld were already out of sight, though they were certainly
-not far away, for the jingling of their axes against the rocks of a
-_gendarme_ close by was audible above the sound of the gale. The mist
-was so thick that we could not see each other at rope’s length. Adolf’s
-tracks led off along the crest of the ridge towards Mont Blanc. Having
-painful memories from last year, however, of what this ridge could be
-like in stormy weather, I forsook his tracks and plunged down on to
-the Trélatête side, in the hopes of there finding more shelter from
-the icy blast. In view of Oliver’s axeless condition this involved
-step-cutting; but, on looking back after having cut about twenty steps,
-I saw him coming along as nonchalantly as if he were on a London
-pavement, so immediately gave up further cutting and relied upon
-climbing irons alone. In this way we skirted round the bases of three
-or four rocky outcrops and regained the ridge at about its lowest point
-between Mont Blanc and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur.
-
-A little farther on we found the other two, who were inclined to
-mistake a small snowy hump for the summit of Mont Blanc. To avoid the
-wind, we now crossed over on to the Brenva side of the ridge and,
-traversing diagonally upwards, found tracks leading up from the Mur de
-la Côte. These were followed to the summit where we arrived at 1.45
-p.m., having been eight and three-quarter hours under way from our
-bivouac.
-
-The state of the weather precluded descending by either the Rochers or
-the Dôme route, and we contented ourselves with going down directly to
-Chamonix. Being the only member of the party with first-hand knowledge
-of the Grands Mulets route, I was deputed to show the way. The descent
-was uneventful, except for Oliver’s spraining his ankle, and for the
-fact that my pigheadedness in refusing to follow the tracks brought us
-out to the Pierre à l’Échelle, which route, I have since learnt, has
-been recently discarded in favour of the Montagne de la Côte.
-
-This narrative would be incomplete were it brought to a close without
-expressing my admiration for the professional members of the party.
-Adolf and I were not unknown to each other, for twelve years ago, on
-a stormy September day, we had stood together on the summit of the
-Lyskamm. Since then he has joined that select coterie of first-class
-guides whose number can be counted on one’s fingers. He has climbed
-Mont Blanc by nearly every conceivable route and thus knows the
-mountain better than any other living guide. I need say little of his
-prowess either on ice or on rock; he is first-rate on both. Last,
-but not least, he is an excellent companion, ever eager to be doing,
-and ready to put every ounce of energy into any problem upon which
-he embarks. Alfred, who was serving only the second season of his
-apprenticeship, is fast following in his brother’s footsteps. He too
-will, sooner or later, become a first-class guide. Four Courmayeur
-porters accompanied us up to the Col Supérieur du Fresnay. They carried
-heavy loads, but through all the trying situations that arose, they
-preserved their good humour and determination. Their conduct was
-admirable.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[9] Émile Rey was one of the finest of Alpine guides. He lost his life,
-in 1895, through a slip while descending the easy rocks at the base of
-the Aiguille du Géant.
-
-[10] An interesting inscription, written by Signor Gruber and giving
-brief details of this formidable expedition, may still be seen
-pencilled on a beam in the Dôme hut, _via_ which the party returned to
-Courmayeur. From the general tone of this inscription, short as it is,
-can be gathered the strong impression which Mont Blanc had, on this
-occasion, made upon all members of the party.
-
-[11] In 1874 Mr. J. G. Marshall, with the guides Johann Fischer and
-Ulrich Almer, fell into a crevasse on the Brouillard Glacier. The two
-first-named were killed.
-
-Professor F. M. Balfour and his guide Johann Petrus lost their lives in
-1882 while attempting to repeat Signor Gruber’s ascent.
-
-[12] Sons of Émile Rey.
-
-[13] The original Gamba hut stood on the Fresnay side of the
-Châtelet-Innominata ridge. In the winter of 1919-20, however, it was
-wrecked by an avalanche, and from the débris was constructed the
-present hut which stands on the ridge itself about ten minutes above
-the old site, at approximately 8,300 feet.
-
-[14] The rocky bed of a glacier sometimes becomes so steep that the ice
-falls away and exposes the rock underneath. As the ice at the top of
-such a rock slope partakes of the continual downward movement of the
-glacier, it is continually breaking away and crashing down the rock to
-the continuation of the glacier lower down. Swiss guides call such a
-place “Heisse Platte,” _i.e._ “hot (or lively) slab.”
-
-[15] Professor and Mrs. Jones and their guide Truffer were killed in
-1921 while climbing the Mont Rouge de Peuteret.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-TWO CHAMONIX AIGUILLES
-
-
-North-north-east of, and near to Mont Blanc, is a compact group of bold
-buttresses and ridges supporting a multitude of dark rock pinnacles
-whose slender spires seem close against the sky. These are the Chamonix
-Aiguilles. The conquest of the more important of these bold granite
-towers was largely due to the inspiring energy and determination of the
-late Mr. A. F. Mummery, one of the greatest of bygone mountaineers. For
-devotees of rock-climbing pure and simple, the Aiguilles of Chamonix
-are a veritable paradise, for they form one of the few mountain groups
-in the Alps where the rock is so firm and reliable that one can
-climb for hours on end without encountering a single loose stone or
-questionable handhold.
-
-Rock-climbing, particularly on good, sound rock, has never held any
-great charm for me. I have always regarded it as but one of the
-simplest, most easily learnt and less important branches of a wider
-art, and, as it is met with on almost any big snow-and-ice expedition,
-I have never felt disposed to go out of my way in search of it for its
-own sake. It was not until the close of the summer season of 1910 that
-my friend, Ph. Visser, induced me to launch out on an expedition where
-rock-climbing was avowedly the main attraction.
-
-
-THE REQUIN
-
-The Dent du Requin, one of the more popular of the Chamonix Aiguilles,
-is a bold, rocky tower rising to a height of over 11,200 feet from
-one end of the long ridge which falls away from the Aiguille du Plan
-towards the east. Early on the morning of August 29, we left the
-Montanvert in two parties, the first consisting of Mr. Lugard and his
-guide, Joseph Knubel, a rock-climber of great distinction hailing
-from St. Nicholas in the Zermatt Valley, and the second of Visser
-and myself. Following the customary route towards the Col du Géant
-as far as the great icefall of the Géant Glacier, we made our way up
-unpleasantly steep screes to the d’Envers du Plan Glacier, over whose
-much crevassed surface we eventually gained the southern slopes of the
-ridge connecting the Plan with the Requin, at a point where broken
-rocks gave easy access to the crest. Six and a half hours after leaving
-the Montanvert, we arrived at the point on the ridge known as the
-Shoulder, and the Requin appeared in full view. I must confess to a
-feeling of disappointment; it was obvious that there could not be more
-than an hour’s difficult climbing. The six and a half hours’ ascent
-from the Montanvert had been tiring and utterly devoid of interest in
-the mountaineering sense, except for the comparatively short passage
-over the d’Envers du Plan Glacier, and I failed to see how one hour’s
-rock-climbing could merit such a tedious approach. Knubel, who had
-already made several ascents of the peak, now went ahead with Lugard
-and, climbing without difficulty, arrived at a gap in the ridge just
-below the lower end of the immense and partly overhanging chimney
-that cleaves the Requin almost from head to foot. At the foot of the
-chimney, a steep slab falls away towards a ledge which Knubel and
-Lugard gained by the use of the doubled rope. Visser and I followed,
-retrieving the rope after reaching the ledge. Then, mounting a series
-of short, very steep chimneys, we arrived on a broad platform.
-Henceforward, working spiral-wise, we climbed to the summit. The
-climbing was difficult throughout, but it was always perfectly safe.
-The holds were everywhere extraordinarily reliable, and it was probably
-this selfsame reliability and the fact that a party preceded us all the
-time that made the Requin, as a climbing proposition, seem hopelessly
-dull and monotonous. Only now and again when one’s eye travelled down
-the tremendous precipices to the gloomy, shut-in basin of the d’Envers
-du Blaitière Glacier, did one become conscious of one’s airy position
-and feel the vivid sense of exhilaration that every real mountain climb
-provides almost throughout.
-
-[Illustration: _Chamonix Aiguilles and Mont Blanc._]
-
-[Illustration: _Descending the Grépon._]
-
-[Illustration: _A stiff chimney._
-
-  _Facing page 250._
-]
-
-If the ascent, however, had been weary, stale and unprofitable, the
-descent was to provide me with at least one compensating thrill. With
-the aid of the doubled rope, the great chimney before mentioned can be
-descended, and the dreariness of going home by the same road, as it
-were, avoided. Knubel and Lugard led off down the chimney, the upper
-half of which is barren of outstanding difficulty. We fixed a doubled
-rope, but there was no need to use it. In the middle of the chimney,
-however, there is a sloping platform which was plastered with ice;
-and below the platform the chimney falls away in a great overhang. We
-discovered a rusty _piton_ driven into a narrow fissure in one side of
-the crack, but it was very loose. So Knubel hammered away some of the
-ice from the platform and laid bare a projecting stone over which he
-passed the spare rope. Together we let Lugard down to the bottom of
-the chimney. Then came Visser’s turn, and Knubel went next, preferring
-to rely entirely on the doubled rope. Having nothing else to do for
-the moment, I relaxed, and was absorbing the view when, by the merest
-chance, I happened to glance down at my feet. To my horror, I saw the
-rope on which Knubel was now hanging in free air slowly but surely
-rolling itself off the belay. Just in time to prevent its slipping off
-altogether, I trod heavily on it with my foot. Knubel, all unconscious
-of how near he had been to destruction, swung gaily downwards to
-the others. Then came my turn. After what I had witnessed, I felt
-disinclined to trust myself to the treacherous belay. After some little
-delay, during which I was much chaffed by the others, who were unaware
-of the cause of my hesitation, I succeeded in jamming the rusty old
-_piton_ firmly enough into its fissure to satisfy even my now somewhat
-critical ideas of safety; and, passing the doubled rope through the
-ring, I shinned down. The climb was over. There remained nothing but
-the dreary return to the Montanvert; there had been one thrill, and
-that an undesirable one and unshared by my companions. The impression
-that survived was one of monotony, and I longed for all the wonderful
-variety and wide appeal which makes the real mountain adventure such a
-thing of joy.
-
-
-THE GRÉPON
-
-A gigantic saw set up on edge and crowned by an array of irregular
-teeth--such, as seen broadside on from either the Mer de Glace or
-the Nantillons Glacier, is the great serrated ridge formed by the
-Charmoz and the Grépon. The deep col, or depression, which divides
-the ridge approximately in half, bears the composite name of the Col
-Charmoz-Grépon. Both of these peaks were climbed for the first time
-by a party consisting of Mummery, Alexander Burgener, that Viking of
-guides, and B. Venetz, a young fellow who must have been a very active
-climber; and all three declared the ascent of the Grépon to be “the
-most difficult climb in the world.” The advance which has taken place
-since Mummery’s time in modern rock-climbing has robbed the Grépon of
-its right to this proud title; but its ascent is still held to rank
-amongst the most difficult rock-climbing problems which the climber is
-able to find in the Alps or, indeed, in any other part of the world.
-
-The ascent of the Grépon formed the last item upon our programme for
-the summer of 1911. Like the Requin, the Grépon is built up of huge
-blocks of marvellously firm granite, and, after my experience of the
-former, I hoped for little mountaineering enjoyment from the latter.
-As far as we could gather, there would be real mountaineering only on
-the ascent to the Col Charmoz-Grépon, whence the actual climb starts,
-and on the descent from the Col des Nantillons. Several mountaineers,
-however, had assured us that rock-climbing was not only more attractive
-than snow and ice work but also more difficult. So, desirous of
-testing fairly the truth of this statement so far as we ourselves were
-concerned, Max and I left the Montanvert at 2 a.m. on September 5,
-bound for the _ne plus ultra_ of rock ascents.
-
-If care is taken never to lose sight of it, a path, at first
-well-marked but dwindling away to a diminutive track, may be followed
-almost on to the Nantillons Glacier, whence the broad couloir running
-down from the Col Charmoz-Grépon is reached. The head of this glacier
-is enclosed in a cirque of horseshoe shape formed by the cliffs of the
-Charmoz, Grépon and Blaitière. In line with the ends of the horseshoe,
-the glacier tumbles over a cliff, and the icefall thus formed divides
-it into an upper and lower half. We succeeded in keeping to the
-Montanvert track all the way to the glacier and, while walking up the
-gently inclined snow-free surface of the lower half, had ample time
-to study the icefall. It was easy to recognise in a steep island of
-rocks lying close under the cliffs of the Blaitière the best line of
-ascent to the upper half of the glacier. Below these rocks the ice
-steepened somewhat, and a few steps had to be cut before the island
-was gained. Once on the rocks the traces of previous climbers were
-everywhere in evidence, and we followed a trail of empty tins, bottles
-and other leavings of humanity to the farther end of the island, where,
-just after daybreak, we roped and embarked upon the glacier. We had
-proceeded only a few yards, when we were suddenly brought up short on
-the edge of an enormous crevasse which stretched away, unbridged, on
-either hand to the bounding cliffs of the cirque. To cross would have
-involved hours of hard work and step-cutting, but for the fact that
-two ladders tied together and laid across the chasm at its narrowest
-point were still in a sufficiently serviceable condition to enable us
-to gain the farther edge without trouble. Thence, hastening through a
-short zone endangered by the séracs of an ice wall at the foot of the
-Blaitière, we gained the middle of the upper basin of the Nantillons
-Glacier and proceeded leisurely up the hard-frozen snow to the foot of
-the couloir which gives access to the Col Charmoz-Grépon.
-
-The summer having been exceptionally dry and fine, the mountain was
-practically free from snow and ice, so we left one of our axes and a
-knapsack containing all superfluous baggage at the foot of the couloir,
-to be recovered on the descent. In the remaining knapsack we carried
-spare clothing, a spare one-hundred-and-fifty-foot rope and a few
-provisions, including a can of peaches and a tin of condensed milk
-reserved for the summit feast. Camera and spare films were stowed away,
-as usual, in my coat pocket. Some little difficulty was experienced
-in effecting a lodgment in the rocky bed of the couloir, the glacier
-having shrunk away from the rock to such an extent that a rather deep
-cleft had been formed. The descent into the cleft was easy enough, but
-it was only after a sharp, if short, struggle up a very steep chimney
-with unreliable holds on the upper side of the cleft that the broken
-rocks of the couloir were gained. Here the climbing was perfectly easy,
-though the rock was far from firm, and care was necessary. We climbed
-close together on a short rope on account of the many loose rocks,
-some of which needed only a touch to start them crashing down to the
-glacier. Without meeting with any real obstacle, we mounted rapidly,
-keeping for the most part well to the left of the couloir which bore
-unmistakable signs of stone-falls. At the point where the couloir
-bifurcates, we took the branch to the right. It was much steeper and
-narrower than the lower part of the couloir and was partially filled
-with ice, but the remains of steps were still fairly well preserved and
-needed but little re-cutting. Shortly before 7 a.m. we gained the Col
-Charmoz-Grépon. On a little level ledge overlooking the immense and
-tremendously steep precipice falling away towards the Mer de Glace,
-we found shelter from the icy morning breeze and, warmed by the rays
-of the sun, settled down to our first rest and meal since leaving
-the Montanvert. Progress had been on the whole leisurely. The climb
-had provided mountaineering of the ordinary, everyday kind without
-notable difficulty, though, had it not been for the ladders, the large
-crevasse would undoubtedly have provided hard work. But it had been
-real mountaineering with all its essential variety, now rock, now ice,
-now snow; everything had been taken as it came, and, in addition, we
-had been almost throughout in, to us, an unknown region of wild and
-beautiful scenery. But now from the col onwards, if the information of
-others could be relied upon, we should for hours on end be indulging
-in nothing more than a strenuous form of gymnastics.
-
-[Illustration: _A sérac._]
-
-[Illustration: “_Two ladders tied together and laid across the
-chasm...._”
-
-  _Facing page 254._
-]
-
-For one whole delightful hour we dallied, basking in the warm sun;
-then, deeming it time to begin acrobatic operations, we returned to
-the col to have a good look at the famous Mummery crack with which the
-climb commences, and which is held to be the most difficult portion
-of the ascent. The crack lies on the Nantillons side of the ridge and
-is formed by a huge flake of rock which has become partially detached
-from the main mass of the mountain. It is about seventy feet high
-and almost vertical; indeed, in its lower part it appears even to
-overhang slightly. A spacious enough platform at the bottom provides
-a good jumping-off place. Leaving my camera and all other impedimenta
-behind in the col, I gained the platform and immediately set to work,
-while Max, perched on a slender, leaning spire jutting out of the
-col, belayed the rope. The crack was sufficiently deep to permit me
-to get my right arm into it beyond the elbow, and, though narrow, it
-was sufficiently wide to admit my right foot. Left arm and foot sought
-and found hold, though minute, on the rough crystalline texture of the
-outside surface of the flake. By twisting my right arm or turning my
-right boot, either could be wedged firmly into the fissure at will,
-and an absolutely reliable hold obtained. By adopting a method of
-progression similar to that of a caterpillar, that is, alternately
-bending and straightening myself, I rose quickly, passed beyond the
-lower overhanging portion, and about half-way up gained a small ledge
-on the flake which provided good standing room for the left foot. Thus
-far the climbing had been more a question of knack than a trial of
-strength, and I looked up at the second half of the crack expecting to
-see some hitherto hidden feature that would give serious trouble. If
-anything, however, it seemed easier than the part already overcome.
-Here and there a stone jammed tightly into the fissure promised perfect
-handhold. I rested for a few seconds, then resumed the attack. A little
-way above the ledge, both surfaces of the flake became very smooth, and
-for the first time I had to struggle really hard; but soon my right
-hand gripped the first of the chock-stones, and the remainder of the
-crack to within six feet of its top was easily negotiated. The final
-wall to the right was studded with plentiful handholds and soon I was
-standing on the crowning platform. The ascent of Mummery’s crack had
-taken me just over two and three-quarter minutes. While I held his
-rope, Max, with ice-axe and knapsack, now climbed over to the ledge at
-the foot of the crack. There he unroped and tied on the baggage, which
-I then hauled up to my perch. As soon as it was safely stowed away,
-I flung the end of the rope back to Max, whose turn had now come. He
-clambered up at an amazing pace without even pausing to rest at the
-half-way ledge, and was soon beside me on the broad platform, panting
-out a scathing criticism on those who dared to compare gymnastics on
-rock with the varied difficulties of snow and ice work.
-
-From here onwards the climbing, though almost throughout difficult,
-never came up to the standard of that of the crack. Sometimes we
-climbed on one side of the ridge, sometimes on the other, and at
-times on the crest itself. Belays were in evidence everywhere, and
-the rock was uniformly good. Never did we meet with a single loose or
-unreliable hand- or foothold. After passing the bold pinnacle which is
-the northern summit of the aiguille, we arrived on the great platform
-which breaks away in the precipitous, unclimbable wall, called the
-Grand Diable, leading down to a deep gap in the ridge. Thanks to
-our plentiful supply of rope, this obstacle was easily overcome by
-resorting to the time-honoured dodge of roping down. From the gap, a
-level ledge known as the Route des Bicyclettes winds along the Mer
-de Glace face and enables one to circumvent the ensuing be-pinnacled
-portion of the ridge. After some further scrambling we stood at the
-foot of the final summit pinnacle. This, a great square-cut tower,
-capped by a huge, flat stone and seamed by a formidable-looking cleft,
-had been in full view before us ever since passing the northern summit,
-and we had already jumped to the conclusion that the way to the top led
-up this cleft. As the description of the summit crack given to us, a
-few days before, tallied more or less with the fearsome-looking thing
-to our left, we decided to disregard an obviously easy ledge running
-round to the Nantillons face. It is true that we had been told that
-the summit crack was much easier than Mummery’s, and we failed to see
-anything easy in the crack before us; also, as it hung right out over
-the terrific precipices running down to the Mer de Glace, one would be
-in a frightfully exposed position while climbing it. But appearances
-are never so deceptive as in the mountains, so I buttoned up my coat,
-made sure that the knot fastening the rope about my waist was well
-tied and started off. Max had good standing ground and could belay my
-rope securely. Once in the crack, the work began in earnest; a very
-real earnest indeed, as subsequent events proved. It was wider than
-Mummery’s crack, but not wide enough to allow me to get right inside
-it; with my left arm and shoulder and leg inside whilst right hand and
-boot scraped outside in search of hold, I slowly struggled and fought
-my way up. It was most exhausting work. Just below the summit I had to
-turn round and get my right shoulder and leg into the crack, and left
-leg and arm out; a change of position that was accomplished only after
-an almost desperate struggle which robbed me of breath and sapped my
-strength to such an extent that, when it came to swinging myself up
-over the flat, overhanging summit stone, I found myself unequal to the
-effort. I was powerless alike to retreat or advance. Max, however, who
-had never for a moment relaxed his attention to my movements, had noted
-my dilemma and, with a warning shout that he was coming, hastened to my
-assistance, armed with knapsack and ice-axe. With my left hand and my
-teeth I took in his rope as he climbed upwards. When his head was just
-below my feet, he stopped and jammed himself firmly into the fissure.
-With his head as a foothold and a prod from the axe, I received the
-extra ounce of steadying support that enabled me to complete the ascent
-and haul myself up to the safety of the flat table-like stone that is
-the distinguishing feature of the summit of the Grépon. As fast as my
-breathless state would permit, I pulled in the rope until it was taut
-between us; and a few minutes later, just before midday, Max was seated
-by my side.
-
-We were both rather puzzled and not a little humbled. The fierce
-tussle which the last crack had demanded, had provided something of a
-shock. If this were the sort of thing that most climbers of the Grépon
-called by no means excessively difficult and certainly easier than
-Mummery’s crack, then it would have to be admitted that rock-climbing
-had, indeed, its points, and that we were sadly in need of practice.
-A little later, however, the mystery was solved. Going over to the
-Nantillons side of the summit platform, with a view to glancing at
-the way down to the Col des Nantillons, I discovered a perfectly
-straightforward crack of no great length which ended on the easy ledge
-that we had previously neglected to explore. There could be no doubt
-that we had taken the wrong way up the final summit pinnacle. Several
-months later, I learnt that this formidable crack was the famous Venetz
-crack, climbed but once before, and that in 1881, on the occasion of
-the first ascent of the mountain. To this day the only other ascent
-recorded was made in 1923 by a party led by Mr. G. S. Bower. That no
-more than three ascents have been made in the course of thirty-two
-years is testimony enough to what this crack offers.
-
-[Illustration: _The summit of the Grépon._
-
-_The Venetz crack is the dark cleft which ends under the flat stone on
-the summit._
-
-  _Facing page 258._
-]
-
-Returning to Max, I imparted the reassuring news, but to heedless ears,
-for he proved far more interested in plying the usual inefficient
-pocket-knife edition of a tin-opener in an attempt to lay bare the
-luscious contents of a two-pound tin of Californian peaches. His
-efforts were too vigorous and determined for any tin to withstand for
-long, and we were soon enjoying a feast of peaches and Nestlé’s milk.
-The only thing lacking was snow which was sorely needed, not only to
-dilute the somewhat concentrated ingredients of our meal, but also to
-assuage the thirst that assailed us. After lunch, following our usual
-custom where time was of no vital importance, we settled down to sleep,
-not omitting, however, to secure the rope to the summit stone as a
-guard against the dangers of rolling out of bed. We found out later
-that these simple actions had been assiduously watched from Chamonix
-and gravely misconstrued by the many telescope owners who, while making
-petty fortunes, had been explaining to their clientèle of trippers that
-we were two mad young Englishmen who would certainly come to grief
-because we had with us no stalwart guides to ensure our safety. Now,
-on lying down to sleep, we suddenly disappeared from their view, and
-the rumour at once went round that we had fallen off the summit! Two
-hours passed by without our reappearing, and the rumour had deepened
-into conviction; even one of our friends in Chamonix had begun to have
-fears for our safety. At 3 p.m. we awoke and began to prepare for the
-descent. This sudden resurrection put an end to the supposed tragedy,
-but henceforward we were not only _fous_ but _absolument fous_, for no
-self-respecting Chamoniard has any use for a mountain-top except to
-leave it as soon as is decently possible after gaining it. Personally
-I love to dally in such places as long as is compatible with safety.
-Memories of hours spent stretched out in half-somnolent ease on the
-great sun-kissed slabs of summits, in splendid isolation, with the
-blue vault of heaven above and the brown-green earth spread out below,
-are treasure beyond price, eternally one’s own and never to be lost,
-inviolate to the onslaughts of the getting, grabbing world.
-
-The descent on the Nantillons side of the summit was effected without
-difficulty, and landed us out on the previously neglected ledge close
-to a collection of rope slings indicative of the beginning of the
-next pitch. This proved to be a chimney some eighty feet long and
-seemingly quite unclimbable, at all events in its upper portion; the
-doubled rope, however, solved the problem as effectively as usual, and
-we found ourselves on a little platform at the top of an apparently
-almost unbroken series of huge precipitous slabs falling away to the
-Nantillons Glacier. To descend without an enormous amount of spare
-rope seemed out of the question, but, as the edge of the platform on
-which we stood was garnished with the bleached remains of two rope
-slings, we concluded that it was the usual way down. So Max held my
-rope and let me over the precipice. I descended quite a hundred feet,
-but no feasible way out revealed itself, and I had to go back. The
-return cost us both a stern effort, Max pulling in the rope while I
-lent him as much assistance as possible by making what use I could of
-the few available holds. Casting round for a way out of the _impasse_,
-we chanced upon a boot nail in the bed of a steep but short chimney
-leading up in the direction of the ridge. We immediately followed up
-this timely clue and gained the top of the chimney, to find, a few
-steps farther on, a simple and straightforward line of descent open out
-before us. The way led frequently over steep ground, but everywhere
-there was a profusion of holds and belays, and the rock still remained
-as firm and reliable as cast iron. At half-past four, the Col des
-Nantillons was under foot, and the acrobatic part of the day’s work was
-over. One could not help feeling that a baboon would have acquitted
-himself throughout with much more distinction than any of his human
-brothers.
-
-The remainder of the descent was accomplished without incident.
-The crevasses near the head of the Nantillons Glacier were readily
-negotiated, thanks to reliable snow bridges that obligingly provided a
-crossing at the very places one would have chosen oneself. Passing by
-the foot of the couloir leading to the Col Charmoz-Grépon, we picked
-up the axe and knapsack left there in the morning and then, swinging
-round to the left, hurried across the sérac-swept slopes to the great
-crevasse. The ladder was still in position, and soon we were on the
-little rock island, where the rope was taken off and stowed away.
-
-We had originally intended to make Chamonix that evening; but to do
-that now would entail hurry. It was our last day of a wonderful season
-of health and happiness-giving adventure in the Alps, and we were loth
-to leave the scene. To hasten from the midst of these great towers of
-silence and the white purity of the snows they nurse was impossible.
-So we decided to pass the night at the Montanvert. Eager to retard
-the flight of our little season of freedom, we strolled downwards
-with lagging steps, pausing at whiles to drink in the glories of the
-mountains as the shades of night closed in upon them.
-
-That evening, after dinner, we sat together, somewhat heavy-hearted, on
-the hôtel terrace overlooking the Mer de Glace. The Grandes Jorasses
-and the Rôchefort ridge were dimly outlined against the starry heaven.
-The Charmoz and the Dru, dark, ghostly pillars almost piercing the
-skies, stood, as if on guard, at the portals of that great world of
-snow and ice-bound rock where we had found true happiness, and to which
-we were now to bid farewell for a space.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It may be instructive to consider in how far a training in British
-rock-climbing will help or hinder the aspirant to high adventure in the
-Alps or any of the world’s greater mountain masses. To the uninitiated,
-mountaineering is the dangerous, foolhardy, yet withal praiseworthy
-sport of the superman, heroic of physique and nerve, who gaily struts
-along the brinks of, or nonchalantly hangs over, awesome precipices
-and, disregarding all moral obligations, continually and with careless
-smile fences with death. In short, the untutored idea superficially
-conceives of a mountain as a thing of dark, frowning, rocky glories--a
-natural stage on which a superior type of acrobat displays his muscular
-agility. And so the term “mountaineer” loses its dignity and becomes
-synonymous with that of “rock-climber.” But the “white domes of frozen
-air” exist outside the poetic imagination, and mountaineering is not
-a simple but a complex science, and the proficient mountaineer is not
-only a rock-climber, but a snow-and-ice craftsman, an adept in the
-use of rope and axe, a pathfinder, something of a meteorologist, an
-organiser and, no less important, must have acquired the knowledge
-of how to conserve his energy, build up his powers of endurance
-and cultivate the proper mentality. To what extent can the various
-attributes of the composite being that is the true mountaineer be
-fostered amongst the crags and fells of the British Isles?
-
-From the geological point of view, the rocks of the Alps may be divided
-into two classes, namely silicious rock and calcareous rock. The
-mountaineer will further subdivide these two classes into good, bad
-or indifferent; thus, in all, the climber in the Alps meets with six
-different types of rock. These might be multiplied according to degree,
-but for our present purpose such meticulous treatment is needless. As
-a general rule, the rock-climber in the British Isles encounters only
-the good silicious class of rock. Other classes are to be met with,
-but a glance at the list of the more popular and outstanding climbs,
-such as those on Kern Knotts, the Pillar Rock, and Lliwedd, would seem
-to show that they are more or less avoided. In time, this one-sided
-training inculcates bad habits of which the climber does not even know
-himself guilty. Of the many types of rock met with in the Alps, the
-good silicious brand is the most rare; so that there the knowledge of
-the one form and the inexperience of the other forms of rock are likely
-to prove quite inadequate, indeed even dangerous, assets. A school that
-teaches one to master only the safe is no sufficient school for the
-would-be mountaineer, and the British-trained climber will soon find
-that he has much to learn of rock-climbing in the Alps.
-
-Again, stone avalanches are unknown in Britain. The only stones that
-fall there do so through human agency--the clumsy placing of a foot or
-hand, the careless use of the rope--and not through the working of
-the natural forces of sun and frost. When and where stone-falls may be
-expected to occur is part of the mountain lore that a mountaineer must
-acquire, and it will not be acquired, at first-hand at least, on the
-Cumbrian or Welsh hills.
-
-It is often reiterated that Great Britain provides climbs of a higher
-standard than do the Alps. Disregarding the obvious limitations of the
-former (not least of these being that in Great Britain almost all the
-difficult climbs are ascents, and difficult descents are neglected),
-and the fact that they are, as it were, at the back door of one’s
-hotel, whereas the latter are approached only after hours of hard and
-fatiguing preliminary work which robs one’s strength of its edge, I
-should like to make a few simple comparisons from my own experiences.
-One morning in July, 1913, I climbed Kern Knotts crack twice, first
-without the rope and alone, then roped and as leader. The niche was
-gained by the crack below; the useful chock-stone above the niche was
-missing. No shoulder was used. During the afternoon I climbed the
-Eagle’s Nest ridge which still ranks, I believe, as one of the most
-difficult of British rock ascents. On this climb I trailed behind me a
-hundred-foot length of half-inch diameter rope, one end of which was
-tied round my waist. Nailed boots were worn on all three climbs. I
-came to the conclusion that Kern Knotts crack is shorter, less steep,
-requires less skill and knack, and is altogether considerably less
-difficult than the famous Mummery crack on the Grépon. It will not for
-one moment bear comparison with the Venetz crack on the same peak. The
-Eagle’s Nest ridge, though very difficult, is undoubtedly less trying
-than the first buttress on the west ridge of the Bifertenstock.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Photo A. I. I. Finch._
-
-_Good, sound rock._
-
-  _Facing page 264._
-]
-
-What are the opportunities in Great Britain for training in snow
-and ice-craft? I have met with only five different kinds of snow in
-the hills of these islands; and all were good from the mountaineer’s
-point of view. The snow was either cohesive or could be made to cohere.
-In the Alps I have taken notes of some of the characteristic features
-and properties of very many distinct types of snow, the majority of
-which called for the exercise of special caution in venturing upon the
-slopes on which they lay. Ice is rarely met with in Great Britain,
-and then never in sufficient quantity to necessitate the cutting, at
-the outside, of more than a few steps--poor practice indeed for the
-pitiless ice slopes of the east face of Monte Rosa. Avalanches and
-snow-shields are unknown here; in the Alps, especially in winter, and
-in the Himalayas at all times, one must be on one’s guard against such
-dangers. Ignorance in this respect has been the cause of some of the
-most deplorable of mountaineering accidents. Glaciers and crevasses are
-non-existent in Britain. In fine, as a training ground for snow and
-ice-craft, our homeland hills are useless. To assert what one does not
-know is a fairly universal human failing; and there are some British
-rock-climbers who contend that snow and ice-craft is no more difficult
-than rock-climbing. In reality there is not one of the big snow and
-ice expeditions of the Alps that does not represent a far more serious
-undertaking, physically and mentally, than the Grépon, Requin or any
-other of the better known “crack” rock-climbs. Not only does British
-rock-climbing fail to provide the beginner with practice in the use of
-the axe for sounding, step-cutting and belaying, but it also fails to
-teach him what is almost equally important--how to handle and carry
-the axe when it is not actually required. On ninety-nine out of every
-hundred scrambles at home the axe is left behind altogether.
-
-Moreover, in the use of the rope, non-Alpine and Alpine practices
-vary greatly. Owing to the shortness of climbs in Great Britain, time
-is immaterial. Parties move one man at a time. The leader climbs on
-ahead, free from the encumbrances of axe and knapsack, until he finds
-a suitable belay. The second man follows, likewise unencumbered, as
-the leader takes in the rope. The last man sometimes carries a light
-knapsack, though I myself have never seen it done, nor do the numerous
-pictures of British rock-climbing now before me show any trace of
-such impedimenta. Time is too valuable in the Alps to permit of such
-tactics except where the difficulties are considerable. In the case of
-almost any Alpine expedition, for more than half the time the members
-of a party are moving all together; and to be proficient in the use
-of the rope means that one must be able not only to move without its
-continually getting in the way, but also to look after it and keep
-it taut, so as to check a slip immediately, while actually climbing.
-Practice in this is necessarily limited in Great Britain. Hence it is
-no uncommon sight to see a party of British-trained rock-climbers on an
-easy Swiss rock peak, with the rope in loose, untidy coils, catching in
-jutting out rocks, dragging about loose stones and generally acting as
-a menace to safety. This abuse of the rope is, paradoxically enough,
-the outcome of the undeniable virtues of sure-footedness and steadiness
-that have been learned on the British crags. The fault does not lie in
-the climbers’ incapacity to keep the rope taut, but merely in that,
-trusting to their steadiness, they do not bother to do so. I have
-observed that many of those who err in the handling of the rope are as
-sure-footed as cats.
-
-Route-finding in the Alps, and still more so in the other great
-mountain groups of the world, is a matter of prime importance.
-Before embarking on an expedition in the Alps, the climber first
-makes his choice of mountain, and then, according to the degree of
-difficulty desired, chooses the face or ridge by which to gain the
-summit. This done, he brings all his knowledge of route-finding to
-bear upon the selection of the easiest and safest way up that face
-or ridge. Difficulties are avoided as much as possible. The adoption
-of bull-at-a-gate methods will lead to much loss of time; and time,
-of little consequence in England, is a factor to be reckoned with
-seriously in the Alps. Owing to the limited nature of climbs at
-home, the reverse practice is adopted. One is taught to look for
-difficulties, instead of avoiding them and seeking the line of least
-resistance; and the habit thus engrained is apt to persist when
-the British-trained rock-climber looks for adventure abroad. The
-corollaries are numerous. Those that most concern our purpose are
-that he learns on British crags only to a very limited degree how to
-conserve his energy, build up his powers of endurance or cultivate the
-proper mentality. All these things are acquired only in a school of
-hardships under physical and climatic conditions that are foreign to
-our islands.
-
-Once one accepts the fact that the difference between a mountain and
-a crag is not only one of scale, it will be readily acknowledged
-that he who disports himself on the latter has much to learn and,
-possibly, something to unlearn before he can become a mountaineer in
-the full sense of the word. How many of those who have begun their
-climbing in Great Britain have accomplished anything of note in real
-mountaineering? Rock-climbing is too liable to strangle any innate
-aptitude for mountaineering proper, and to restrict achievement in the
-wider craft to a level of dull mediocrity.
-
-For those whose ambitions do not soar beyond home, the crags and fells
-are a pleasurable playing ground where they may scramble to their
-hearts’ content; to those who have well served their apprenticeship in
-the wider and loftier playground of the Alps, the homeland hills will
-provide useful muscular exercise and plenty of healthy fun; but for
-the beginner who aims at being a true mountaineer, the only safe place
-within easy reach to learn the craft is the Alps.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-On the morning after our ascent of the Grépon, while waiting for the
-Chamonix train, Max and I were comparing with the reality M. Vallot’s
-well-known, panoramic sketch on the stone in front of the Montanvert.
-The first batch of the day’s sightseers had arrived, among them a tall,
-faultlessly garbed young lady, who approached and addressed us.
-
-“Say, are you mountaineers?”--evidently having come to the conclusion
-at the sight of our heavy hobnailed boots and rather tattered clothes.
-
-“Well--yes,” replied my brother. “At least, we have been doing some
-climbing.”
-
-Pointing to the Géant, she inquired:
-
-“Have you climbed that mountain?”
-
-“Yes!”
-
-“And those?” indicating in turn each of the summits of the Rôchefort
-ridge.
-
-“Yes.”
-
-Finally, with outstretched finger towards the Dru and a note of
-challenge in her voice: “And that one?”
-
-“Yes,” answered Max; adding, “we climbed it a few days ago.”
-
-Stepping a pace or two backwards, the tall, young lady very slowly, but
-distinctly, closed the conversation.
-
-“Well, I guess I always knew you English were some story-tellers!”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-THE AIGUILLE DU DRU
-
-
-After our border-line crossing of Mont Blanc, Max and I arrived at
-the Col du Géant on the evening of August 31, 1911. There we met a
-German climber armed with a letter of introduction from Martini, who
-had climbed the Zmutt ridge with us earlier in the season. As our new
-acquaintance considered ice-climbing to be a vicious and unpleasant
-way of indulging in the delights of the mountains, a traverse of
-the Dru was decided upon, in preference to the joys of step-cutting
-on the slippery slopes of the north face of the Verte. Accordingly,
-after sunrise on the following morning, we set out across the Géant
-Glacier towards the Montanvert. Max and I still felt the effects of
-our recent activities and were consequently inclined to take things
-rather easily. Before arriving at the top of the icefall, however,
-our friend’s protests against the slowness of the pace began to take
-effect and stung us into something that was very much the reverse of
-our previous lethargy, with the result that we worried a way through
-the broken icefall with quite a useful turn of speed. Well before
-arriving in the thick of the séracs, a puzzled and rather concerned
-expression had taken the place of the patronising though kindly smile
-with which our companion had blessed the previous labours of his two
-young associates. A little later, he fell a victim to the fact that the
-size of an ice-step is inversely proportional to the velocity of the
-party, and he lost his footing. The rope, however, sufficed to palliate
-the effects of the slip, but was quite unequal to the task of stemming
-the torrent of guttural language which condemned as reckless the speed
-which, after all, merely resulted from the granting of a request! After
-discarding the rope on the gentle slopes of the Mer de Glace, a normal
-rate of progress was once more reverted to, and, long ere arriving at
-the Montanvert, we had all recovered our equanimity.
-
-In the afternoon we left the Montanvert, with three days’ provisions
-and two one-hundred-foot ropes. Max and I, as usual, carried heavy
-knapsacks and consequently found the struggle with the moraines leading
-up towards the Charpoua hut both difficult and unpleasant. Our friend,
-however, bounded on far ahead with the agility of a two-year-old.
-
-We were pleasantly surprised to find that the hut was not in the dirty
-condition so characteristic of the majority of the club-huts in the
-Mont Blanc district, and that it also contained most of those little
-things which go so far towards making life pleasant after a harrowing
-and steep climb in the heat of the afternoon.
-
-At 4 a.m. next morning we left the hut, taking with us, in addition
-to our own two hundred feet of rope, an eighty-foot length belonging
-to the hut and kept there expressly for the use of climbers bound for
-the Dru, a stake of wood, and only two ice-axes. At 6 a.m., after
-having been held up by a rather lengthy bout of step-cutting across
-the head of the Charpoua Glacier, we gained the lower lip of the final
-bergschrund. This proved to be an extremely difficult customer to deal
-with, for the upper lip at its lowest point could only be surmounted
-by cutting up an exceedingly steep ice wall of about thirty feet in
-height. After the first fifteen feet, only one hand could be used for
-cutting, and the work became so severe that a rest was necessary after
-practically each step. Max and I took turns at the work, each doing
-a step whilst the other retired to the level floor of the schrund to
-rest and infuse fresh life into half-frozen fingers. At eight o’clock
-we gained the upper lip, but, deciding that too much time had been lost
-for us to be able to complete the climb that day without running the
-risk of a night out, we drove the wooden stake into the snow and, tying
-a doubled one-hundred-foot length of rope to it, retreated down the ice
-wall and joined our companion, whom we acquainted with our decision to
-retreat, then and there, to the hut.
-
-[Illustration: _The bergschrund below the Dru._
-
-“This proved to be an extremely difficult customer....”
-
-  _Facing page 270._
-]
-
-No time was lost in preparing for the descent, as there was every
-evidence of the head of the Charpoua Glacier being much exposed to
-falling stones. My desire that Max, armed with an axe, should bring
-up the rear of the party was waived in deference to the wishes of
-our companion who assured us that he could hold both of us should
-occasion arise. The small, hastily-hewn steps of the morning had become
-partially effaced by the sun, and a considerable amount of work was
-required to renew them sufficiently well to afford secure footing. Max
-followed me, but after a few steps felt so insecure without an axe that
-he turned round and warned the last man on the rope to be prepared for
-a slip at any moment. Just as I was engaged in cutting a very large and
-deep step which would serve as a belay, I heard a shout from behind
-and, instinctively guessing that a slip had occurred, quickly braced
-myself as firmly as possible against the slope, with the pick end of
-my axe pressed well home against the ice. The jerk came, but it was
-only a mild one, and the strain was easily withstood. Thinking that
-the trouble had now been averted, I was about to look round, when a
-second and savage tug came which almost dragged me out of my steps.
-This is what had happened: Whilst I was engaged in cutting the large
-step, our companion had left the firm footing provided by the level
-floor of the bergschrund to make his way down towards Max. Max had then
-slipped, and the other had not only failed to hold him but was in his
-turn pulled out of his steps. The first pull on the rope was due to the
-checking of Max’s slip; the second, and far worse jerk was caused by
-our companion’s slip down the steep, icy slope for a distance of nearly
-a hundred feet before being held up by the rope. Incidentally, he also
-lost his grip upon his axe; fortunately, it slid down towards Max, who
-had the presence of mind to seize it. Thanks to this useful effort, the
-return of the errant members of the party to their steps was speedily
-effected. At half-past nine we were back at the hut and spent the
-remainder of the day in a series of repasts and sun baths on the great,
-rough, warm slabs near by.
-
-Towards sunset a French climber and two agreeable Chamonix guides
-arrived. Their intention was to traverse the Dru, starting with the
-little Dru first. The leading guide was inclined to be anxious about
-the condition of the bergschrund, but was quite relieved on hearing
-that we had left a stake embedded in the upper lip, which would enable
-them to rope down over the hindrance without difficulty. We also came
-to an agreement whereby axes were exchanged, they undertaking to leave
-our axes at the foot of the rocks of the little Dru, and we to leave
-theirs at the bergschrund on the way up to the big Dru. Thanks to this
-excellent arrangement, we were able to carry out this long rock climb
-without being encumbered by axes.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Photo T. G. B. Forster._
-
-_Where next?_
-
-  _Facing page 272._
-]
-
-On September 3, 1911, at 4 a.m., we roped and left the hut. I led,
-carrying a spare eighty-foot rope; Max followed, and our companion
-brought up the rear, Max and I both being firm believers in what is
-still often considered to be a heresy, namely, that on climbs of
-this sort the “unknown” element of the party should always be the
-last on the ascent, on the principle that it is easier for the dog to
-wag the tail than _vice versa_. Shortly after 5.30 a.m. the upper lip
-of the bergschrund was tackled and easily ascended by means of our
-fixed rope. While the process of cutting steps up the short, steep,
-final slope towards the rocks was going on, Max coiled up this rope
-and strapped it on to his knapsack. This brought the sum total of the
-party’s available rope up to two hundred and eighty feet. On arriving
-at the top of the slope, the problem confronted us as to how to gain a
-footing on the rocks, for a deep, unbridged chasm separated the snow
-from the latter. Finally, I was let down about twenty-five feet into
-the cavernous depths below, and by a pendulum process was able to
-swing across and obtain a somewhat precarious footing on the smooth
-rock. Climbing with no little difficulty up the ice-worn slabs until
-about thirty feet above the others, I found secure standing ground
-on a spacious platform. The others did not trouble to repeat these
-roundabout tactics, but swung straight across on the rope held by me
-and soon joined me on my perch. A few yards more of rather difficult
-climbing led to steep, but broken and easy rocks, over which rapid
-progress was made. Near by on the left, was the somewhat slabby couloir
-which leads down from the col situated immediately to the north of the
-Dru. None of the party had anything more than a very vague idea of the
-best route to be followed, beyond believing that it was unnecessary
-actually to reach this col before traversing to the left on to the
-rocks of the peak proper. We kept, therefore, a sharp look-out for the
-first possibility of crossing the couloir and taking to the rocks on
-the other side.
-
-About two hundred feet below the col such an opportunity presented
-itself. We climbed across the couloir without much difficulty, and
-gained a narrow ledge leading round under an overhanging buttress
-towards the foot of a steep slab. The appearance of the latter
-was sufficiently forbidding to cause one to hesitate and wonder
-whether this could be, after all, the right way; but, as any further
-prospecting would have entailed loss of time, we decided to carry on
-in the hope that things might improve higher up. As a matter of fact,
-although it was not until almost a hundred feet of rope had been run
-out that safe standing ground was found, the ascent of the slab was
-by no means very difficult, even if somewhat sensational. Thence easy
-scrambling led to a broad and well-defined ledge, which seemed to
-run without break from the col to a point almost directly under the
-summit of the Dru. We followed this ledge without meeting with any set
-back. At one point it is interrupted by a deep cleft where we found a
-frayed rope, by means of which one could swing from one side to the
-other. This is evidently the spot known as “La Pendule.” The cleft
-can be crossed without overwhelming difficulty in several places by
-the ordinary methods of climbing, but there is no doubt that swinging
-across by means of the fixed rope does save time. The process, also,
-is quite an amusing one. At a short distance beyond “La Pendule” the
-ledge narrowed down, but at the same time the rocks towering above on
-our right became more and more broken and were furrowed by a series
-of chimneys leading in the direction of the summit ridge. Bearing up
-to the right, we came across an old wooden ladder, possibly a relic
-of Dent’s first ascent. Soon afterwards, on doubling back a few yards
-in the direction of the col, we arrived at the foot of a long and
-wicked-looking chimney, several steps of which appeared to overhang.
-A closer acquaintance with this obstacle, however, was reassuring.
-The chimney was long, and did overhang, but there was such a profusion
-of holds in the warm, firm rock that the ascent almost resembled
-the scaling of a ladder. Above the chimney, an easy scramble over
-huge, rough boulders and broken rocks led on to the ridge. On being
-rejoined by Max, I unroped and walked up over the ridge towards the two
-enormous rocky teeth which form the summit of the big Dru. An attempt
-to gain the summit of the higher tooth from the north failed, but, by
-traversing slightly downwards to the left, I reached the foot of a
-short gully leading up into the gap between the teeth. A few steps from
-this gap placed me on the summit at 10 a.m. The others soon joined me
-and ensconced themselves on the lower tooth, more room being available
-there than on my perch.
-
-[Illustration: “_La Pendule._”
-
-“... one could swing from one side to the other.”]
-
-[Illustration: “... _A rather steep ice slope--the Mur de la Côte_”
-
- (_p. 222_).
-
-  _Facing page 274._
-]
-
-The day was cloudless, and there was not a breath of wind. The view
-towards the northern slopes of the Aiguille sans Nom was striking. As
-if in warning and for our edification, a huge avalanche fell down these
-precipices whilst we were scanning them for a possible line of ascent.
-
-The actual summit rest was cut somewhat short owing to the cramped
-nature of the seating accommodation; but, on the almost level plateau
-from which the cliffs sweep down into the gap between the big and the
-little Dru, we discovered almost sufficient room for the laying out of
-a tennis court. After an unusually excellent, mountaineering apology
-for lunch, I set out to prospect for the best line of descent into
-the gap. At one point, almost directly in line with the two summits
-of the mountain and on the extreme edge of the plateau, there were a
-number of fixed coils of rope hanging round a jutting out rock; but on
-leaning as far forward over the precipice as was possible, it seemed
-to me extremely doubtful whether we had enough rope to enable us to
-descend in safety at this point. Had Max and I been alone, we should
-doubtless have slid down the doubled rope without more ado; with a new
-companion, however, we had serious doubts as to the prudence of this
-method of procedure. It behoved me, therefore, to cast farther around
-for an alternative route where the individual roping down distances
-were not so great. We had heard vague rumours of the existence of a
-so-called “Z” route, but had no notion as to where to look for it.
-Prospecting in the direction of the Grandes Jorasses revealed nothing
-useful, and I turned my attention to that corner of the plateau from
-which the northern precipices of the mountain fall away. Here, a short,
-partially ice-clad gully revealed itself. Faint traces of steps were
-still clearly visible in the ice, and a conveniently-placed boulder
-had a new and serviceable looking sling fastened round it. Not quite
-satisfied that this was the beginning pitch of the sought-for “Z”
-route, I went back to fetch a rope and to enlist Max’s help in making
-a more intimate exploration of the chimney and its hidden secrets.
-Securely held by Max, I descended the gully for about fifty feet, and
-was then able, just before the gully faded away into thin air above one
-of the most appalling precipices I have ever looked down, to step over
-on to a small platform situated directly under a huge, overhanging nose
-of rock. Crossing this platform in a couple of steps, a clear view of
-the rocks leading down into the gap presented itself, and showed that
-one, or at most two, comparatively short descents on the doubled rope
-would solve any remaining difficulties.
-
-Returning to the foot of the gully, I yelled up the good news to Max,
-who went off to fetch our friend and the knapsacks. After sending down
-the latter to be stowed away on the platform, Max fixed a doubled rope
-to serve as an extra support for our friend’s descent of the chimney.
-Securely held by Max’s sturdy grip, and with a little judicious
-pulling from below, he was soon down. Max followed, giving a perfect
-exhibition of how this sort of thing should be done, and was on the
-platform and pulling in the doubled rope almost before our comrade had
-realised that he was on terra firma. Twice again we repeated these
-roping down tactics over a series of steep slabs, which, however,
-could have been descended by ordinary methods of climbing without too
-much difficulty. After the last use of the doubled rope, I went on
-with a view to saving time by seeking out the rest of the descent into
-the gap. This lower part of the wall was easily negotiated by means
-of a series of well-defined ledges leading to a final short chimney
-immediately above the gap. After passing up this information to Max, I
-walked over the broad ridge built up of huge blocks of granite, towards
-the summit of the little Dru, and arrived there at 12.30 p.m., just as
-the party with whom we had exchanged axes earlier on in the morning
-were leaving for the big Dru. After carefully shepherding our companion
-down the last chimney above the gap, Max grew tired of slow and careful
-methods and completed the descent in great style by a bold glissade
-which landed him on all fours in a tangle of rope on the broad back of
-the gap--much to our concern, who mistook his voluntarily rapid descent
-for the result of a slip. A few minutes later we were reunited on the
-spacious and flat summit of the little Dru.
-
-The view I suppose must have been glorious, but, candidly, I remember
-little more than the sinking feeling caused by an inspection of the
-extraordinary precipices into which the mountain falls away to the
-north; and even this keen impression soon had its edge taken off by the
-enjoyment of the result of Max’s noble efforts with a tin of peaches,
-condensed milk and snow.
-
-At 2 p.m. the pleasant sojourn came to an end, and we embarked on the
-descent. The way down was shrouded in complete mystery though, on the
-whole, the general opinion of the party inclined to the view that
-a bee-line for the Montanvert would give the correct direction, at
-all events for the first part of the descent. In any case we felt no
-anxiety, for one can do much with plenty of rope. Accordingly, taking
-the Montanvert as the objective, we set off, and the fun began at
-once. Immediately after leaving the summit, we had to resort to the
-doubled rope in order to descend a long and steep chimney which ended
-on a ledge of most ungenerous proportions. Our friend here provided a
-little thrill. He was half-way down the chimney, with still practically
-forty feet to go, when something apparently went wrong, for he turned a
-somersault in mid-air and finished up the descent head downwards, with
-feet waving frantically in the air and his felt hat floating gracefully
-down over the precipices. Max had him secure on the climbing rope,
-however, and so he was never in any danger.
-
-It was almost impossible to obtain anything like a clear survey of
-the ground ahead, for the general steepness was certainly excessive,
-and numerous inconvenient bulges and overhangs hid far too much from
-view. After a short consultation, Max and I confessed to one another
-that neither liked the appearance of things in general, but as there
-were no eager volunteers for climbing back up the chimney that had
-just been roped down, it was decided that we should take the chances
-of carrying straight on. Steep chimney after steep chimney followed,
-and not only did we see no signs of previous descents or ascents, but
-the ground became increasingly difficult. Finally, when we had arrived
-at a point level with and slightly to the south of the enormous,
-slate-grey patch below the summit, which is so prominent a feature
-of the Dru when seen from the Montanvert, all possibility of further
-descent seemed precluded, and we were forced to realise that the
-outlook was somewhat critical. To our left we could see the ridge
-over which the correct line of descent must certainly have led, and
-we were, therefore, faced with the question of either gaining this
-ridge by a most unwholesome-looking traverse, or by retreating back to
-the summit. The latter alternative could only be regarded as a very
-forlorn hope, and not to be attempted unless the traverse should prove
-impracticable. The chief drawback of the traverse was the fact that we
-would be able to give each other little or no help or support until the
-worst was over. However, it was no good wasting time in indecision. I
-have forgotten many of the details of the traverse, but at first it led
-across almost vertical slabs by means of the minutest of cracks and
-ledges. The climbing was most difficult and, owing to almost complete
-lack of belays, somewhat risky. But our companion rose brilliantly to
-the occasion and tackled the difficult and exposed slabs in a steady,
-sure-footed style and with a complete absence of nervousness. Before
-gaining the ridge, the work became less serious. Comparatively broad
-and broken ledges separated one tier of slabs from another, and easy
-ground finally led round on to the ridge at a well-marked step or
-depression a short distance below a prominent _gendarme_ which, I
-believe, is known in Chamonix as “le Poisson.”
-
-[Illustration: _On the summit of the little Dru._
-
-  _Facing page 278._
-]
-
-It was now about 4.30 p.m., and much valuable time had been lost
-through this somewhat sensational variation of the descent. It was
-still far from easy, even on the ridge, to survey the further line
-of descent for any distance ahead. I therefore took off the rope and
-went on to prospect, leaving the others to follow. Several times I
-got on to the wrong track, but being alone and, therefore, climbing
-more rapidly, was able to rectify such errors before the other two
-arrived. Lower down, an _impasse_ in the ridge, in the shape of a bold
-_gendarme_ followed by a clean and almost vertical cliff, held me up
-until Max’s arrival. The best means of circumventing the obstacle
-appeared to lie in the descent of a vertical chimney which bore a close
-resemblance to Mummery’s crack on the Grépon. It led to a platform on
-the northern side of the ridge. We fixed a double rope, and I proceeded
-down. A large chock-stone was jammed in about half-way down the
-chimney, but as there was no real necessity for making use of it as a
-hold, and as it could be easily avoided, I did not attempt to dislodge
-it, preferring to let sleeping dogs lie. I sent up word to the other
-two, however, to leave it alone lest it should prove to be dangerously
-loose. On arriving on the platform, I let go the doubled rope and,
-while the second man was preparing to descend, cast round for further
-means of escape. The only available route led along a narrow, sloping
-ledge running towards the ridge from a point about four feet below the
-edge of the platform on which I stood. With the greatest care, most
-emphatically urged upon me by the sheerness and depth of the precipices
-below, I lowered myself on to the ledge, still retaining a grip in the
-numerous small cracks with which the platform was fissured. By taking a
-couple of steps and leaning well outwards, it was possible to see round
-and beyond an intervening corner of rock towards easy, though exposed,
-ground over which the ridge could be regained. Before climbing farther,
-I looked up towards Max to give him this information. Our companion was
-nearly half-way down the chimney and almost level with the chock-stone.
-I was just repeating my warning not to make use of this possibly
-insecure hold, when it came hurtling down through space and, crashing
-on to the ledge, broke into two pieces. One of them, in bounding out
-over the precipice, narrowly missed my head, but the other was more
-perfect in its aim and dealt me a clean, knock-out blow on the chest.
-The shock caused me to lose hold with my left foot and hand. By means
-of the kind of effort that one is able to exert when it comes to making
-a bid for life, I was otherwise able to retain my balance. I struggled
-on to the platform and lay there absolutely winded, totally unable to
-answer any inquiries.
-
-The rest of the route down the ridge promised to be less complicated.
-Our companion descended first, whilst I, still sorrowing over bruised
-ribs, was tied in the middle of the rope and tenderly nursed off the
-platform and round the ledge. Our original order of march was, however,
-_pour cause_, soon reverted to. But the day’s troubles were nearly
-over. An opportunity of descending from the ridge towards the Charpoua
-Glacier revealed itself, and, scrambling over huge glacier-worn slabs
-broken up by numerous ledges and chimneys, we presently arrived at the
-point, a few feet above the ice, where the other party had left our
-axes.
-
-Of the French climbers we could as yet see nothing, but surmised that
-they must by now be somewhere in the neighbourhood of the bergschrund
-at the head of the Charpoua Glacier. While we were speculating as to
-their exact whereabouts, a tremendous avalanche of stones plunged down
-from the direction of the Pic sans Nom, swept the rocks immediately
-above the bergschrund, and crashed over this and the upper slopes of
-the Charpoua Glacier towards the icefall below which we stood. So great
-was the volume and impetus of this avalanche, that for some moments
-we expected to see the stones fall even beyond our standpoint. Having
-the gravest fears as to the safety of the other party, we gave vent to
-a series of hefty yells, and were finally reassured by a faint reply
-coming from the rocks just above those over which the avalanche had
-swept. In continuation of their good fortune, this party later on
-found that our axes and the stake of wood, that we had driven into the
-snow above the bergschrund, had not been touched by any of the falling
-stones, though several had gone very near.
-
-The sun had set, and, as we were without a lantern, there was no time
-to be lost in crossing the glacier. The unfriendly, threatening aspect
-of the séracs, below which we threaded our way between numerous blocks
-of ice and crevasses, also urged the necessity for speed. Once on the
-far side of the glacier, the danger from falling ice was past, and a
-brief ascent over a diminutive bergschrund and gentle snow slope led
-on to the summit of the hump that separates the two tongues of the
-Charpoua Glacier, and upon which, somewhat lower down, stands the
-Charpoua hut. Shortly after 7 p.m., we entered the welcome refuge.
-
-The other party rolled up soon after 8 p.m. Lured on towards the
-Montanvert by visions of civilised luxury and comfort, they hardly
-found time to gulp down the cups of tea we proffered. But the visions
-proved false, for the local knowledge and lanterns of the guides
-fizzled out in the midst of the maze of crevasses of the Mer de Glace,
-and it was not until daybreak that they entered the Montanvert.
-
-We, on the other hand, slept soundly, and in the fresh hours of morning
-strolled over to the Montanvert, where we arrived in good time for
-lunch.
-
-As a climb, the traverse of the Dru is magnificent. Unlike the Grépon
-or the Requin, the Aiguille du Dru is every inch a mountain. The rock
-varies from bad to good; to get to the rock, good ice work is called
-for; and the route-finding is far from simple. Though essentially
-regarded only as a rock-climb, it is really an all-round, first-class
-expedition.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-TOWARDS MOUNT EVEREST
-
-
-“To make a determined effort, with every available resource, to reach
-the summit” were the instructions with which the 1922 Mount Everest
-expedition left England. The personnel was as follows:--
-
-  Brigadier-General the Hon. C. G. Bruce, C.B., M.V.O.,
-    commander-in-chief;
-
-  Lieut.-Colonel E. L. Strutt, D.S.O., second-in-command;
-
-  Dr. T. G. Longstaff, M.D., chief medical officer and naturalist;
-
-  Dr. A. W. Wakefield, medical officer;
-
-  Captain J. G. Bruce, M.C. (a cousin }
-    of General Bruce),                }
-                                      } transport officers; and
-  Mr. Crawford, I.C.S., and           }
-                                      }
-  Captain Morris,                     }
-
-  Captain J. B. Noel, official photographer and kinematographer.
-
-The climbing party consisted of Mr. G. H. Leigh-Mallory, Major H.
-Morshead, Major E. F. Norton, who was also artist and naturalist, Mr.
-T. H. Somervell, also artist and medical officer, and myself, also
-in charge of the oxygen equipment and responsible for its use on the
-mountain. We had, in addition, four Ghurka non-commissioned officers,
-a Tibetan interpreter by name Karma Paul, and about fifty Nepalese
-porters and camp cooks.
-
-The party assembled in Darjeeling, and two detachments moved off
-towards the end of March to a _rendezvous_ at Phari Dzong, the first
-considerable village on the line of march through Tibet proper. The
-third detachment, consisting of Crawford and myself, had to remain
-behind in Darjeeling to await the arrival of the belated oxygen
-cylinders. It was not until April 2, a week later, that the apparatus
-turned up, and we were able to proceed on our way.
-
-Our route lay through the independent state of Sikkim, at first a
-country of sub-tropical, or even tropical climate and luxuriant jungle
-vegetation. Cool, shady, woodland streams and pools provided welcome
-interludes in the hot and often dusty journeys. From the day we left
-Darjeeling, I took photographs of scenes and happenings and did my
-developing at the end of each day’s march. As I had to keep within a
-definite baggage allowance, my photographic outfit was of the simplest.
-It comprised a quarter-plate, roll-film camera fitted with a Zeiss
-Tessar lens, a vest-pocket Kodak, two Kodak daylight developing tanks
-with the requisite developer and fixing powders, and spools, sufficient
-for fifteen hundred exposures, sealed in air-tight tins. Simple though
-the equipment was, it meant my having to do without certain luxuries;
-but I have always considered the sacrifice well worth the while, as the
-photographic results obtained were, on the whole, pleasing.
-
-Already on the third march out from Darjeeling, an ominous rattling was
-heard coming from the boxes containing the oxygen cylinders. At the
-first opportunity, the mules were off-loaded and the boxes opened, a
-rather lengthy proceeding as we had no tools save our pocket-knives.
-An examination of the contents showed that, even in this short space
-of time, the rubbing of the cylinders against each other had caused an
-appreciable amount of wear and tear--a state of affairs that called
-for immediate remedy. Otherwise, sooner or later, a cylinder would have
-been weakened to such an extent as to be able no longer to withstand
-the pressure of the gas it contained; and the resulting explosion,
-apart from the possibility of its leading to loss of, or injury to,
-personnel, would have completely discredited oxygen which was already
-by no means universally favoured by the members of the expedition.
-Fortunately, we were able to purchase a large supply of string and
-cloth which we wrapped round the cylinders. These were then repacked
-in their boxes in such a manner that metal could not come into contact
-with metal.
-
-On April 8, in a snowstorm, we crossed the Jelep la, the lofty pass
-on the boundary between Sikkim and Tibet, and that evening arrived at
-the dâk bungalow at Yatung at the entrance to the Chumbi Valley, where
-we passed our first night in Tibet. At the bungalow, we met the late
-Sir Henry Hayden and his guide, César Cosson (who lost their lives
-on the Finsteraarhorn in the Bernese Oberland in August, 1923). Like
-ourselves, they were bound for the interior. Crawford and I continued
-our journey on the following day, anxious to push on and try to catch
-up the main body of the expedition; and, on arriving at Phari Dzong on
-the 10th, we learned that they were only three marches ahead. After
-three more days of hard marching across those vast, arid Tibetan
-plains, through intense cold and in the teeth of a wind that whipped up
-clouds of dust and sand into our faces, we rejoined our companions at
-Kampa Dzong. On the first night out from Phari we camped in the open.
-On the second, the nuns of the Buddhist convent of Ta-tsang afforded
-us hospitality. Crawford and I passed the night in the roofless temple
-chamber. Some of the nuns spread out my sleeping-bag on the altar,
-and there I slept, awakened occasionally by the cold. A brilliant
-moon shone down and lit up my weird abode. The dessicated remains of
-a magnificent billy-goat hanging above the altar grinned down at me,
-and prayer wheels surrounded me on every side. Next day, the 13th, we
-were in camp at Kampa Dzong. In view of our somewhat travel-stained
-appearance, the General decided to postpone the departure of the
-expedition until the 15th, and so afford us a much-needed rest. Since
-leaving Darjeeling, we had been marching hard without a single off-day.
-
-From Kampa Dzong onwards, the yak replaced the mule as our transport
-animal, owing to the difficulty of providing suitable fodder for the
-latter. What the camel is to the desert, the yak is to Tibet--an animal
-indispensable for human life in the country. The yak’s chief form of
-nourishment is a very coarse grass, which grows in the marshy bottoms
-of the valleys fed by the streams that flow down from the northern
-slopes of the Himalayas. He relishes and thrives on this fodder which
-apparently no other animal can palate. In appearance, the yak is a
-hefty, beefy animal, somewhat resembling the Indian buffalo; but he
-has a coat of long, shaggy wool to protect him against the cold and
-wind. The Tibetans, who are forbidden by their religion to take the
-life of wild animals, are permitted to slaughter domestic animals for
-food. Thus the yak, in addition to being the national beast of burden,
-supplies the inhabitants of the country with milk, butter, cheese,
-meat, leather, wool and, last but not least, provides them, in the
-almost complete absence of trees, with their staple fuel, dried yak
-dung.
-
-The pace of the mules was about four miles an hour, but that of the
-yak is a most moderate one of less than two. To hustle a yak serves
-no useful purpose; he simply gets annoyed, and proceeds to throw off
-his load preparatory to running amok; and anything a yak does is
-very thoroughly done. The proper way to drive yaks seems to be to let
-them open out into extended order, line abreast, with the drivers
-walking behind. While on the march, it is up to the drivers to whistle
-soft, lullaby airs. If for lack of moisture on the lips or for lack
-of breath, the whistling should cease for any length of time, the
-yak objects and there is usually trouble. When treated in conformity
-with his wishes, however, the yak proves a most reliable transport
-animal, capable of carrying heavy loads for as much as ten to twelve
-hours on end at his normal, steady pace, irrespective of the nature or
-difficulty of the ground. When he comes to a river, he does not wait to
-be off-loaded, but plunges in without hesitation and wades across as if
-in his element.
-
-Owing to the difficulty of obtaining a sufficient supply of yaks for
-such a large caravan as ours, some of our baggage was carried by
-donkeys. These little animals were extraordinarily game and tough,
-but on one occasion, when our way lay across an extensive area of
-quicksands, the nature of the ground had them thoroughly beat. With
-their tiny hooves, the poor little donkeys would, at almost every step,
-sink deeply into the quagmire; sometimes so deeply that little more
-than nostrils, eyes, ears and tail remained above the slime. In such
-cases the customary procedure was as follows: first of all, the loads
-were removed, after which three drivers stationed themselves at all
-three corners of the donkey, one at each ear and the third at the tail.
-Then it was simply a case of heave-ho! until the animal emerged with a
-noise resembling that of the withdrawing of a cork from a bottle.
-
-From the European point of view the Tibetans have one great failing
-which might well, considering the rigorous climatic conditions, be
-deemed both excusable and incurable. If one ever wishes to talk with a
-Tibetan, it is advisable to stand on his windward side. A noble Tibetan
-informed me with great pride that he had had two baths, one on the day
-of his birth and the other on the day of his wedding. Having neglected
-to take the elementary precaution, I found it somewhat hard to credit
-his statement. In this matter of physical cleanliness, the Tibetan
-priests are even worse offenders than the laity; doubtless because
-they do not marry. As two-fifths of the able-bodied population of the
-country follow a religious calling, it will be readily understood that
-the odour of sanctity is all-pervading. Only once did I see a Tibetan
-having a bath. It was at Shekar Dzong, on the return journey from Mount
-Everest. The day was bright and sunny and all but windless. Disporting
-himself in the waters of a pool, quite close to the village, was a
-Tibetan boy, stark naked. An interested crowd of his fellow-countrymen
-looked on. On closer investigation it transpired that the boy was the
-village idiot and, therefore, hardly responsible for his actions.
-I would, in fairness, add that during our sojourn in Tibet our own
-ablutions, when judged by western standards, were by no means too
-thorough. We usually limited ourselves to washing the head and the arms
-as far as the elbows. The tooth brush was, of course, plied regularly
-by all and sundry, and it was this operation and that of shaving
-that afforded most amusement to the Tibetan onlookers who invariably
-supervised our morning toilet.
-
-Apart from their one rather penetrating drawback, the Tibetans are
-a most likeable people. Their love for and pride in their country,
-harsh though it is, is great and sincere. They are cheerful and
-good-humoured, keen and willing workers, honourable in carrying out
-their bargains and scrupulously honest. During our travels in Tibet,
-though we did not bother to keep close guard over all our stores and
-belongings, we never lost so much as a single ration biscuit through
-theft. They are most kind to their children. Unlike so many Europeans,
-they do not make the mistake of talking down to them; but, from the
-time their children can speak, they are treated with much the same
-deference as is shown to grown-ups. The priests form the ruling class
-in the country and are also the educated class, the monasteries and
-similar priestly institutions being the seats of learning. The religion
-of Tibet is Buddhism.
-
-We had the good fortune to meet with a Tibetan soldier, resplendent
-in a Ghurka hat and a bandolier of beautifully polished ammunition
-which actually fitted the obsolete pattern of British rifle he so
-proudly sported. Some of the cartridges were innocent of powder, and
-the condition of many of the percussion caps was such as to guarantee
-misfires. A fine, handsome figure of a man, he was, like all his
-fellow-countrymen, courteous and friendly. War, a great war, was being
-waged between Tibet and China, but he was now on his way home to look
-after his crops. The Chinaman also had crops to tend; but in the
-autumn, when the harvest had been safely gathered in, he and his enemy
-were to meet once more and continue the warfare. An ideal arrangement!
-
-To the average layman, the oxygen apparatus with which we were
-supplied was perhaps slightly complicated. Being responsible both for
-the apparatus and for seeing that all the climbing members of the
-expedition were conversant with its use, I instituted a series of
-oxygen drills. These drills were deservedly popular, being held, as a
-rule, each evening at the end of a long day’s march, when everybody was
-feeling particularly fit and vigorous.
-
-On the 24th, we arrived at Shekar Dzong, the largest village we
-visited in Tibet. Indeed, one might almost dignify it by the name of
-“town,” with its four thousand inhabitants living in the clusters of
-white-walled houses that cling to the steep sides of a rocky pinnacle
-rising out of the plain. Here, owing to the necessity for changing
-the transport animals, we were forced to rest for several days. It
-is not to be supposed that such rest meant idleness. The General was
-particularly busy interviewing the Jongpen, that is, governor, of
-Shekar Dzong, regarding transport arrangements for the next stage of
-the journey to the Base Camp at the foot of Everest. The transport
-officers were kept busy taking stock of kit and stores. After attending
-to the minor ills and ailments of the European and Indian members of
-the expedition, the medical officers, headed by Dr. Longstaff, busied
-themselves in strengthening the bonds of friendship between Tibet and
-Great Britain by ministering to the needs of sick Tibetans. Apart
-from the daily oxygen drill which never lasted very long, my time was
-practically my own and was spent for the most part on photography and
-sight-seeing.
-
-We left Shekar Dzong on April 27, and two days later crossed the Pangla
-Pass, about 17,000 feet in height, whence we obtained a good view of
-Mount Everest and the neighbouring peaks. Everest towered head and
-shoulders above its surroundings, a dark, irregular, forbidding-looking
-rocky pyramid. I have never seen the mountain to better advantage. On
-the 30th we pitched camp in the Rongbuk Valley, at the head of which
-Everest stands. Hard by the camp was a large monastery presided over
-by a very venerable old abbot who received us in audience. He was of
-a lively and intelligent curiosity and asked many questions. Why were
-we so eager to get to the summit of Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of
-Snows? For so the Tibetans beautifully name this highest of mountains.
-Why spend so much money, endure hardships, and face the dangers he
-was sure had to be faced, merely for the sake of standing on the top
-of this loftiest of great peaks? General Bruce, as usual, rose to the
-occasion and explained with quite undeniable logic that, as the summit
-of Everest is the highest point on earth, so is it the nearest point on
-earth to heaven; and was it not meet that we should desire to approach
-as closely as possible to heaven during our lifetime? This explanation,
-which contains much more than a germ of the truth, satisfied the
-reverend old gentleman completely. Henceforward he did everything
-within his very wide powers to further the interests of the expedition.
-
-[Illustration: _On the first day out from Phari Dzong._
-
-_The mountain is Chomulhari (24,400 feet)._]
-
-[Illustration: _Shekar Dzong._
-
-  _Facing page 290._
-]
-
-The next day’s march was destined to be our last towards the Base Camp,
-the position of which was determined by its being the point beyond
-which we could make no further progress with animal transport. A short
-distance below the end of the Rongbuk Glacier which flows down from
-Mount Everest into the valley, our tents were pitched (May 1) on a
-little level patch of ground close under the steep slopes of a moraine.
-We had fondly hoped that this moraine would shelter our camp from the
-wind. But later, bitter experience was to teach us that the wind blows
-not only up and down and across the Rongbuk Valley, but in any and all
-other directions that perversity can make possible. I have always felt
-rather sorry for the General, who spent the next seven weeks of his
-existence at the Base Camp. He, indeed, knew something about wind by
-the time his stay had come to an end.
-
-No time was to be lost on arriving at the Base Camp, for the East
-Rongbuk Glacier, over which the North Col, the real starting-point of
-the climb on Everest itself, was to be approached, had not yet been
-explored. On May 2, Colonel Strutt, Norton and I went up into this
-valley and, quite close to the end of the glacier, selected a suitable
-site for a first advanced camp. This first brief reconnaissance was
-followed by a lengthier one carried out by Longstaff, Morshead and
-Norton under the leadership of Colonel Strutt. This party successfully
-explored the hitherto unknown regions of the East Rongbuk Glacier for
-a suitable way up into the great bay that lies at the head of the
-glacier and is enclosed by Mount Everest, the North Col and the North
-Peak. They also selected suitable sites for the more advanced camps.
-It was found necessary to pitch three such camps between the Base and
-the North Col. They were known as Camp I (17,500 ft.), Camp II (19,500
-ft.), and Camp III (21,000 ft.), and soon the transport officers with
-the porters were busy establishing and provisioning them.
-
-For the time being I remained at the Base. A mild form of dysentery,
-which had at one time or another claimed as its victims most of the
-other members of the expedition, now took hold of me, and I was some
-days in shaking off its effects. By May 10, the work on the advanced
-camps had progressed so well that Mallory and Somervell were able to
-leave the Base in order to establish a camp on the North Col, and to
-make an attempt to climb Everest without the use of oxygen.
-
-It may be wondered why, in view of our instructions, oxygen was not
-to be employed. One body of scientific opinion was most emphatic in
-its view that without the assistance of a supply of oxygen carried
-by the climbers it would be impossible to reach the summit of Mount
-Everest. Scientists, however, do not always agree amongst themselves.
-An almost equally strong body of scientific opinion declared that the
-weight of any useful supply of oxygen carried by the climbers would
-be so great as to counterbalance any advantages that might accrue
-from the oxygen itself, and that, therefore, oxygen would not only
-not be of assistance, but would actually be a grave hindrance to the
-climber. Perhaps I may anticipate here by stating that the second
-attempt on Everest in 1922 disproved beyond all shadow of doubt the
-tenets of the second body of opinion, and, what is more important,
-proved no less conclusively that Everest can positively be climbed
-by men carrying a suitable supply of oxygen. So far we have no like
-positive confirmation, either from climbing experience or scientific
-research, of the possibility of attaining the summit of Everest
-without oxygen. Personally I feel certain it never will be climbed
-without oxygen. But there existed another force of oxygen antagonists,
-largely unscientific, who were willing enough to admit that oxygen
-might, indeed, have its uses, but condemned it on the ground that
-its employment was unsporting and, therefore, un-British. The line
-of reasoning of these anti-oxygenists is somewhat hard to follow,
-and is inconsistent with their adoption of other scientific measures
-which render mountaineering less exacting to the human frame. For
-instance, they do not hesitate to conserve their animal heat by wearing
-specially warm clothing; they do not deny the “legitimacy,” from the
-mountaineering point of view, of the thermos flask; they fear no
-adverse criticism when they doctor up their insides with special heat
-and energy-giving foods and stimulants; from the sun’s ultra-violet
-rays and the wind’s bitter cold they do not scruple to protect their
-eyes by wearing Crookes’ anti-glare glasses; even the use of caffeïne
-to supply a little more “buck” to a worn-out body is not cavilled at.
-In fine, it may justly be supposed that if science could only provide
-oxygen in the form of tablets, the words “artificial,” “illegitimate,”
-“unsportsmanlike,” or “un-British” would no longer be applicable to its
-use as an aid to climbing Everest. It was written on high authority,
-and I read a copy of the article in question at the Base Camp, that
-“this (the possible failure of the climbers to tolerate the restraint
-of the oxygen apparatus) would be a good thing, because it seems to us
-quite as important to discover how high a man can climb without oxygen
-as to get to a specified point, even the highest summit of the world,
-in conditions so artificial that they can never become ‘legitimate’
-mountaineering.” This sentence may be taken as indicative of the change
-in objective which was now becoming apparent amongst the members of the
-expedition. Instead of the aim being to climb Mount Everest with every
-resource at our disposal, the opponents of oxygen, of whom the writer
-of the above quotation presumably is, or was, one, had so successfully
-worked upon the minds of the members of the expedition as to induce
-them to entertain a fresh objective, namely to see how far they could
-climb without the aid of oxygen. It were pleasant to think that the
-writer who could thus acclaim possible failure and, in advocating a new
-objective, destroy the singleness of purpose of the expedition, was not
-a mountaineer. And so it came about that, by the time we reached the
-Base Camp, I found myself almost alone in my faith in oxygen. It is
-true that I had had the advantage of personal teaching from Professor
-Dreyer who had demonstrated, by experiments carried out upon myself,
-what a powerful weapon oxygen could be when rightly used. This faith in
-the lessons of my genial master was fully justified by later events.
-But “faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers”; in the mountains,
-the tragedy is that the odds are generally on the “unfaith.” It
-has been suggested that a keen sense of rivalry existed between the
-exponents of climbing with and without oxygen. As far as I am aware,
-this was not so. Despite conflicting ideas on this subject, complete
-harmony of feeling prevailed amongst us--too valuable a thing to be
-disturbed by the friction into which, under the circumstances, a sense
-of rivalry might well have degenerated.
-
-[Illustration: _Mount Everest and the Base Camp._]
-
-[Illustration: _Camp II._
-
-  _Facing page 294._
-]
-
-However, it was arranged that, after Mallory and Somervell had made
-their attack, a second attempt should be carried out by Norton and
-myself. But a few days later, on May 14, Strutt, Morshead and Norton
-left to join up with Mallory and Somervell to make an onslaught in
-force, but without oxygen. Hitherto, I had been sanguine in the extreme
-about getting to the top, but when I saw the last mountaineers of the
-expedition leave the Base Camp, my hopes fell low. Any attempt I could
-now make upon Mount Everest would have to be carried out with untrained
-climbers as my companions; for I felt certain that, before they could
-be fit for another assault, the men of the first party would require,
-not merely a few days, but weeks, to recuperate from the effects of
-their initial effort.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-MOUNT EVEREST
-
-
-During my stay at the Base Camp my time was not really wasted. A
-study of Everest and of its meteorological conditions, photography,
-overhauling of equipment and experiments with oxygen kept me fully
-occupied.
-
-I wonder why it is that so many mountain travellers seem to lose all
-sense of proportion when they behold for the first time hitherto
-unknown ranges and peaks. Perhaps it is that they do not happen to
-possess the critical faculty of abiding by facts, and tend to describe
-what they expect rather than what they see. Whatever the reason, the
-ugliest, sometimes even the most insignificant of sights, provided
-it be but strange or novel, induces their pen to trail along in a
-pæon of praise, and the new mountain vision is elevated to all that
-is awe-inspiring, magnificent, beautiful, far excelling any mountain
-hitherto known to man. Thus we find that earlier explorers of Mount
-Everest have enhanced its wonders out of all proportion to the reality.
-It is as if its quality of height, the mere fact that Mount Everest
-is over 29,000 feet in altitude and the highest mountain in the
-world, has prejudiced their judgment of its other qualities. A closer
-analysis of this very question of height may prove edifying. A mountain
-has two heights, absolute and relative. The former represents its
-altitude above sea-level, the latter its height above the immediate
-surroundings, and is really the only altitude with which the eye can
-be concerned. It is only when mountains rise from the sea, as they do
-in Corsica, that absolute and relative altitudes are one and the same
-thing. 29,002 feet is the accepted absolute altitude of Mount Everest;
-the relative altitude, that is, the actual height that presents itself
-to the eye of the beholder, is arrived at by deducting some 16,500
-to 17,000 feet. The suggestion frequently made to me that the sight
-of Mount Everest must dwarf into insignificance anything I have ever
-seen in the Alps, has invariably met with my decided denial. When seen
-from the north--the only aspect of the mountain with which we of the
-recent expedition are acquainted--Mount Everest appears as an uncouth,
-well-nigh shapeless mass partially blocking the end of the Rongbuk
-Valley, itself surely one of the most formless and ugly of mountain
-valleys. The impression of the grand or the prodigious which the view
-of a mountain makes upon one depends largely on the height to which the
-summit rears itself above the lower limit of its glaciers or eternal
-snows. Mont Blanc is nearly 16,000 feet high, and its glaciers descend
-to within 4,000 feet of sea-level--a vertical zone of nearly 12,000
-feet of perpetual ice and snow. On the north, Mount Everest rises to a
-height of 12,500 feet above the Base Camp, which was situated a little
-below the end of the Rongbuk Glacier--a vertical zone of 12,500 feet of
-perpetual ice and snow. From the point of view of extent to which it
-is glaciated, therefore, Mont Blanc suffers little when compared with
-Everest. But the distance between the observer and the object observed
-is a determining factor in the impression of size and grandeur which a
-mountain picture leaves on the mind. Mont Blanc can be seen in all its
-magnificence at a distance of some five to six miles. On its northern
-side, Mount Everest can most advantageously be seen from the Base
-Camp, eleven miles away. Thus, when no scale of absolute measurement
-is present, Mont Blanc appears nearly twice as huge to the eye as
-Mount Everest. So much for “prodigiousness” or “grandeur.” From the
-point of view of beauty, there can be no comparison between the two
-mountains. Mont Blanc, seen from the north, is a wonderful, glistening
-mass of snowy domes, piled one against the other in ever-increasing
-altitude to a beautifully-proportioned and well-balanced whole. No
-beauty or symmetry of form can be read out of the ponderous, ungainly,
-ill-proportioned lump whose horizontal stratification lines produce
-an appearance of almost comical squatness and which carries, as if
-by accident, on its western extremity a little carelessly truncated
-cone to serve as a summit. For such is Mount Everest as seen from
-the Base Camp. This infelicity of form is further forced upon the
-eye by the fact that it is far from being shared by all the other
-mountains surrounding the head of the Rongbuk Valley. One of these,
-indeed, though only about 21,000 feet in height, presented its snowy
-northern flank to the gaze of the observer at the Base Camp; and in
-the delicately moulded flutings and folds of its tremendously abrupt
-snow slopes was contained such beauty, such magnificence, and such
-dainty grace of symmetry and poise as I have seldom, if ever, seen in a
-mountain.
-
-It goes without saying that the weather was a thing most anxiously
-inquired into by all members of the expedition. During my fifteen
-days at the Base, I lost no opportunity of studying its vagaries and
-attempting to assign meanings to the different portents. During the
-entire month of May, there were only two fine days, and those were
-separated from each other by a wide interval of time. Both succeeded
-heavy snowstorms which had whitened the rocks of Mount Everest. In
-applying the term “fine weather” in the case of these mountain regions,
-it is necessary to be somewhat more critical than one would ordinarily
-be in the Alps, where cloudless sky almost invariably means favourable
-weather. In the case of Mount Everest, it is essential not only that
-the sky be more or less cloudless, but that the force of the wind be so
-small as to be insufficient to blow up and tear away streamers of snow
-dust from the ridges. These streamers betoken the presence of a wind of
-such strength that it cannot but seriously handicap the climber.
-
-On the last stage of the journey, from Shekar Dzong to the Base Camp,
-the developing of the photographs I had taken _en route_ had fallen
-into arrears, and I now endeavoured to make these good. In spite of
-the simple methods adopted, developing was not always an easy matter.
-During development of the films, the solutions contained in the tanks
-had to be maintained at the proper temperature. Often the only way to
-accomplish this was to retire into one’s sleeping-bag with the tin
-or tins, as the case might be, as bed-fellows. The washing of the
-fixed and developed films was a simple matter. The Rongbuk stream ran
-close by. It is true that, in the biting winds which swept through
-the valley, frequent dipping of the hands into ice-cold water was far
-from pleasant. The most difficult part of the whole process of the
-production of the negative was the drying of the washed films. This
-had to be done at a temperature above the freezing-point of water,
-owing to the fact that, if the films once froze, frost marks formed in
-the emulsion. However, by the simple expedient of closing the tent as
-hermetically as possible, and remaining inside it with two or three
-candles burning during the drying process, the temperature could be
-kept above freezing.
-
-At last the day came when I was able to think of advancing. Time there
-was none to lose. The weather outlook was by no means improving.
-Indeed, there was every indication of the monsoon breaking sooner than
-we had expected. Although there were no more climbers left at the
-Base Camp, the whole climbing strength of the expedition, with the
-exception of myself, being in the first party, my choice of climbing
-companions was easy enough. First of all, there was Captain Geoffrey
-Bruce. Tall, of athletic build, strong, endowed with a great fund
-of mental energy--an invaluable asset on ventures of this kind--and
-cheerful in any situation, he was, in spite of the fact that he had
-never indulged in mountaineering, an ideal companion. Believing two to
-be too weak a party to carry out the cut-and-dried plan of campaign
-that I had already formulated at the back of my mind, a third member
-was selected in the person of Lance-Corporal Tejbir, the most promising
-of the Ghurka non-commissioned officers attached to the expedition. He
-was a splendid specimen of humanity, standing fully six feet in his
-stockings, broad-shouldered, deep-chested and altogether well-knit.
-Above all things, the slightest provocation brought a wide grin to
-Tejbir’s pleasant face, even in the depths of adversity. Like Geoffrey
-Bruce, he had never climbed before; but I have noticed in the course of
-my experience that the man who grins most, is usually the one who goes
-farthest in the mountains--and perhaps also elsewhere. What porters we
-could, Geoffrey Bruce and I selected at the Base Camp. The remainder of
-those who were to assist in pitching and provisioning our highest camps
-were selected later, on the way up to and at Camp III.
-
-I would like to place on record here that, whatever small measure of
-success Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and I eventually achieved, was almost
-entirely due to the loyal and gallant efforts with which these splendid
-little men backed us up on every possible occasion. No praise can
-be too great for the exemplary and cheerful devotion they displayed
-towards us throughout. These porters came for the most part from
-Nepal, the native state lying to the south of Mount Everest. Being of
-Mongolian extraction, they have beardless faces. One of the greatest
-honours that one can confer upon them is to call them by some endearing
-nickname. One I called “Josephine-Anne-Marie,” another “Dorothy” and
-yet another “Trudi”[16]; this last being suggested by his proper
-name, Tergio. Several of these men, Trudi and Dorothy among them,
-accomplished the extraordinary feat of climbing on three separate
-occasions to the tremendous altitude of 25,500 feet.
-
-On May 16, we left the Base for Camp I. Wakefield was accompanying us
-as far as Camp III, in order to give us a clean bill of health from
-there onwards. The way up to this camp was wholly delightful, and led
-for the most part over the tremendous moraines flanking the right bank
-of the Rongbuk Glacier. Everest was always before us, and the nearer we
-approached the entrance of the East Rongbuk Valley, the more was our
-view extended over the mountains to the west, nearly all of which are
-far more satisfying to the eye than Mount Everest. The day was fine.
-The only clouds were of the peculiar type, with sharp-cut edges, which
-I had learnt to associate with more or less settled weather in this
-part of the world. Camp I was pitched just inside the entrance to the
-East Rongbuk Valley and quite close to the East Rongbuk Glacier. The
-following day was spent in attending to matters of equipment and also
-in ski-ing in the snow-filled bed of the East Rongbuk stream just below
-the camp. The porters were intensely keen on this amusement and, in
-spite of numerous tosses, were the aptest of pupils.
-
-Thanks to the careful reconnaissance carried out by Strutt’s party, the
-way towards Camp II was a simple matter. For the most part we marched
-up over the stone-strewn surface of the East Rongbuk Glacier. Here and
-there the glacier was much broken up, but, by keeping to the moraines
-running down it, good headway was made. The views towards the peaks
-in that great chain which runs down from the North Peak towards the
-Base Camp were most striking. Point 22,580, in particular, is a most
-graceful mountain with a delightfully cornice-crested, aspiring summit.
-Clouds obscured Mount Everest, but for one brief spell they parted,
-and we saw, peeping down at us, the lofty summit, now looking far
-higher than it ever had before. Shortly before reaching Camp II, direct
-progress was barred by an enormous ice wall. The obstacle, however, was
-easily turned, and soon afterwards we arrived in camp.
-
-The tents were pitched on a layer of stones lying upon the glacier, at
-an altitude of about 19,500 feet above sea-level. It was well sheltered
-from the wind, but unfortunately received very little sun; a great
-disadvantage, because life in the shade was hardly bearable outside
-one’s sleeping-bag. A large, frozen-over pond of glacier water lay
-within a few yards of the camp, and beyond it, within easy reach, were
-some magnificent ice slopes. The sight of these gave me the idea that
-it would be a good plan to give Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and those of the
-porters, whom we had selected to join our party, their first lessons in
-the proper use of the ice-axe and climbing irons. A suitable slope was
-soon found. At its foot lay the frozen-over pool. In a very short time
-my enthusiastic pupils were hard at it, and within half an hour many
-of them were so good that one might have thought they had been used to
-this sort of work all their lives. Tejbir, however, on one occasion
-chose to rely too much on his sure-footedness, with the result that
-he slipped, slithered down the slope, broke through the frozen surface
-of the water and got thoroughly ducked. With the instincts of the
-born mountaineer, he retained a grasp upon his ice-axe. We hauled him
-out at once, but as the external air temperature was well below zero,
-Tejbir soon discovered that he was encased in armour plate. We hustled
-him over to the camp and stripped him of his frozen clothing; and
-for the next two hours all that was to be seen of Tejbir was a broad
-grin surrounded by many blankets as he sat under shelter and thought
-things over. The problem of drying his clothes, though it was far too
-cold for the ice in them to melt, was quite a simple affair. At this
-great altitude, the air is so dry and so rarefied that ice evaporates
-at least as readily as water does at sea-level on a fine summer’s
-day--a phenomenon to which may be attributed the diminutive size of
-the mountain streams draining the extensive glaciers in this region of
-the earth. These streams are almost entirely supplied by water caused
-by the friction of the glaciers flowing over their rocky beds. Surface
-water due to melting of surface ice, the main source of supply of
-glacier streams in the Alps, does not exist on the northern slopes of
-Everest at this time of the year. Thus to dry Tejbir’s frozen garments
-one had only to apply a little logic and scientific training. Take, for
-instance, his trousers. These were first of all hammered out flat and
-then placed in a vertical position against a little wall of stones. The
-moment they collapsed and fell to the ground, it was obvious that their
-stiffening of ice had disappeared and they were, therefore, dry. Who,
-after this brilliant example, would gainsay the uses of science?
-
-[Illustration: “_A suitable slope was soon found._”
-
-  _Facing page 302._
-]
-
-The original intention had been to give my party at least one day’s
-rest at Camp II, with the object of assisting, as far as possible,
-the important process of acclimatisation. But on our march up to the
-camp, everyone had felt so remarkably fit, and I myself had walked so
-freely and easily, that, as Camp II was by no means too comfortable, we
-thought it better to make for Camp III. At 8 a.m., therefore, on May 19
-we set off. At first, by keeping to the moraine, we were able to avoid
-having to seek a way through the broken up ice of the glacier. But all
-too soon the stones came to an end, and we had to take to the icefall.
-First appearances suggested the possibility of heavy step-cutting, but,
-as a matter of fact, things turned out extraordinarily well, and it
-was only very occasionally that we had to ply the axe. Here and there
-a frozen-over pool of water lying at the foot of some crevasse had to
-be circumvented. Although the ice was in most cases thick, it could
-not be relied upon to bear one’s weight, as the water underneath had
-often ebbed away and was no longer in contact with the ice. A ducking
-could not be risked now; we were so far away from the comforts of a
-camp that the consequences might have proved more than unpleasant. It
-was sheer joy, this climbing up and down or walking along the troughs
-of crevasses, circumventing and occasionally scaling huge séracs of
-fantastic shapes and showing the most wonderful range of colours from
-clear, deep blue, through green to a pure, opaque white which in
-turn merged into a crystal-clear transparency. Unlike the séracs of
-European glaciers, there was nothing to be feared from these great
-giants. Séracs in Switzerland are formed by the flow of glaciers
-over some marked step or irregularity in their beds; but here, north
-of Mount Everest, other causes seemed to be at work. Perhaps side
-pressure caused by tributary glaciers flowing into the main glacier,
-perhaps wind currents and evaporation of ice are the deciding factors.
-In any case, the séracs of the East Rongbuk Glacier stood proudly
-upon firm, wide bases and showed no rottenness or decay to menace
-those marching amongst them. Eventually we emerged from the broken up
-part of the glacier and found ourselves on the still snow-free but
-almost uncrevassed, gently-rising upper portion, over which progress
-developed into little more than a rather wearisome trudge. The North
-Peak was now to be seen at its best--a bold, heavily-built Colossus,
-above the eastern ridge of which appeared the summit of Everest. The
-mountains to the east were not attractive. We were now so close to them
-that it was evident that they are for the most part little more than
-glorified scree slopes rising from uninteresting-looking glaciers.
-The heat on this part of the day’s march was considerable. There was
-little or no wind, but, contrary to the experiences related by many
-Himalayan explorers, few of us were overcome by that form of heat
-lassitude usually associated with such weather conditions in these high
-altitudes. Indeed, most of us, including the porters, who carried loads
-averaging some forty pounds each, plodded along at a good, steady pace,
-which was certainly no slower than it would have been in the Alps, say,
-on the Aletsch Glacier at noon under a summer sun. It may, perhaps, be
-worthy of mention that since leaving the Base Camp, perspiration had
-been unknown to us. No matter how hot the sun, how still the air, or
-how great the exertion, any perspiration exuded by the skin was, owing
-to the dryness and the reduced pressure of the atmosphere, evaporated
-before one became aware of its presence.
-
-[Illustration: _Amid the séracs of the East Rongbuk Glacier._]
-
-[Illustration: _Crossing a trough on the East Rongbuk Glacier._
-
-  _Facing page 304._
-]
-
-At an altitude of about 20,500 feet, some crevasses intersected the now
-no longer snow-free surface of the glacier, and we put on the rope.
-Soon after midday we rounded the end of the east ridge of the North
-Peak and hove in sight of Camp III (21,000 ft.). Like Camp II, it
-was pitched on a layer of stones resting on the East Rongbuk Glacier.
-We found Strutt in residence, and he gave us the news. That morning
-Mallory, Morshead, Norton and Somervell had left for the North Col
-prior to their attempt on Mount Everest. High up on a terrace above the
-steep snow slopes immediately below the Col, we could see a cluster of
-tiny black dots--the tents of the North Col Camp. On the skyline, in
-the col itself, were seen more little black dots, but moving. Evidently
-the first party were out taking a constitutional.
-
-For the next few days Camp III was to serve as my party’s advance
-base camp. Here it was that we overhauled our stores and equipment,
-especially the oxygen outfit. With feelings akin to dismay, suspicions
-that I had already formed at Camp I were confirmed; not one of the
-ten oxygen apparatus was usable. They had suffered so severely in the
-course of our travels across Tibet that most of the soldered metal
-joints leaked; washers had become so dry that the other joints could no
-longer be made gastight, and several of the gauges were out of action.
-Then again, neither of the two types of masks with which we were
-supplied could be used. The first of these, the so-called “economiser”
-pattern, by means of an arrangement of valves, allowed oxygen flowing
-from the apparatus to mix with the air on inhalation, but stored it
-up and thus prevented waste on exhalation of the breath. It was found
-that, owing to the resistance imposed by these valves upon breathing,
-the mask could not be used, the strain thrown upon the lungs being too
-great. The second type of mask had really been supplied for use in
-the event of the “economiser” failing to give satisfactory service.
-It was wasteful of oxygen because the gas supply was continuous, no
-matter whether the climber were inhaling or exhaling; thus during
-the periods of exhalation the oxygen issuing from the apparatus was
-wholly wasted. However, we found that this mask suffered from, amongst
-others, the same defect as the first; the resistance imposed upon
-the free passage of the breath was too much for the lungs. It must
-not be forgotten that the whole oxygen outfit--masks, apparatus,
-containers--was more or less experimental; the conditions under
-which it was to be utilised were practically unknown, and, in the
-circumstances, the design was the best that science could produce.
-
-[Illustration: _Mount Everest from Camp III._
-
-  _Facing page 306._
-]
-
-While waiting at Darjeeling for the arrival of the apparatus, I had
-turned the question of masks over in my mind and had formed the germ
-of an idea for another pattern which I intended to construct in the
-event of the others proving unsatisfactory. The wherewithal to make
-the new mask had been easily procured. A few toy football bladders and
-glass “T” tubes were all I needed. With these materials and odd bits
-of rubber tubing, I was able to construct a new mask, if indeed it
-could be so termed, by means of which oxygen could be mixed with the
-air inhaled by the climber without loss on exhalation and, at the same
-time, without any appreciable extra work being thrown upon the lungs.
-The new device, as so many useful devices are, was almost ridiculously
-simple. A rubber tube connected the oxygen delivery orifice of the
-apparatus with the mouth of the climber. Into this rubber tube was
-let a glass “T” tube, the third opening of which was connected to a
-football bladder. On inhaling, the oxygen flowed through the rubber
-tube into the mouth of the climber, there mixing with the indrawn
-air. On exhaling, the climber had to close the end of the tube in his
-mouth by biting on it, and thus prevent the flow and consequent waste
-of oxygen. During this latter operation the oxygen, which was still
-flowing from the apparatus, was stored up in the expanding football
-bladder. On re-inhaling, the climber simply released the pressure of
-his teeth upon the tube, and the bladder, collapsing slowly, gently
-forced the oxygen into his mouth where it mixed with the inhaled air.
-The correct closing and opening of the rubber tube by alternately
-biting and releasing the pressure of the teeth upon it became, after a
-few minutes’ practice, a perfectly automatic, subconscious process. The
-success of this simple mask pleased me greatly; without it, no really
-effective use could have been made of our oxygen supplies. Oxygen would
-have been misjudged as useless, and the solution of the problem of
-climbing Mount Everest would have been as distant as ever.
-
-Camp III soon became the scene of much activity. Examination of the
-oxygen cylinders revealed that their contents were still intact; so
-we thereupon set to work with hacksaws, pliers, soldering iron and so
-forth to repair the damaged apparatus. Eventually two of these were
-made to function satisfactorily and, later on, two more. Owing to lack
-of accommodation, the work had to be carried out in the open, so that
-our hours of labour were limited to those of sunshine; in the shade,
-the cold was so intense that the handling of metal with bare hands
-was impracticable. Once the work was interrupted by a snowstorm, and,
-while waiting for the fresh snow covering up workshop, instruments,
-apparatus and all to evaporate, Geoffrey Bruce and I put on skis and
-pottered around on the glacier--quite an exhilarating pastime at these
-altitudes. Curiously enough, it was only on snow lying in the sun that
-good running could be had. I found that in the shade the snow was
-so cold as to exert a sticky, dragging effect upon the skis, almost
-similar to that which one might expect with sand. At nights the
-temperature occasionally fell very low; 62° F. of frost were recorded.
-
-[Illustration: SKETCH MAP OF MOUNT EVEREST.
-
-Approximate scale, 1 inch to a mile. All heights in feet.]
-
-In order to test thoroughly the repaired apparatus, we went for a
-number of trial trips. One of these, over to the Rapiu la, a depression
-at the foot of the north-east ridge of Everest, was of particular
-interest to me. The valleys to the south of this pass were filled
-with great, rolling banks of cloud which almost wholly concealed the
-view. But the north-east ridge of Everest as far as the Shoulder was
-quite clear, and to my amazement I at once saw that this ridge would
-probably afford an excellent, perhaps even the best, line of approach
-to the Shoulder. I remembered now that Mr. Harold Raeburn, the most
-experienced climber of the 1921 expedition, had already pronounced upon
-this ridge as affording a practicable route to the summit. We have only
-to compare its advantages and disadvantages with those of the North Col
-route up the north ridge to see how sound the judgment of this veteran
-pioneer was. Take first of all the latter line of ascent. To the
-observer from Camp III, it is obvious that the approach to the North
-Col, if a line of ascent which is to be safe under any conditions is to
-be taken, particularly after falls of fresh snow, must be a laborious
-one, calling for an experienced ice-man with a wide knowledge of snow
-conditions. On the north ridge as far as the Shoulder, it is equally
-clear to the observer, both from the base and from Camp III, that the
-climber must be continually exposed to the full blast of the prevailing
-west wind--more appropriately, perhaps, termed gale--which, combined
-with intense cold, must prove an even more formidable enemy than mere
-altitude or rarefaction of the atmosphere. On the north-east ridge,
-on the other hand, the way from the Rapiu la right up to the Shoulder
-is perfectly straightforward, no matter what the conditions of the
-snow may be. Immediately below the Shoulder are some prominent rocky
-teeth. They look rather terrible, but from the Rapiu la, even had I not
-already known that the stratification of the mountain dips towards the
-north, I could see that they might be turned without serious difficulty
-and the Shoulder gained. But the supreme advantage of this route lies
-in the fact that it is practically always free from wind. Largely owing
-to its direction, the wind on the north side of the mountain fails
-to sweep over the north-east ridge as it does over the north, and,
-furthermore, it is more or less balanced by the up-draught from the
-south. In view of the facts, however, that the camp on the North Col
-had already been established, and that the first party had, as far as
-we knew, even established a camp much higher up on the north ridge, the
-recognition of Raeburn’s great discovery had come too late.
-
-Snow fell on the night of May 20-21, and ushered in one of the rare
-windless days of that season. Towards sunset, while scanning the north
-ridge of Everest for signs of the first climbing party, we made out
-four dark specks descending the great, broad snow slopes of the lower
-section of the north ridge. They were the four members of the first
-climbing party making their way back to the North Col after their
-attempt upon the mountain. It appeared to us that they were more or
-less exhausted, so on the morning of the 22nd, acting on orders by
-Colonel Strutt, who, as eldest man, had with utter unselfishness stood
-down from the first party, Geoffrey Bruce, Wakefield, Tejbir and
-I, together with eight porters, set out for the North Col with the
-triple object of rendering assistance to the first climbing party, of
-replenishing stores in the North Col Camp and of giving the oxygen
-apparatus a final, thorough try-out. A longish tramp across the
-gently-rising basin at the head of the East Rongbuk Glacier led to the
-foot of the steep snow and ice slopes up which one must mount to gain
-the col. The first climbing party were making their way down towards
-us, and we eventually met them a short distance above the foot of the
-final slopes. Most of them seemed practically at the end of their
-tether and were hardly able to speak coherently. Norton, weather-beaten
-and with obvious traces of having undergone immense strain, gave us a
-brief account of their climb. On the night of the 20th they had camped
-at a height of 25,000 feet, and next morning, Morshead having already
-suffered too much from the effects of cold and altitude to be able to
-go farther, Norton, Mallory and Somervell had climbed on until, at 2.30
-p.m. on the 21st, they had reached the enormous altitude of 26,800 feet
-above sea-level as then indicated by the aneroid they carried.[17]
-
-There they had to confess themselves beaten, and return. Snow had
-fallen on the night of the 20th, but they had been blessed with a calm
-day for their climb. Retracing their steps, they had rejoined Morshead
-in their high camp, and all four had continued the descent to the
-North Col camp, where they had passed the night. Such, in brief, is
-the history of the first attempt on Mount Everest. We gave them food
-and drink, then, leaving Dr. Wakefield to see them safely down to Camp
-III, Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and I, together with our porters, went on
-towards the col. The slopes below the col were laden with fresh snow,
-probably most of it wind-borne and drifted. Not liking the conditions,
-and in order to make sure of running no risks of loosening snow-shields
-or avalanches, I avoided zig-zagging across doubtful slopes by working
-straight up, cutting steps where necessary. Thus we ascended in safety
-as far as the foot of the last, almost vertical ice cliff above which
-lay the camp. This cliff would hardly have yielded to a frontal attack,
-but I found that a safe traverse across a steep snow slope on the left
-could be made by keeping to the snow-buried, lower lip of a diminutive
-crack in the ice. Shortly before the crack came to an end, and with
-it the security against the risk of treading loose a snow-shield, it
-became possible to strike directly up towards the camp; not, however,
-without some slight indication of demur on the part of a few of the
-porters, who could not understand why, instead of choosing an obviously
-easy slope, I should deliberately choose a more difficult way up a
-much steeper one. But they followed cheerfully enough, and I think
-that some of them at least saw method in my madness. Three hours after
-setting out from Camp III, we arrived at the North Col Camp. Of this
-time forty-five minutes had fallen to halts, chiefly our meeting with
-the first party. The difference in height between the two camps is
-about 2,000 feet. We had, therefore, ascended at the rate of nearly one
-thousand feet an hour, quite a good average rate of progression even
-in the Alps. We had used oxygen. If such had been necessary, this were
-testimony enough of its advantages.
-
-Arrived at the North Col, we dumped a supply of oxygen cylinders,
-food and other tackle and then sat down to look round and thoroughly
-enjoy things. The porters were amazed at the pace which we had been
-able to maintain, despite the fact that our loads were, on the whole,
-far heavier than theirs; and for the first time they began to take a
-lively interest in the oxygen apparatus. Geoffrey Bruce was called upon
-to explain its workings. He told them that I could climb well in the
-Alps because the “English air” about those mountains suited me. But
-Himalayan air disagreed with me, and I had, therefore, brought out a
-supply of the more vigorous air. Just to show them how strong “English
-air” is, I turned a stream of oxygen from my apparatus on to the
-glowing end of a cigarette, which thereupon flared up and spluttered
-with a brilliant white light. A better audience for this perhaps most
-beautiful of all laboratory experiments, carried out at 23,000 feet
-above sea-level, could not have been desired.
-
-The view from the col is magnificent. Everest shows up to far greater
-advantage from this point than from the Base Camp. It still lacks
-beauty, but, owing to its nearness, had gained enormously, almost
-overwhelmingly, in size. We could trace out almost every inch of the
-way we hoped soon to follow to the summit. As the North Col is the
-depression on the ridge connecting Everest and the North Peak, we had
-only to turn round to see the latter, less immense but of far more
-pleasing appearance than its massive neighbour. The most remarkable
-feature of the view, however, was the jumble of séracs and great ice
-cliffs perched just above the camp. The untrained observer would,
-doubtless, have thought these unstable and a menace to the existence of
-the little tents; it need hardly be said that these would never have
-been pitched upon a terrace exposed to the dangers of falling ice;
-mountaineers are not quite so foolish and foolhardy as many people are
-inclined to believe.
-
-That afternoon we all returned to Camp III. On the journey home we
-halted frequently, taking in all two dozen photographs. And yet,
-in less than fifty minutes after leaving the col, we were back in
-Camp III. All possible doubts as to the great advantages of oxygen,
-even when administered by means of the rather experimental and bulky
-apparatus with which we were supplied, were now at an end.
-
-On arriving in camp, we found the four members of the first party much
-restored in health. They had indeed performed a wonderful feat in
-reaching an altitude of nearly two thousand five hundred feet above
-the previous world’s record for high climbing, established by the
-Duke of the Abruzzi in 1909. But they had not escaped unscathed; all
-had suffered, to a greater or less extent, from frost-bite. Morshead’s
-fingers and toes were in a woeful condition, blue-black and covered
-with immense blisters. On the 23rd all four, together with Colonel
-Strutt, left for the Base Camp, and succeeded in reaching their
-destination that evening.
-
-[Illustration: _The North Peak and the North Col Camp._
-
-  _Facing page 314._
-]
-
-In the meantime we completed our preparations, and on the 24th Geoffrey
-Bruce, Tejbir and I, accompanied by ten porters, went up to the North
-Col. With us was Captain Noel, whom we had rigged out with an oxygen
-apparatus--a new convert to the true faith. Apart from the question of
-altitude, the camp in the North Col was the most comfortable of all,
-being well sheltered from the wind. As soon as the sun set, however,
-the cold became intense, and after a somewhat early evening meal we
-crawled into our sleeping-bags. In spite of the fact that the tents
-were pitched on snow, we passed a fair night.
-
-Next morning we were up betimes; but not too early for the porters,
-who were as keen as ourselves on setting to work. At 8 a.m. they
-had breakfasted, loaded up, and started off towards the Shoulder of
-Everest. Knowing that with oxygen there would be no difficulty in
-overhauling them, we waited in camp until 9.30 a.m., busying ourselves
-the while in putting the finishing touches to our preparations and in
-making the best of breakfast. Both this and the preceding evening meal
-were rather meagre, the stock of provisions at the North Col being
-one permitting neither of waste nor over-consumption. Before gaining
-the long, broad snow ridge leading up towards the Shoulder, we had
-to make our way across a series of large crevasses intersecting the
-summit snows of the col. They gave no trouble, however, a number of
-different routes being made possible by an abundance of good snow
-bridges. The suggestion of dragging a wooden ladder all the way from
-India up to this spot, in order to negotiate an impassable crevasse or
-ice cliff, has been seriously advocated. Surely the adoption of such a
-stratagem is justifiable only in the case of the novice, or one whose
-mountaineering training has taught him to seek out difficulties in
-the mountains, instead of circumventing them with a steady eye on the
-ultimate goal. Also, in view of the fact that there are still doubts
-as to the morality or otherwise of employing oxygen, it were better
-that the use of artificial aids such as ladders, poles and what-not be
-deprecated.
-
-Just before gaining the foot of the snow ridge, we came upon one of
-the porters sitting on the floor of a snowed-up crevasse. His strength
-had failed him, but his comrades had divided up his load amongst
-themselves, and he had now settled down to await their return. He was
-quite comfortable and well sheltered from the wind. So with parting
-injunctions not to move off before the return of his comrades, we left
-him basking in the sun, and carried on. The lower section of the snow
-ridge is not steep, and, furthermore, by keeping a little to the right
-of the actual crest, we were able to make good headway over stones
-where the rock of the mountain joins the snow of the ridge. We drew
-level with the porters at an altitude of nearly 24,500 feet, but halted
-only for a few brief moments while I took some photographs. Further
-delay was inadvisable. One of those extraordinarily rapid changes in
-the weather, for which Mount Everest is now so notorious, could be
-seen approaching. With the porters following and doing their utmost to
-keep pace, we climbed on steadily. Shortly before coming to the end
-of the snow ridge, we had to cut steps up a steep snow slope. I made
-them large and close together in order that the porters could not only
-mount easily but also descend in perfect safety. As a matter of
-fact, I might have contented myself with cutting the smallest of steps.
-Every single man in our party, sahib and porter alike, was working
-away as if he were a born mountaineer, showing splendid balance and
-self-confidence.
-
-[Illustration: _The North Peak from an altitude of nearly 24,500 feet
-on Mount Everest._
-
-_The arrows point to the North Col Camp._
-
-  _Facing page 316._
-]
-
-The weather had broken by the time the rocks above the snow ridge had
-been gained. We were at an altitude of about 25,000 feet. The wind was
-whirling snowflakes past us. We climbed on, however, because from Camp
-III I had detected, at a height of about 26,500 feet, a suitable site
-for our intended high camp. But by the time a height of 25,500 feet
-had been reached, the storm had become so threatening that all idea of
-further progress had, for the time being, to be renounced. To persist
-in going on in the face of this break in the weather would have meant
-running the porters, who had to make their way back to the North Col
-that afternoon, most unjustifiably into danger. This was not to be
-thought of; for I was responsible for the safety of these smiling,
-willing men, who placed absolute confidence in the sahib whom they
-served so well.
-
-It was anything but a cheerful spot in which to pitch camp. But though
-I climbed some two hundred feet higher, nothing more suitable was to
-be found. The leeside of the ridge was bare of any possible camping
-ground, and, as a wind is always felt more severely a little below
-and on the windward side of a ridge than on the crest of the ridge
-itself, I elected to camp right on the very backbone, on a little
-ledge overlooking the tremendous precipices falling away to the East
-Rongbuk and Rongbuk Glaciers, now over four thousand feet below. As
-soon as we had sent the porters scurrying down towards the safety of
-the North Col, Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and I looked to see that the
-guy-ropes holding down the tent were quite secure, then gathered up
-our sleeping-bags and provisions and crawled into the tent. After
-taking off our boots, all the undressing that was practicable, we crept
-into the sleeping-bags. It was bitterly cold, and, as the exposure to
-wind and storm which we had already undergone had severely chilled
-us, we huddled up together as closely as possible for the sake of the
-preservation of mutual warmth. The storm without was now in full blast,
-and it was snowing hard. Although we did our best to block up all
-apertures in the tent walls, a thick, white pall of fine, powdery snow
-soon covered us. Much of it insinuated its way into sleeping-bags and
-through our clothing on to our skin, there causing acute discomfort.
-Towards evening we set about preparing a meal. With the help of
-solidified spirit, snow was melted and tea brewed. It was far from
-being hot, for at this altitude water boils at such a low temperature
-that one can immerse the hand in it without fear of scalding; but, such
-as it was, the drink imparted some small measure of comfort to our
-chilled bodies. After sunset, when we would fain have slept or at least
-rested, the storm rose to a veritable hurricane and kept us occupied
-for the next eighteen hours. During the whole of this period, we had to
-remain alert and vigilant. To sit down and meditate quietly over what
-our attempt on the mountain would bring forth was out of the question.
-Terrific gusts tore at the tent, and occasionally the wind would force
-its way underneath the sewn-in ground-sheet and lift it up at one side
-or the other. When this happened, our combined efforts were needed to
-hold the ground-sheet down, for we knew that, once the wind got a good
-hold upon it, the tent would belly out like a sail, and nothing would
-save it from stripping away from its moorings and being blown, with
-us inside, over the precipice on to the East Rongbuk Glacier. By one
-o’clock on the morning of the 26th, the gale was at its height. The
-wild flapping of the canvas made a noise like that of machine-gun fire,
-and, what with this and the shrieking and howling of the gale round our
-tent, it was well-nigh impossible to converse with each other except
-by shouting, mouth to ear. Later on came interludes of comparative
-lull succeeded by outbursts even more furious than ever. Some of the
-guy-ropes had broken or had worked loose, and we had to take it in
-turns to go outside the tent and endeavour to straighten things up. To
-work in the open for more than three or four minutes at a stretch was
-impossible, so profound was the exhaustion induced by even this brief
-exposure to the fierce and bitterly cold wind.
-
-A cheerless dawn broke. The snow had ceased falling, but the wind
-howled and hurried with unabated vigour. At eight o’clock, on the
-morning of May 26, it showed signs of subsiding. It was but the rousing
-of false hopes, for half an hour later it had returned with greater
-energy than ever. With almost incredible fury it tore at our tent,
-and once again we had to take it in turns to go outside and tighten
-up guy-ropes. These little excursions showed, beyond all possible
-doubt, that until the storm had diminished there could be no question
-either of advance or retreat to the North Col Camp. No human being
-could survive more than a few minutes’ exposure to a gale of such fury
-coupled with so intense a cold. To add to our discomfort, a great hole
-was cut in the windward panel of the tent by a stone, and the flaps
-of the door were stripped of their fastenings. Fortunately, however,
-everybody was remarkably cheerful.
-
-At one o’clock in the afternoon of the 26th, just as we were beginning
-to feel rather irritated at the rough treatment which Everest had
-hitherto so generously doled out to us, respite came. The blustering
-gale dropped to nothing more than a stiff breeze--the sort of thing
-against which one can walk comfortably if one only leans sufficiently
-far forward into it. This was our first opportunity to return to the
-North Col; but we decided to stay where we were for the rest of the day
-and the ensuing night, and on the following morning make an early start
-and climb the mountain.
-
-The one fly in the ointment was that our provisions were practically
-at an end. Reasons for this shortage in food supplies are soon given.
-For one thing, we had never intended to spend more than one night in
-the high camp and had, therefore brought provisions for only one night,
-and even these had been measured out on an extremely niggardly scale.
-The majority of Himalayan experts had assured us time and again that it
-would (1) be absolutely impossible for a human being to survive a night
-spent at an altitude such as we had now attained (25,500 ft.), and
-that (2) at such an altitude one would be totally unable to eat owing
-to absolute lack of appetite. On the other hand, sound, scientific
-opinion emanating from Professor Dreyer had not only not prophesied
-either of these contingencies, but had, indeed, definitely warned me
-that oxygen would increase the appetite, irrespective of altitude. I
-was now bitterly to regret that Professor Dreyer’s warning had been
-swamped from my memory by the flood of the other assurances set out
-above. I well remember how, on that second night in our high camp, I
-fervently wished that one or two of those who had voiced such heresies
-had been available; we were ravenously hungry, even, I think, to the
-point of cannibalism! However, thanks to the fact that there still
-remained to us some cigarettes, the time passed well enough. Apart
-from its comforting influence, cigarette smoking incidentally exerts a
-most beneficial effect upon respiration at high altitudes. I noticed
-in a very marked fashion that unless I kept my mind on the question of
-breathing and made of it a voluntary process instead of the involuntary
-one it normally is, I suffered from lack of air and consequent feeling
-of suffocation. To recover from this feeling, it was necessary to
-force the lungs to work more quickly than they would of their own
-accord. There is a physiological explanation of this phenomenon. The
-amount of carbon dioxide normally present in the blood is, at high
-altitudes, largely removed from the system owing to the enormous volume
-of air which it is necessary to inhale in order to obtain a sufficient
-supply of atmospheric oxygen for the re-oxidation of the venous blood.
-Carbon dioxide serves to stimulate the nerve centre controlling the
-process of involuntary breathing. Lack of carbon dioxide results in
-this nerve centre being no longer stimulated, and, if suffocation is
-to be avoided, involuntary breathing has to be replaced by voluntary
-breathing, a process which in time throws such strain upon the mind
-and powers of concentration as to preclude all possibility of sleep.
-Both Geoffrey Bruce and Tejbir had likewise observed the annoying
-necessity of having to concentrate continuously on breathing. But after
-the first few deep inhalations of cigarette smoke, we discovered that
-it was possible to resort once more to normal involuntary breathing.
-Evidently something in the smoke took the place of the carbon dioxide
-in which the blood was deficient, and acted as a nerve stimulant. The
-beneficial effect of a cigarette lasted for as much as three hours. As
-luck would have it, we had with us a fair supply which lasted well into
-the afternoon of the 26th.
-
-We were quite a merry little party that afternoon as we gathered round
-a scanty meal cooked with the last of our fuel, and then prepared to
-settle down for another night. Towards 6 p.m. I heard voices outside
-the tent, but thought I must be dreaming. When Geoffrey Bruce, however,
-started up at the sounds, I knew that someone must be without. Six
-porters, headed by that indomitable little fellow Tergio, clustered
-round the door. They brought thermos flasks of warm tea provided by
-the thoughtful Noel. These splendid men had, of their own accord, left
-the North Col that afternoon as soon as the storm had abated, and
-made the tremendous journey up to our camp just to assure themselves
-of our well-being. This is but one example of the many acts of brave,
-unselfish devotion performed by the porters of the 1922 expedition.
-Tergio, whose light-hearted gaiety, ready laughter and merrily
-twinkling eyes, whose high courage, boundless energy and perseverance
-had especially endeared him to me, now lies buried in the cold snows of
-the North Col. He will never be forgotten; I should like to climb with
-him again. The porters expected us to return with them, and needed no
-little persuasion before leaving us.
-
-The second night in the high camp did not begin well. We were exhausted
-from our previous experiences and lack of food. Provoked, perhaps,
-by my labours outside the tent, a dead, numbing cold was creeping
-up my limbs; a sensation that I had only once before felt, and to
-the seriousness of which I was fully aware. Inquiry elicited the
-information that my companions were undergoing the same unpleasant
-experiences. Like a heaven-sent inspiration came the idea of trying the
-effect of oxygen. Previously we had used oxygen only while actually
-climbing, and, on arriving at our high camp, had dumped the apparatus
-outside the tent. Now hauling in one apparatus together with a supply
-of cylinders, we took doses all round, giving the action the air of
-a joke. Tejbir took his medicine without much interest; but as he
-inhaled, I saw with relief that his face brightened up. The effect of
-the oxygen on Geoffrey Bruce was particularly visible in his rapid
-change of expression; the hitherto drawn, anxious look on his face
-gave place to a more normal one. The result on myself was no less
-marvellous; almost at once I felt the painful, prickling, tingling
-sensation, due to the returning circulation of the blood, as the lost
-warmth slowly came back to my limbs. We connected up the apparatus so
-that all could breathe a small quantity throughout the night. There is
-no doubt whatsoever that oxygen saved our lives that night; without
-it, in our well-nigh exhausted and famished condition, we would have
-succumbed to the cold.
-
-Before daybreak we were stirring. It was necessary to dress, that is,
-put on our boots--a much lengthier operation than it sounds. By taking
-mine to bed with me, I had contrived to keep them fairly soft and
-supple, so that a quarter of an hour’s striving and tugging sufficed
-to get them on. But the others had neglected to nurse theirs, with the
-result that the uppers were hard-frozen and completely out of shape.
-It took us an hour to soften and remould them by holding them over
-lighted candles. Shortly after six o’clock, we assembled outside. No
-time had been wasted over breakfast; there was none. The first rays of
-the sun had just touched our tent when we shouldered our loads and set
-off. What with oxygen apparatus, cameras and other necessary odds and
-ends, Bruce and I each carried more than forty pounds. Tejbir, with two
-extra cylinders of oxygen, shouldered a burden of about fifty pounds.
-My scheme was that Tejbir should accompany us as far as the Shoulder,
-where we would relieve him of his load and send him back. The weather
-was clear, and the only clouds in the sky, though undoubtedly of the
-wrong type, seemed too far off to presage evil. A fresh wind cut across
-the ridge, and the cold was, as usual, intense. Keeping to the ridge,
-and making straight for the Shoulder, we mounted rapidly. But very soon
-the cold began to have its effect on Tejbir’s sturdy constitution,
-already weakened by starvation and hardship. At an altitude of 26,000
-feet above sea-level he collapsed. It took some little time to restore
-him to his senses, only to see that he had given of his best and
-could go no farther. We unburdened him, leaving him his apparatus and
-sufficient oxygen to see him safely back to the high camp. The ground
-over which we had just come was easy and, as the tent was in full view
-below, there was no chance of losing the way; so, as soon as he was
-sufficiently recovered,[18] we sent Tejbir back.
-
-After seeing him well on his way, we shared Tejbir’s load between us.
-In view of the straightforward nature of the climbing, I chose to
-dispense with the rope in order to be able to progress more quickly.
-Climbing by no means steep and quite easy rocks, and passing two almost
-level places affording ample room for some future high camp, we arrived
-at an altitude of 26,500 feet. By this time, the wind, which had been
-steadily rising, had acquired such force that I realised that, were
-we to remain fully exposed to it much longer, we would both succumb
-to the cold as Tejbir had done. We were, however, not out to see how
-far we could go, but bent on getting to the top of Everest. So we
-changed tactics. Instead of gaining the summit by ridges exposed to
-the full blast of the gale, we would have to follow a more sheltered
-way. The only thing to do was to leave the ridge and strike out across
-the vast north face of the mountain. This alternative route had its
-disadvantages. The rocks up which we had come were wind-swept free
-from snow, and foot- and handholds were good and plentiful, and, so
-far as could be seen, this state of affairs continued for quite a long
-way beyond the Shoulder. The moment we left the ridge, however, we
-felt the disadvantages of the fact that the stratification of the rock
-dips towards the north. The ground over which we now had to make a way
-was slabby, with much new snow to hamper us. Caution was necessary
-throughout. My companion was sure-footed, careful and unlikely to slip;
-nevertheless, being responsible for his safety, I moderated my pace and
-never allowed more than a few feet to separate us. Thus, keeping close
-together, we worked away steadily, gaining but little in altitude,
-but getting ever so much nearer to the summit. The climbing steadily
-became more and more difficult. Sometimes the slabs gave place to snow;
-treacherous, powdery stuff with a thin, wind-formed crust that gave a
-false appearance of compactness. Little reliance could be placed upon
-it. At length, when about half-way across the face and at an altitude
-of about 27,000 feet, we decided once again to change our route and
-strike straight upwards in the direction of the summit ridge.
-
-We had climbed some three hundred feet higher, and I had just reached
-a ledge at the top of a steep slab about thirty feet in height, when
-I heard Geoffrey Bruce give a startled cry: “I’m getting no oxygen!”
-Turning round immediately, I saw him struggling ineffectually to
-climb up towards me. Quickly descending the few intervening feet, I
-was just in time to grasp his right shoulder with my left hand as he
-was on the point of falling backwards over the precipice. I dragged
-him face forwards against the rock, and, after a supreme effort on
-the part of both, we gained the ledge where I swung him round into a
-sitting position against the slope above. Thus placed, with the weight
-of his apparatus taken off his back, he again told me, this time in a
-gasp, that he was no longer receiving oxygen. I gave him my tube and,
-still standing, with the full weight of my own apparatus and other
-impedimenta on my back, endeavoured to locate the fault. Systematically
-I traced the connections from the cylinder in use down to the pressure
-gauge and flow-meter and found both in action, the latter recording a
-flow of 2·4 litres per minute. By this time, however, what with the
-weight of my load and being deprived of oxygen, I was not feeling
-any too well, and, believing the defect to lie in a breakage of the
-flow-meter exit tube (an apparatus had previously failed through
-developing this flaw which was consistent with the results of the
-present hasty examination), in my desperation I tried to prize off the
-flow-meter with my ice-axe in order to be able to connect the rubber
-tube leading to Geoffrey Bruce on to the exit tube of the reducing
-valve. (The emergency by-pass valve was useless in dealing with this
-type of breakdown.) Before I had proceeded far with my efforts,
-however, I found it necessary to recover my tube from Geoffrey and take
-a series of deep gulps of oxygen, turning on the gas to a maximum rate
-of delivery and, in addition, increasing its flow by making use of the
-by-pass valve on my own apparatus. This restored me, and, so that both
-could breathe oxygen simultaneously from my apparatus, I connected a
-reserve “T” piece and rubber tubing, which I had fortunately brought
-with me, on to the delivery tube. Resuming the diagnosis, I this time
-traced connections back from the mouthpiece and at once discovered that
-a glass connecting piece, which had been used in the construction of
-the improvised mask, was broken. The thick rubber which had originally
-covered the tubing had been partially dragged off, and the glass, thus
-unprotected, had probably been fractured against rock while climbing.
-As I had a spare glass connection in my possession, the repair was
-speedily effected, and Geoffrey Bruce was once more inhaling oxygen
-from his own apparatus.[19]
-
-We rested for a few minutes before going on. Those few minutes decided
-the issue of the day. So far, I had not had the leisure to consider my
-companion’s condition. His climbing was all I had had eyes for. How
-was he getting on? Was he all right without the rope? Was he keeping
-up? But now I saw that Geoffrey Bruce, like Tejbir, had driven his
-body almost to the uttermost. A little more would spell breakdown. The
-realisation came like a blow. My emotions are eternally my own, and I
-will not put on paper a cold-blooded, psychological analysis of the
-cataclysmic change they underwent, but will merely indicate the initial
-and final mental positions. Reasoned determination, confidence, faith
-in the possibility of achievement, hope--all had acquired cumulative
-force as we made our way higher and higher; the two nights’ struggle at
-our high camp had not dimmed our enthusiasm, nor had the collapse of
-Tejbir, rude shock and source of grave anxiety though it undoubtedly
-was. Never for a moment did I think we would fail; progress was steady,
-the summit was there before us; a little longer, and we should be on
-the top. And then--suddenly, unexpectedly, the vision was gone.... I
-thought quickly. I could have gone on, the time having long passed
-since I possessed no confidence in my own factor of safety or needed a
-rope. But to have done so would have been unfair to Geoffrey Bruce who
-with his fewer years was not so inured to hardship as I was. We did,
-however, proceed for a few yards. This made my only possible course of
-action even more obvious.[20] As evidence of my companion’s indomitable
-spirit I would add that, when my decision to return was announced, he
-clearly voiced his chagrin.
-
-According to the aneroid barometer I carried, we had reached an
-altitude of at least 27,300 feet.[21] The point we had gained
-may be easily recognised. We were standing inside the bend of a
-conspicuous inverted “V” of snow, immediately below the great belt of
-reddish-yellow granite which cleaves almost horizontally through the
-greenish, grey-black rock of which the summit and north face of Mount
-Everest are composed. With the exception of the summit of Everest,
-nowhere could we see a single mountain-top as high as our own lofty
-perch. The highest mountain visible was Cho Uyo, which is just short
-of 27,000 feet. We were well above it, and could look across it into
-the dense clouds beyond. The great West Peak of Everest, one of the
-most beautiful objects to be seen from down in the Rongbuk Valley, was
-hidden, but we knew that our standpoint was nearly two thousand feet
-above it. We could look across into clouds which lay at some undefined
-distance behind the Shoulder, a clear indication that we were only a
-little, if anything, below its level. Pumori, an imposing, ice-bound
-pyramid, some 23,000 feet high, I sought at first in vain. So far were
-we above it that it had sunk into an insignificant little ice-hump
-by the side of the Rongbuk Glacier. Most of the other landmarks were
-blotted out by masses of ominous, yellow-hued clouds, swept from the
-west in the wake of an angry storm-wind. Though 1,700 feet below, we
-were well within half a mile of the summit, so close, indeed, that we
-could distinguish individual stones on a little patch of scree lying
-just below the highest point.
-
-But it was useless to think of continuing. It was too plain that, if we
-were to persist in climbing on, even if only for another five hundred
-feet, we should not both get back alive. The decision to retreat
-once taken, no time was lost, and, fearing lest another accidental
-interruption in the oxygen supply might lead to a slip on the part of
-either of us, we roped together. It was midday. At first we returned in
-our tracks, but later aimed at striking the ridge between the Shoulder
-and the North Col, at a point above where we had left it in the
-morning. This enabled us to find level going where the order of advance
-was of little importance, and I could go ahead, keeping my companion on
-a short, taut rope. The clear weather was gone. Once back on the ridge,
-we plunged down the easy, broken rocks through thick mists, driven
-past us from the west by a violent wind. For one small mercy we were
-thankful--no snow fell.
-
-On regaining our high camp, we looked inside the tent and found Tejbir
-snugly wrapped up in all three sleeping-bags, sleeping the deep sleep
-of exhaustion. Hearing the voices of porters on their way up to meet
-us, we woke him up, telling him to await their arrival and to go down
-with them. Bruce and I then proceeded on our way, met the ascending
-porters and passed on, greatly cheered by their bright welcomes and
-encouraging smiles. But the long descent, coming as it did on the top
-of a hard day’s work, soon began to find out our weakness. We were
-deplorably tired and could no longer move ahead with our accustomed
-vigour. Knees did not always bend and unbend as required. At times
-they gave way altogether and forced us, staggering, to sit down. But
-eventually we reached the broken snows of the North Col, and at 4 p.m.
-arrived in the camp, where we found Crawford and Wakefield who, with
-very natural curiosity, had come up to have a look at the col and spend
-the night there. Noel had already been three days up here on rather
-short rations, and the fuel and food supplies were consequently much
-depleted. In the circumstances, though we would fain have passed the
-night in the North Col Camp, as did the four climbers after the first
-attempt, we were compelled to face a further descent that afternoon
-to Camp III. A craving for food and rest, to the lack of which
-our weakness was mainly due, was all that animated us; and, before
-continuing the descent, this craving had to be satisfied, even if only
-to a small extent. A cup of hot tea and a small tin of spaghetti were
-forthcoming, and even this little nourishment so refreshed and renewed
-our strength that three-quarters of an hour later we were ready to set
-off for Camp III.
-
-[Illustration: _Mount Everest from the North Col, showing route._
-
-1. _Site of first party’s camp._ 2. _Site of our camp._ 3. _Point
-gained by Norton, Mallory and Somervell._ 4. _Point gained by Geoffrey
-Bruce and Finch._ 5. _The Summit._]
-
-[Illustration: _Monsoon clouds._
-
-  _Facing page 330._
-]
-
-From the North Col to Camp III, we had in Captain Noel an invaluable
-addition to our party. He formed our rear-guard and nursed us safely
-down the steep snow and ice slopes on to the almost level basin of the
-glacier below. Within forty minutes after leaving the Col, we arrived
-in Camp III. Since midday, from our highest point we had descended over
-six thousand feet, but we were quite finished. The brightest memory
-that remains with me of that night is dinner. Four quails truffled in
-_pâté de foie gras_, followed by nine sausages, only left me asking for
-more. With the remains of a tin of toffee tucked away in the crook of
-my elbow, I fell asleep in the depths of my warm sleeping-bag.
-
-Next morning an inspection by Somervell, who had returned to Camp III
-during our attempt on Everest, showed that Geoffrey Bruce’s feet were
-sorely frost-bitten. I had well-nigh escaped, though four small patches
-of frost-bite, due to the cold which had penetrated the half-inch
-thick soles of my boots and three pairs of woollen socks, made walking
-unpleasant. I was also weak. The result was that both of us were piled
-on to a sledge and dragged by willing porters down over the glacier
-until its surface became too rough. I then discovered that I could walk
-quite well; presumably I had been lazy in the morning. But Geoffrey
-Bruce fared less well, and had to be assisted back to Camp II. And so
-from camp to camp the weary return journey dragged on. The sense of
-failure was with us. We had set out with one resolve--to get to the
-summit. The realisation that we had at least established the record for
-high climbing had not yet dawned upon us, and when it did, it afforded
-but scant consolation. With fine weather and but one night at our high
-camp, with Geoffrey Bruce, whose stout-heartedness made good to a great
-extent his inexperience of mountaineering and consequent uneconomic
-use of his strength, Mount Everest would in all probability have been
-climbed. I shall always be grateful to Geoffrey Bruce, not only for
-the confidence he placed in me, but also for the backing he gave me
-throughout our climb--and afterwards.
-
-The descent from Camp I to the Base was perhaps the roughest and most
-trying march of all. Great was the rivalry amongst the porters as to
-who should have the honour of carrying Geoffrey Bruce, the condition
-of whose feet would not permit of his walking down those almost
-interminable moraines with their harassing stones. Even the worst
-journey must come to an end, however, and at last, on the afternoon of
-May 29, we were being accorded the warmest of welcomes by the General
-and the other members of the expedition at the Base Camp.
-
-The next few days were spent in resting. But I underwent the same
-experience as the members of the first climbing party; instead of
-recovering strength rapidly during the first three or four days, if
-anything, a further decline took place. However, as the immediate
-weather prospects seemed good, although it was obvious that the monsoon
-must shortly break, it was decided to make a third attempt upon the
-mountain.
-
-Somervell was, by now, undoubtedly the fittest of the climbing members
-of the expedition, with Mallory a good second. Both had enjoyed some
-ten days’ rest since their first assault upon Mount Everest and had,
-therefore, had some chance of recovering from the abnormal strain to
-which they had been subjected. Medical opinion as to my condition after
-so brief a respite of only four days was somewhat divided; but in the
-end I was allowed to join in the third attempt.
-
-[Illustration: _On the return journey to the Base Camp._
-
-  _Facing page 332._
-]
-
-On June 3, we left the Base Camp. The party consisted of Wakefield as
-medical officer, Crawford and, later, Morris as transport officers,
-with Mallory, Somervell and myself as climbers. Oxygen was to be used,
-and I was placed in command. It was a great struggle for me to get
-to Camp I, and I had to realise that the few days’ rest at the Base
-Camp had been quite inadequate to allow of my recuperation, and that
-no useful object would be served by my proceeding farther. Snow fell
-during the night. Next morning, after giving Somervell final detailed
-instructions regarding the oxygen apparatus, I returned once more to
-the Base Camp. As Strutt and Longstaff were leaving on the following
-day to escort the badly frost-bitten Morshead to Darjeeling, I was
-given, and availed myself of, the opportunity of accompanying them.
-
-The next news I heard of the third attempt upon Mount Everest was
-gleaned from the columns of a Sunday newspaper, shortly after landing
-in Dover some six weeks later. I read that an avalanche had destroyed
-seven of our gallant mountain comrades, the Nepalese porters. This
-disastrous accident had terminated the third attempt on Mount Everest
-before even the North Col had been gained.
-
-Mount Everest, the Goddess Mother of the Snows, with all her formidable
-array of natural defences, had conquered. But the value of reasoned
-determination, unwavering confidence, really warm and wind-proof
-clothing and, last but not least, the proven worth of oxygen--weapons
-to break down the innermost defences of even the highest mountain in
-the world--are now, perhaps, better understood.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[16] Swiss abbreviation for “Gertrude.”
-
-[17] By means of theodolite observations made from a single point near
-the Base Camp, this height has worked out at 26,985 feet. According to
-Col. S. G. Burrard and H. H. Hayden, _A Sketch of the Geography and
-Geology of the Himalaya Mountains and Tibet_, Calcutta, 1907-1909, this
-height is exceeded by only eight mountain summits, all of which are in
-the Himalayas.
-
-[18] My action in sending Tejbir back alone has, I believe, been
-criticised. There is no need to labour the point. I was the responsible
-person and the sole judge of circumstances, and I acted for what then
-appeared to me, and subsequently proved to be, the best.
-
-[19] In my previous accounts of the climb, I practically ignored this
-incident. Recently, however, Dr. Longstaff published in the _Alpine
-Journal_ an article in which he describes the happening at some length.
-I believe that the story was related to him by Captain Geoffrey Bruce.
-
-[20] To those who attribute our retreat to the fear of a possible
-second failure of the oxygen apparatus, I say that such a prospect
-cost me not one moment of apprehension; I knew I was equal to such
-an emergency. Neither were our actions influenced by discouragement
-or indifference--we cared terribly about reaching our goal. The fact
-that we took cameras, but omitted to use them, has been construed as
-evidence of forgetfulness and change in mental attitude induced by
-the height. Before leaving our high camp, Geoffrey Bruce and I had
-carefully made our plans. We realised that we would have little time to
-spare, and that the cold would be too intense to permit of reloading
-the cameras. Therefore, in camp, we had loaded each of the cameras with
-one spool and jealously saved all the exposures for the summit views.
-Neither the summit nor the pictures materialised for us.
-
-[21] By means of theodolite observations made from a single point
-near the Base Camp, this height has worked out at 27,235 feet. This
-latter height is calculated on the assumption that the altitude of
-Mount Everest is 29,002 feet. It may be of interest to note, however,
-that the mean of numerous observations made by the Survey of India
-from twelve different stations places the height of Everest at 29,141
-feet. This figure has not yet been finally corrected for deviation of
-gravity. When due allowance for this has been made the height of Mount
-Everest will probably be found to be about 29,200 feet. In the same way
-the point reached by Geoffrey Bruce and myself works out at (27,235 +
-198) = 27,433 feet; a height that is exceeded, as far as I know, by
-four mountains, all in the Himalayas; namely, Mount Everest, K2 (28,250
-ft.), Kanchenjunga (28,150 ft.) and Makalu (27,790 ft.).
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-MOUNTAINEERING PHOTOGRAPHY
-
-
-Not the least of the rewards of mountaineering are the memories of
-mountain comrades and adventures which cheer those of the true faith
-through the humdrum existence of ordinary life. The camera enables
-us to retain a faithful picture of the many striking incidents, the
-wonderful surroundings and the fellow-actors who have played with us
-in the great game; so that photography, like a keen and accurately
-observant sixth sense, helps to keep our mountain memories fresh and
-true for all time. Given no other, this, by itself, were sufficient
-reason why a camera should accompany us on our travels.
-
-A distinction should be drawn between photography of mountains and
-mountaineering photography. The former is a pursuit indulged in by
-those who are, for the most part, content to take photographs of
-mountain scenery from valleys, railways, roads, paths or other easily
-accessible points of view. In such cases, photography is the chief
-object; any mountaineering that may be done is, as a rule, of the
-simplest kind and undertaken chiefly for the sake of photography. By
-“mountaineering photography,” on the other hand, I would designate the
-use to which the mountaineer puts the camera; to him, climbing is the
-main object, and photography merely an incidental side issue. To the
-photographer, the weight and bulk of his photographic apparatus is of
-minor importance; but the _bona-fide_ climber must cut down the weight
-of his photographic equipment to a minimum, and any photography he
-may indulge in must interfere as little as possible with the pursuit
-of the ruling passion. His camera must be so simple that pictures can
-be taken quickly and without waste of time. The scenes most worthy of
-record frequently give little warning of their approach and are of
-short duration; and, unless the camera is one which can be quickly
-manipulated, the opportunity will be gone before the record can be
-secured. The mountaineer is, therefore, confined to the use of a
-simple, light camera of small and convenient dimensions. The opinion
-is widely expressed in books on mountain photography that good results
-are only obtainable with stand cameras and glass plates--the heaviest
-and most inconvenient type of photographic equipment. To-day, this is
-no longer the case. Lenses, folding cameras sufficiently small and
-compact to fit into one’s pocket, and the celluloid film negative have
-been brought to such a state of perfection that, with their aid, the
-climber can secure photographs which not only compete successfully from
-the point of view of quality with the results obtained with far more
-elaborate apparatus, but also far excel the latter in quantity.
-
-The choice of camera is governed, in the first place, by the size of
-the negative required. In contact copies, from the smaller sizes of
-negatives, details, often of value, are too readily overlooked and
-usually appear to proper advantage only on enlargement. Particularly so
-is this the case with regard to pictorial effect. Enlargements to more
-than six or seven diameters show up faulty definition to an exaggerated
-degree, and the grain of the emulsion often becomes disturbingly
-evident. The smallest size of negative which may be regarded as
-sufficiently free from these drawbacks is 2¹⁄₂ × 3¹⁄₂ inches, a size
-which permits of satisfactory enlargement up to the pleasing dimensions
-of 12 × 15 or even 15 × 20 inches. As, however, a quarter-plate size
-(3¹⁄₄ × 4¹⁄₄ inches) camera is procurable which is handy, simple to
-use, and is neither too bulky nor too heavy, the mountaineer would
-do best to be on the safe side and adopt this as his standard. There
-is no need to peer into or use a magnifying glass when looking at a
-quarter-plate size contact print. Its pictorial value can be easily
-judged, the proportions of the shape are pleasing, and it enlarges well.
-
-[Illustration: _In a mountain hut._
-
-_A portrait study._
-
-  _Facing page 336._
-]
-
-Having chosen the size of the camera, it is necessary to decide whether
-plates, flat films, pack films, or roll films are to be employed. For
-the mountaineer, plates are out of the question; they are too heavy,
-too easily damaged and too slow to bring into use. Owing, however,
-to the standard of excellence attained in the manufacture of various
-types of films, there can nowadays be no advantage in preferring
-plates, even if weight were not a consideration. Also, in the matter
-of expense, there is little difference between the cost of plates and
-that of films. As far as the climber is concerned, flat films (“cut
-films”) suffer from the same defect as plates, in that they take too
-much time to use. Pack films are free from this disadvantage, but
-the packages in which they are contained will not stand rough usage;
-they are somewhat readily damaged, with the result that light may be
-admitted. The roll-film is the negative material _par excellence_ for
-the mountaineer. In a suitably designed camera, the best makes lie
-perfectly flat. Their bulk and weight are less than those of any other
-type of negative. Easily packed in air- and waterproof packages which
-can be sealed with adhesive plaster, they are practically unbreakable
-and will withstand extraordinarily rough handling. They are quickly
-changed in broad daylight, free from halation effects, and twelve
-exposures can be developed together, with little more trouble than
-attends the developing of a single plate or flat-film negative.
-These are but a few of the great advantages of roll films from the
-mountaineer’s point of view. Hence the ideal camera for the climber is
-a quarter-plate size, roll-film, folding model.
-
-In choosing such a camera, attention should be paid to the following
-points. The camera should be light, yet strong. It should be as simple
-as possible and provided only with such mechanism as is essential to
-the taking of good photographs. All superfluous accessories should be
-dispensed with. The essential features of a camera are these:--The
-back must fit light-tight on to the body. The film-winding mechanism
-contained in the body should be such that the film is held flat and not
-scratched on winding. The bellows should be strong and light-tight and
-should be periodically examined for pin-holes when the camera is in
-use. Pin-holes, when they occur, are easily repaired by sticking over
-them a piece of adhesive plaster which can then be blackened with ink
-or charcoal. The side-struts should lock the base-board firmly when the
-camera is opened. The front-grip should slide smoothly in the runners
-and yet fit well, so that when the camera is opened the front standard
-is held rigid. The shutter is an item of great importance; its timing
-should be calibrated, and its mechanism be of such a design that the
-opening and closing movements are as rapid as possible, thus enabling
-the passing of the maximum amount of light during the time of exposure.
-The two most important speeds of the shutter are the ¹⁄₅₀ of a second
-and a high speed such as ¹⁄₂₅₀ or ¹⁄₃₀₀ of a second. It is difficult to
-hold a camera sufficiently steady to ensure accurate definition with a
-lesser speed than ¹⁄₅₀ of a second, and this, in the vast majority
-of cases, will be the standard shutter speed employed. Occasionally,
-when photographing a rapidly-moving object, such as an avalanche, or a
-climber jumping a crevasse, the fastest available shutter speed should
-be used. Integral with the shutter mechanism is the stop, preferably an
-iris diaphragm. The quantity of light allowed to fall upon the negative
-should be controlled as far as possible by means of the stop alone, the
-shutter speed being kept always at ¹⁄₅₀ of a second save in exceptional
-circumstances. The lens is one of the chief keys to successful
-photography. From personal experience of many different makes of
-lenses, I can unhesitatingly recommend the following: Kodak Anastigmats
-f: 6.3 and f: 4.5, Goerz Dagor or Dogmar f: 4.5 and Zeiss Tessar f:
-4.5. These four give excellent definition, and the last is particularly
-suitable for taking photographs for map-making purposes. For a
-quarter-plate camera, the focal length should, as a rule, be 4 to 5
-inches, rather nearer the former than the latter. The lens, when fitted
-and the camera opened, must be truly centred with the axis at right
-angles to the plane of the negative. The view-finder should include
-no more and no less of the object to be photographed than is actually
-projected by the lens on to the negative. The focussing scale must be
-accurately graduated for the lens with which the camera is fitted, and
-should be provided with an automatic infinity stop which is free from
-backlash. Both focussing scale and infinity stop, but particularly
-the latter, must be set with the greatest possible accuracy. This
-will nearly always be the case in a camera of reputable make secured
-from the makers themselves. A short cable release is an advantage; it
-enables one to hold the camera more steady when an exposure is being
-made. It goes without saying that the camera should be of the best
-material and workmanship throughout. One of the best makes of cameras
-procurable and suitable for the mountaineer is the Folding Pocket Kodak
-Number 3.
-
-[Illustration: _The Aiguille du Géant._
-
-_Clearing mists._]
-
-[Illustration: _The Sella Pass._
-
-_Approaching thunderstorm._
-
-  _Facing page 338._
-]
-
-The estimation of correct exposure is a difficult matter for many
-beginners in mountaineering photography. The following may serve as a
-rough guide. In the summer months between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5
-p.m., when above the snow-line, snow scenes require ¹⁄₅₀ of a second
-and about stop f: 20; rock scenes ¹⁄₅₀ of a second, stop f: 10. Distant
-snow scenes and distant mountain ranges need ¹⁄₅₀ of a second, stop f:
-30. I do not recommend exposure meters, chiefly because their use takes
-up too much time. For development, I advocate the use of Kodak daylight
-developing tanks with the special developers prepared by that firm. The
-negative of almost every photograph used in the illustration of the
-present book was developed in the Kodak daylight developing tank.
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber’s Note:
-
-Minor errors and omissions in punctuation have been fixed. Inconsistent
-hyphenation has been standardized. Original spellings have been left
-as in the original text unless listed below. Small-caps font has been
-capitalized in the text version.
-
-Page 150: “bridge over a bergshcrund” changed to “bridge over a
-bergschrund”.
-
-Page 173: “He assured he” changed to “He assured me”.
-
-Page 257: “ensuing be-pinnicled portion” changed to “ensuing
-be-pinnacled portion”.
-
-Page 339: “majority or cases” changed to “majority of cases”.
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF A
-MOUNTAINEER ***
-
-Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
-be renamed.
-
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The making of a mountaineer, by George Ingle Finch</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The making of a mountaineer</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Ingle Finch</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 10, 2022 [eBook #69128]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Amber Black, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF A MOUNTAINEER ***</div>
-
-
-
-
-<p class="vbig center">THE MAKING OF A MOUNTAINEER</p>
-
-<hr class="r65" />
-
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-<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="frontispiece">
-<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption">Climbing the Matterhorn by the Zmutt ridge.<br /></p>
-<p class="center small">“We had to cut steps across a wide ice slope” (<i>page 187</i>).</p>
-
-<p class="right small">
-  <i>Frontispiece</i>
-</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r65" />
-
-<div class="title-page">
-
-<h1 class="center">  THE MAKING<br />
-  OF<br />
-  A MOUNTAINEER</h1>
-
-<p class="small center p4">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">GEORGE INGLE FINCH</p>
-
-<p class="vsmall center p4">WITH SEVENTY-EIGHT PHOTOGRAPHS, ONE DRAWING AND TWO DIAGRAMS</p>
-
-
-<p class="center p6"><span class="figcenter" id="pubmark">
-<img src="images/pubmark.jpg" class="w10" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-
-<p class="big center pnone">ARROWSMITH :: LONDON :: W.C.1</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r65" />
-
-
-<p class="small center"><i>First published in May, 1924</i></p>
-
-
-<p class="center small p6">Printed in Great Britain by<br />
-J. W. ARROWSMITH LTD.<br />
-11 Quay St. &amp; 12 Small St., Bristol</p>
-
-<hr class="r65" />
-
-<p class="big center">To<br />
-<br />
-MY WIFE</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<table class="autotable">
-<colgroup>
-	<col span="1" style="width: 5%" />
-	<col span="1" style="width: 80%" />
-	<col span="1" style="width: 15%" />
-</colgroup>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl vsmall">CHAPTER</td>
-<td></td>
-<td class="tdr vsmall">PAGE</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td></td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#PREFACE">11</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">I</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Early Days</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">13</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">II</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Climbing in Corsica</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">20</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">III</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Wetterhorn</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">40</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">IV</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Jungfrau</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">52</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">V</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Jungfrau and the Jungfraujoch</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">68</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">VI</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">On Skis in the Bernese Oberland</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">82</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">VII</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">On Skis in the Bernese Oberland</span> (<i>continued</i>)</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">95</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">VIII</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Winter’s Night on the Tödi</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">107</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">IX</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Bifertenstock</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">122</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">X</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Monte Rosa</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">140</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XI</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Twins</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">153</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XII</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Matterhorn—A Beginner’s Impressions</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">164</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XIII</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Matterhorn</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">182</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XIV</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Dent d’Hérens</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">193</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XV</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mont Blanc</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">213</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XVI</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mont Blanc from the South</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">227</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XVII</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two Chamonix Aiguilles</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">248</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XVIII</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Aiguille du Dru</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">269</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XIX</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Towards Mount Everest</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">283</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XX</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mount Everest</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">296</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdr">XXI</td>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mountaineering Photography</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">335</a></td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>
-<table class="autotable">
-<tr>
-<td>Climbing the Matterhorn by the Zmutt ridge</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td></td>
-<td class="small tdr">FACING</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td></td>
-<td class="small tdr">PAGE</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Rock-climbing</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img014a">14</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Crossing a steep snow slope</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img014b">14</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Scrambling in the range of the Tödi</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img01">18</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Climbing the Capo al Dente</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img02">24</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The southern summit of Capo Tafonato</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img03">28</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Cinque Fratri from below the Col de Foggiale</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img04">32</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Paglia Orba from the Cinque Fratri</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img05">36</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Morning mists</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img06">44</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Climbing down a steep ridge</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img07">48</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The short cut—roping down</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img08">48</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The north face of the Jungfrau</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img09">52</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The icefall of the Guggi Glacier</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img10">56</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“We basked on the roof of the Guggi hut”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img11">62</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Cutting steps over the upper lip of a bergschrund</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img13">76</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Evening storm</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img14">80</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Morning calm</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img15">80</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Eismeer icefall</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img16">86</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Sounding a snowbridge</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img17">86</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Cornices on the Punta Margherita</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img18">98</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>A cornice on the Rôchefort ridge</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img19">98</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Tödi</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img20">108</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Tödi from the Bifertenlücke</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img21">116</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The summit of the Tödi</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img22">116</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Bifertenstock from the Bündner Tödi</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img23">128</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“... a faithful record of Forster’s blood-bespattered condition”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img24">136</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The east face of Monte Rosa</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img25">142</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Frisallücke</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img26">148</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Grenz Gipfel</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img150a">150</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Val Sesia from Monte Rosa</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img150b">150</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img27">154</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Castor</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img28">154</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Swiss ridge of the Matterhorn from the Matterhorn hut</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img166">166</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Swiss summit of the Matterhorn from the Italian summit</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img29">170</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The summit of Mont Blanc in 1911</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img30">170</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Descending the Italian ridge</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img31">174</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Matterhorn from the Dent d’Hérens</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img178">178</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Matterhorn from the Stockje</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img32">184</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Matterhorn at sunset</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img33">184</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“... that tremendous overhang called the ‘Nose of Zmutt’”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img34">186</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>An ice avalanche</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img35">196</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The north face of the Dent d’Hérens, showing route followed</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img36">210</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Back at the Schönbühl hut after the climb</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img37">210</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Mont Blanc from the Dôme hut</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img38">218</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Descending Mont Maudit</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img224a">224</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Peuteret ridge from the Col du Géant</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img224b">224</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Mont Blanc from the Val Veni</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img39">228</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Innominata from the Col du Fresnay</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img236">236</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Aiguilles Blanche and Noire de Peuteret</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img244a">244</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“A traverse of about thirty yards across the steep western flank of the Peuteret ridge....”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img244b">244</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Chamonix Aiguilles and Mont Blanc</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img250a">250</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Descending the Grépon</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img250b">250</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>A stiff chimney</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img250c">250</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>A sérac</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img40">254</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“Two ladders tied together and laid across the chasm”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img41">254</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The summit of the Grépon</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img258">258</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Good, sound rock</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img264">264</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The bergschrund below the Dru</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img270">270</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Where next?</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img42">272</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“La Pendule”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img274a">274</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“... A rather steep ice slope—the Mur de la Côte”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img274b">274</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>On the summit of the little Dru</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img43">278</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>On the first day out from Phari Dzong</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img290a">290</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Shekar Dzong</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img290b">290</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Mount Everest and the Base Camp</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img44">294</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Camp II.</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img45">294</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>“A suitable slope was soon found”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img46">302</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Amid the séracs of the East Rongbuk Glacier</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img47">304</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Crossing a trough on the East Rongbuk Glacier</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img48">304</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Mount Everest from Camp III.</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img306">306</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The North Peak and the North Col Camp</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img50">314</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The North Peak from an altitude of nearly 24,500 feet on Mount Everest</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img316">316</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Mount Everest from the North Col, showing route</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img330a">330</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>Monsoon clouds</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img330b">330</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>On the return journey to the Base Camp</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img51">332</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>In a mountain hut</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img52">336</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Aiguille du Géant</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img53">338</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>The Sella Pass</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#img54">338</a></td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Man’s</span> heritage is great. There are the mountains; he may climb them.
-Mountaineering is a game second only to the greatest and best of all
-man’s games—life.</p>
-
-<p>The War all but dried up the steady stream of youthful and enthusiastic
-devotees who kept alive and fresh the pursuit of mountain-craft. But
-fresh blood is as essential to the healthy life of mountaineering as
-it is to any other game, craft or pursuit, and, fortunately, there are
-cheerful signs that the after-effects of the War are fast becoming
-spent. Our youth is beginning to find the dancing floor, the tennis
-court and the playing fields of Great Britain too narrow, too lacking
-in scope, perhaps also a little bit too soft; and the craving grows for
-wider fields and a sterner, freer pastime.</p>
-
-<p>It is primarily for the members of the younger generation that
-this book has been written, in the hopes that, by affording them a
-glimpse of the adventurous joys to be found in the mountains, they
-may be encouraged to take up and try for themselves the pursuit of
-mountaineering.</p>
-
-<p>Portions of Chapters II and XVIII have appeared in the <i>Climber’s
-Club Journal</i>, Chapter VIII in the <i>British Ski Year Book</i>, and
-Chapters XIV and XVI in the <i>Alpine Journal</i>. Where not otherwise
-stated, the illustrations are from photographs by the Author.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p>
-
-<p>In conclusion, I would like to thank Captain T. G. B. Forster for the
-loan of four photographs; <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> A. B. Bryn for one photograph; <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> R.
-H. K. Peto for the pen-and-ink sketch of the east face of Monte Rosa
-and the drawing of an ice-axe; my brother for Chapter VIII; and last,
-but not least, my wife for her contribution, Chapter XII, and for the
-tireless pains she has taken in assisting me with the preparation and
-correction of the manuscript and proofs.</p>
-
-<p>I also wish to place on record my appreciation of what I owe to the
-inspiration and example of the <i>Alpine Journal</i> and of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>
-Geoffrey Winthrop Young, and to the inspiring influence of Miss P.
-Broome.</p>
-
-<p><span class="smcap">10 Gainsborough Mansions,</span></p>
-<p class="ind3 pnone"><span class="smcap">London, W.14</span>,</p>
-<p class="ind5 pnone"><i>April, 1924</i>.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p class="nobreak vbig center"><b>THE MAKING OF A MOUNTAINEER</b></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br />
-<span class="vsmall">EARLY DAYS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Some</span> twenty-two years ago, on a dewy spring morning in October, I
-urged my panting pony towards a hill-top in the Australian bush, the
-better to spy out the whereabouts of a mob of wallaby. The last few
-feet of the ascent being too much for the pony, I dismounted and,
-leaving him behind, scrambled up a short, rocky chimney to the summit.
-The wallaby were nowhere to be seen; but my wondering eyes were held
-spell-bound by such a vision as I had never even dreamed of. Miles and
-miles away the white-washed roofs of the township of Orange gleamed
-brightly in the clear morning sunshine; the main roads converging
-upon the town showed sharp and distinct from out their setting in the
-rolling bush. The picture was beautiful: precise and accurate as the
-work of a draughtsman’s pen, but fuller of meaning than any map. I was
-just thirteen years old, and for the first time in my life the true
-significance of geography began to dawn upon me; and with the dawning
-was born a resolution that was to colour and widen my whole life.
-Before returning to my pony after this, my first mountain ascent, I had
-made up my mind to see the world; to see it from above, from the tops
-of mountains, whence I could get that wide and comprehensive view which
-is denied to those who observe things from their own plane.</p>
-
-<p>A year later my brother Maxwell and I, now proud possessors of Edward
-Whymper’s <i>Scrambles in the Alps</i>,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> emulated our hero’s early
-exploits by scaling Beachy Head by a particularly dangerous route,
-much to the consternation of the lighthouse crew and subsequent
-disappointment of the coastguards who arrived up aloft with ropes
-and rescue tackle just in time to see us draw ourselves, muddy and
-begrimed, over the brink of the cliff into safety. That climb taught
-us many things; amongst them, that a cliff is often more difficult to
-climb than would appear from below; that flints embedded in chalk are
-not reliable handholds, but sometimes break away when one trusts one’s
-weight to them; that there are people who delight in rolling stones
-down a cliff without troubling to see whether anyone is underneath; and
-that if it be good to look down upon the world, the vision is beautiful
-in proportion to the difficulties overcome in gaining the eminence. A
-few weeks later, an ascent of Notre-Dame by an unorthodox route might
-well have led to trouble, had it not been for the fact that the two
-gendarmes and the kindly priest who were the most interested spectators
-of these doings did not lack a sense of humour and human understanding.
-Then we passed through Basle into Switzerland, bitterly disappointed
-to find that the railway did not wind through dark, tortuous valleys
-bordered by glistening snow-capped mountains.</p>
-
-<p>That winter we broke bounds. Shod in the lightest of shoes, with
-clothing ill-suited to protect against wind, with walking sticks, and
-a pocketful of sandwiches we took the train to Wesen. There we bought
-a map and set off to climb the Speer, a mountain barely 6,000 feet
-in height, but nevertheless a formidable enough proposition for such
-an ill-equipped party in winter. All that day we struggled on, often
-knee-deep in snow. At dusk, still far from our goal, we sought refuge
-from the cold breezes of eventide. Letting ourselves in through the
-chimney<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> hole in the roof of a snowed-up Alp hut, we bivouacked
-for the night. Shivering and sleepless we lay, watching the stars as
-they twinkled derisively in frosty clearness through the hole in the
-roof. After what seemed an eternity, morning came, and we plodded on
-with stiff and weary limbs to the summit. There, bathed in the warm
-sunshine, all hardships were forgotten, and we gazed longingly over to
-the ranges of the Tödi and the Glärnisch—real snow and ice mountains
-with great glaciers streaming down from their lofty crests. Thence the
-eye travelled away to the rich plains, the gleaming lakes and dark,
-forested hills of the lowlands, until details faded in the bluish
-mist of distance. Switzerland, a whole country, was at our feet. This
-escapade taught us further lessons: that mountaineering is a hungry
-game; that boots should be waterproof, and soles thick and studded with
-nails; that a thick warm coat can be an almost priceless possession.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<div class="picpage">
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img014a">
-<img src="images/img014a.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="left50 small pnone"><i>Photo G. I. Finch.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone"><i>Rock-climbing.</i></p>
-<p class="center small b2"><i>The rope is belayed over a projecting spike of rock.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img014b">
-<img src="images/img014b.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right50 small pnone"><i>Photo T. G. B. Forster.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone"><i>Crossing a steep snow slope.</i></p>
-<p class="center small b2"><i>The rope is belayed over a projecting spike of rock.</i></p>
-<p class="right50 small"><i>Facing page 14.</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Then came a glorious summer vacation of fishing and sailing round the
-coast of Majorca, with hours of splendid clambering on the cliffs
-of Miramar, followed by a week with our tutor on the Pilatus. Our
-tutor was a sportsman, and we scrambled about together to our hearts’
-content, more than once sailing as close to the wind as any of us have
-ever done since. And yet again we had learned something: that the
-stockinged foot finds a firmer hold on dry limestone than a nailed
-boot; that wet limestone slabs are slippery and an abomination to be
-avoided; that the thrusting muscles of one’s legs are more powerful and
-more enduring than the pulling muscles of one’s arms; and that strong
-fingers are of more use in climbing than a pair of well-developed
-biceps.</p>
-
-<p>More holidays came and went: summers passed on the shores of the
-western Mediterranean, but Christmas vacations spent in Grindelwald,
-and devoted to learning the art of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> ski-ing. In Grindelwald we had the
-good fortune to win the liking of old Christian Jossi, in his day one
-of the greatest guides and best step-cutters in the Alps. He took us
-to the upper Grindelwald Glacier and on its mighty ice pinnacles, or
-séracs, taught us the elements of step-cutting in ice and the use of
-the rope. He showed us how to fashion a stairway in hard, blue ice, the
-floor of each step sloping inwards so that it was easy for one to stand
-securely. He showed us the points by which to judge of the merits of a
-good axe, how to hold and use it, and how, imitating him, to cut good
-safe steps with a minimum number of blows and expenditure of labour.
-He showed us how easy it is to check a slip and hold up a man on the
-rope provided it be kept always taut from man to man; and he did not
-hesitate to rub in, by demonstrations accompanied by much forceful
-language, what a fearful snare the rope could be if it were improperly
-used and permitted to be trailed loose and in coils between the various
-members of a party. He also pointed out some of the many varieties of
-snow: some good, in which on even the steepest slopes a kick or two
-sufficed to make a reliable step; others which could not be trusted
-on any but the gentlest of slopes and needing only a touch to start
-slithering down with an insidious hissing sound to form an avalanche
-which would sweep everything with it in its path of destruction. Last
-but not least, Christian Jossi instilled into us some of his own fervid
-love of the mountains and of mountain adventure.</p>
-
-<p>The summer holidays of 1906 drew nigh. Our longing for mountain
-adventure was no longer to be denied, and elders and betters had
-perforce to give way. But they enforced two provisos—we were to be
-accompanied by guides, and climbing was to be restricted to the lesser
-Alps of Northern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> Switzerland. We climbed a few lesser summits, all
-about 10,000 feet high; on none was there climbing where hands as well
-as feet were required, and not once did we see the axe used to cut a
-step. Efforts to wheedle our stalwart guardians into attacking the bold
-pyramid of the Segnes Tschingelhorn, always provocatively before our
-eyes, failed miserably; they had their instructions. But they could not
-always keep us in sight, and more than once, stealing forth alone, we
-found good climbing, adventure and untrammelled fun; and the desire to
-climb without guides was born in us.</p>
-
-<p>That winter the lesser peaks and passes of Grindelwald were visited
-on skis. A stern effort to gain the Strahlegg Pass was frustrated by
-a snowstorm in the teeth of which for nineteen hours on end we fought
-our way back to Grindelwald, having learnt that, with map and compass
-and given your bearings, bad weather in the mountains can be faced and
-even enjoyed if you only keep on moving and do not get flurried. We
-also knew now that boots should be large enough to enable two pairs of
-woollen socks to be worn without pinching the foot, and that toe-caps
-should be high and roomy so as not to interfere with the circulation.
-A sweater worn underneath a wind-proof jacket of sailcloth was found
-to be both lighter and much warmer than heavy tweeds through which the
-wind could blow and to which the snow would stick.</p>
-
-<p>From 1907 onwards until 1911, Max and I both studied in Zürich and
-were thus thrown into close and continual contact with the mountains,
-from which we were separated only by some three or four hours by rail.
-Barely a week-end went by without our taking train to the mountains and
-climbing. During the Easter holidays of 1907 we betook ourselves on
-skis up to the Clariden hut, one of the many little shelters built by
-the Swiss Alpine Club in the heart of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> the mountains. These huts are
-furnished with straw-filled sleeping bunks, blankets, a small cooking
-stove, a supply of wood, and cooking and eating utensils. We had with
-us provisions for a week, during the whole of which period the weather
-was fine and snow conditions at their best. We climbed almost all the
-surrounding summits, the return to the hut each evening taking the form
-of an effortless run on skis over the Clariden Glacier.</p>
-
-<p>During the summer vacation of the same year Max and I successfully
-obtained <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte blanche</i> to climb without guides, and for nearly
-three months we roamed in and about the range of the Tödi. We climbed
-most of the summits in the range, including the Tödi itself, which
-with its 11,800 feet of altitude was much the highest mountain so
-far grappled with. We always endeavoured to exercise every possible
-attention to the following out of the lessons hitherto learnt, losing
-no opportunity of acquiring fresh knowledge regarding matters of
-equipment, the handling of rope and axe, and the mountains themselves.
-In particular we aimed at cultivating a sense of route-finding and
-teaching ourselves how to use the map. The winter of that year saw
-us embarking upon expeditions of a more ambitious nature than those
-previously attempted. Up to the Easter of 1908 our most successful
-winter feat was an ascent of the Sustenhorn on skis; but during that
-vacation we accomplished the ascent of the Tödi, a winter expedition
-that even to-day is reckoned by no means a simple undertaking. As the
-summer holidays approached, a still more ambitious programme was drawn
-up. Our self-assurance, confidence—call it what you like—seems to
-have been boundless, for we now considered that our apprenticeship had
-been sufficiently long to justify us in letting ambitions soar into
-reality. The programme, although not carried out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> in its entirety,
-nevertheless proved a great success. Beginning with the Bernese
-Oberland, we climbed the Wetterhorn, were driven back by storm just
-below the summit of the Eiger, but followed up the reverse by climbing
-the Mönch, Jungfrau and Finsteraarhorn. Thence making our way down the
-Aletsch Glacier to the Rhône Valley, we went up to Zermatt. From there
-we climbed the Matterhorn and the Dent Blanche, then crossed over the
-Col d’Hérens to Arolla, where for the first time we experienced to the
-full the pleasures of traversing a mountain, that is, ascending by
-one route and descending by another. Amongst others, were traversed
-the Aiguille de la Za, the Aiguilles Rouges d’Arolla and the Pigne
-d’Arolla. The ascent of the last-named was made by cutting steps up the
-steep north face, and it was this climb more than any other that won me
-over to the delights of ice-climbing. Returning to Zermatt by various
-high-level passes, we journeyed northwards and wound up the season in
-the Tödi district, where all the major summits were traversed.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<div class="picpage">
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img01">
-<img src="images/img01.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Photo T. G. B. Forster.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Scrambling in the range of the Tödi.</i></p>
-
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 18.</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Thus from its chance nucleus on the hill-top in the Australian bush,
-snowball-wise the zest for the mountains grew until it has actually
-become an integral part of life itself. The health and happiness that
-the passion has brought with it are as incalculable as the ways of
-the “divinity that shapes our ends,” chooses our parents for us, and
-places us in a certain environment. The love that Max and I have for
-the mountains I cannot but attribute to the fact that we were possessed
-of a father who taught us from our earliest years to love the open
-spaces of the earth, encouraged us to seek adventure and provided the
-wherewithal for us to enjoy the quest and, above all, looked to us to
-fight our own battles and rely on our own resources.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br />
-<span class="vsmall">CLIMBING IN CORSICA</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Comfortably</span> seated in the depths of Bryn’s favourite and most
-somniferous chair, I browsed idly and half unthinkingly through the
-pages of a guide book that had found its way, as such things will,
-to my host’s address. Cynically amused as far as my sleepy condition
-would permit by the flights of verbal fancy to which compilers of
-guide books seem addicted, subconsciously certain plain, unbefrilled
-facts impressed themselves upon my mind and, eventually marshalling
-themselves, roused me out of my lethargy to a state bordering on
-excitement.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve found it!” I shouted.</p>
-
-<p>Max and Bryn awoke, startled.</p>
-
-<p>“What, you fool?” they growled encouragingly.</p>
-
-<p>“Listen! It is easy of access, thinly populated, few tourists visit
-the interior, and it has mountains rising to 9,000 feet above
-sea-level; the very thing we are looking for.” Wide awake now, they
-were interested enough to ask where this Utopia was. Astonished at such
-crass ignorance, I answered, “Corsica, of course, fatheads!”</p>
-
-<p>It really was the very thing we had been looking for. The Christmas
-vacation of 1908 was just over. A few months ago Max and I had made the
-acquaintance of Alf Bonnvie Bryn, a Norwegian who, like ourselves, was
-studying in Zürich. Bound together by the common bond of enthusiasm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>
-for the mountains, the acquaintance rapidly ripened into friendship,
-and many were the pleasant evenings spent in each other’s rooms. The
-topic of conversation was always the same—mountaineering. Gradually
-our thoughts turned from other mountain groups more and more towards
-the Himalayas, and we decided some day to combine forces and carry
-out an expedition to this greatest of the world’s mountain ranges. As
-far as actual climbing was concerned, we considered that the Alps, as
-a training ground for Himalayan exploration, could not be bettered.
-But in one thing which would do much to make or mar the success of an
-exploring venture in these distant ranges, we could look to the Alps
-for little assistance. That was organisation, particularly with respect
-to food and equipment. In the Alps, a mistake or omission of detail in
-either of these things can be remedied by a descent into the valley,
-involving a loss of not more than a day or so of climbing time. But for
-the Himalayas we judged that it would be essential to have everything
-that one would want with one. Mistakes or omissions would not be easily
-rectified after one had left one’s base, usually the last outpost of
-civilization and, even as such, devoid of many of the necessities for
-mountaineering. From the base onwards one would have to rely entirely
-upon one’s own resources. These considerations drove us to a decision
-to spend the Easter vacation in some remote part of Europe; Switzerland
-would be our advanced base, and the chosen field of our activities a
-wilder territory to which we would not look for supplies of either food
-or equipment. Where was such a territory to be found? The more remote
-mountains of Norway were ruled out on account of the earliness of the
-season. Considerations of distance, and therefore of time and expense,
-militated against our going to the Sierra Nevada or the Balkans. Our
-mental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> state was one of puzzled despair until by chance the little
-guide book of Corsica insinuated itself into my attention.</p>
-
-<p>Early in March, 1909, we set to work to put our equipment in order,
-making sleeping-bags and a tent and buying tinned foods. The latter
-were selected with a view to nourishing value, variety, compactness and
-minimum of weight. By the middle of the month our preparations were
-almost complete. A few days afterwards, Bryn and I set off for Corsica,
-leaving Max, whose studies kept him in Zürich for the time being, to
-join us at a later date. We travelled by rail through the St. Gotthard
-<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</i> Milan and Genoa to Leghorn, embarking there for Bastia.
-The five-hour crossing on a crazy little cargo boat was rough and
-uncomfortable, and we both dwelt at some length and with much feeling
-upon the foolishness of setting out on our little expedition instead
-of spending the holidays in comparative luxury in Switzerland. But
-when, at sunset, loomed up the snow-capped summits of the bold mountain
-chain that forms the backbone of the long promontory of Cap Corse, our
-optimism returned. The first difficulties on landing were those created
-by Customs officials. On explaining quite frankly the object of our
-visit, however, they informed us ecstatically that Corsica was the most
-beautiful country in the world and that we would be sure to enjoy our
-stay there—and passed our stores free of duty! Such patriotism created
-a first good impression of the inhabitants, which we saw no reason
-later to alter. The Corsicans received us with nothing but the utmost
-kindness throughout our stay on the island.</p>
-
-<p>The following day was spent in purchasing maps and drawing up plans.
-According to the maps, Calacuccia appeared to be the Zermatt of
-Corsica, so to Calacuccia we forwarded most of our stores. Leaving
-the greater part<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> of the remainder in the simple little auberge, the
-Hôtel des Voyageurs, which was our headquarters in Bastia, we set out
-to walk and climb over the whole length of the range of mountains in
-the promontory of Cap Corse. Though none of these peaks exceed 4,300
-feet in height, nevertheless, owing to the close proximity of the sea,
-they appear high. But their chief appeal to us was that they afforded
-magnificent views into the mountains of the north-west interior of the
-island, where we expected to find the best climbing. The main groups
-centre round Monte Cinto which, rising to 8,900 feet above sea-level,
-is the highest summit in Corsica. Standing well away to the north of
-the main mass was one bold rock needle that attracted our attention.
-With the aid of compass and map, we identified this point as being the
-Capo al Dente, a peak some 7,000 feet in altitude, and decided to lay
-siege to it before going to Calacuccia, especially as we had every
-reason to believe that it had not been climbed. Back again in Bastia,
-we packed up our remaining stores, sufficient for ten days, and took
-train to Palasca, a station on the line between Bastia and Calvi. In
-Palasca we were fortunate in securing the services of a mule and his
-driver. I say “fortunate,” for our knapsacks, containing sleeping-bags,
-spare clothing, ropes, cooking apparatus, cameras and food, weighed
-over 80  <abbr title="pounds">lbs.</abbr> each. The mule proved more willing than his master. Our
-way to the Val Tartagine, at the head of which the Capo al Dente lies,
-led over a number of passes the crossing of which involved a good deal
-of uphill and downdale walking. The mule-driver’s strength never seemed
-equal to any of the rises, as he would persist in sitting on the mule.
-The upshot was that ere half our thirty-mile journey was accomplished
-the poor little animal struck work and refused to go an inch farther.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>
-There was nothing to do but dismiss both driver and mule and shoulder
-our burdens ourselves. We struggled on all day, steering for the most
-part by map. It was a painful business. The knapsacks were inordinately
-heavy, and their narrow straps bit cruelly into our shoulder muscles.
-At sunset, completely exhausted and feeling incapable of moving another
-step, we unpacked the sleeping-bags by the banks of a spring and, after
-cooking a meal, slept such a sleep as falls to the lot of few.</p>
-
-<p>On the following day we crossed the last pass and dropped down into
-the Tartagine Valley. At the entrance to the valley stood a forester’s
-cottage. The forester and his wife refused to allow us to pass without
-first partaking of their hospitality. Like all Corsicans, they spoke a
-good French as well as the peculiar dialect of their country, a mixture
-of French and Italian. Here, as elsewhere in the island, we met with
-nothing but courtesy and kindness. In response to anxious inquiries,
-our host assured us that the Capo al Dente had never been climbed. From
-his house we could see it, a wonderful rock pinnacle bearing a certain
-resemblance to the Aiguille du Dru and standing up boldly at the very
-head of the valley. In the afternoon we took our leave and followed a
-diminutive track leading along the right bank of the Tartagine River.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<div class="picpage">
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img02">
-<img src="images/img02.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Photo A. B. Bryn.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Climbing the Capo al Dente.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... we espied a diminutive crack ... the solution to the problem.”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 24.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>At an altitude of about 4,000 feet above sea-level, above the snow-line
-which at this season of the year extends to below 3,000 feet, we
-found a suitable camping site, a huge rock platform on the face of
-a cliff. It was sheltered from the wind on three sides and, being
-partially overhung, might also be expected to be protected in the
-event of snow or rain falling. For nine nights we camped on this spot.
-The cold during the long hours of darkness was bitter and ruthlessly
-demonstrated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> the flaws in the design of our sleeping-bags. Day after
-day we made our way up to the head of the valley and searched in vain
-for a route up the black cliffs of the Capo al Dente. On the ninth day
-we at last espied a diminutive crack threading the first hundred feet
-of the precipitous lower ramparts of the mountain. We had discovered
-the solution to the problem. Within an hour of effecting a lodgment on
-the rock we had gained the summit and felt truly recompensed for those
-long, cold nights of shivering endured in camp. The climbing had been
-steep but by no means excessively difficult.</p>
-
-<p>There is a peculiar charm about the view from the summits of these
-Corsican mountains. They have the lure of sea cliffs. From most of them
-you look down upon the ocean. From the Capo al Dente we could see the
-tiny little harbour of Calvi and, fascinated, follow the movements of
-a Lilliputian steamer that was leaving on its voyage over the smooth,
-broad, blue expanse of the Mediterranean. To the south the great range
-of the Cinto reared its snow-clad, precipitous peaks, and, looking, we
-felt satisfied that, in coming to Corsica in quest of mountaineering
-adventure, we had made no false step. Flanking the Val Tartagine were
-other mountains of interest, such as Monte Corona and Monte Padro; but
-our provisions were almost at an end. In any case, time was up, for we
-had arranged to meet Max in Calacuccia on April 5.</p>
-
-<p>It took us two days to regain the railway at Ponte Leggia, and for
-those two days our sole provisions consisted of rather less than a
-pound of porridge and a little tea and sugar; a fault in organisation
-to which we frankly confessed at the little station restaurant at Ponte
-Leggia by purchasing several square meals rolled into one. On April 4
-we arrived at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> Calacuccia. Max joined us on the 5th, and the following
-days were spent in exploring the Cinto group to the north-west of
-Calacuccia and in selecting a suitable site for a camp. Eventually our
-choice fell upon the Viro Valley which, in an island rich in the beauty
-of rugged mountain scenery and wild vegetation, is one of the grandest
-and most charming.</p>
-
-<p>On April 10 we left the little Hôtel des Voyageurs, where we had
-received much kindness at the hands of the proprietress, Madame Veuve
-Lupi. A mule and his driver were entrusted with kit and provisions—a
-heavy load. The mule was lazy and needed much and continual urging.
-The Corsicans seldom strike their animals. If a grumbling “Huh!
-Huh!” has not the desired effect, the driver spits on the mule’s
-hindquarters—and a trot is almost invariably the result. As a rule,
-a whip is worse than useless; it only produces a wild fit of panicky
-bucking. The day was hot and sultry. The mule-driver had soon emptied
-his wine-flask and, as he disdained to allay his thirst with the
-crystal-clear water of the many mountain streams we passed, his supply
-of saliva eventually failed. The pace of the mule fell off accordingly.</p>
-
-<p>At Albertacce, a hamlet near the entrance of the Viro Valley, we halted
-to pay our respects to the priest, who was also head man of the place,
-and make arrangements about our mail. Before we had taken our leave,
-the rumour had spread that we were skilled physicians, and we had to
-resign ourselves to treating nearly half the inhabitants for all manner
-of ills, imaginary and real. Sodium bicarbonate, bismuth subnitrate,
-calomel or quinine were administered in homœopathic doses. A week
-later, homeward-bound, we returned through Albertacce and had thrust
-upon us the homage and thanks of the entire population. The prescribed
-treatment had, in every single<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> case, effected a complete cure—another
-example of how a reputation may be made.</p>
-
-<p>Half an hour below the selected camping site, patches of snow were met
-with. The first extensive snow patch proved too much for both mule
-and driver. The Corsicans have a real terror of walking in snow; they
-fear that at any moment they may sink in and be suffocated. So we had
-to dismiss our burden bearers and make shift to carry our loads into
-camp ourselves. In the heart of the forest, on a little snow-free plot
-of ground hard by the left bank of the river, we pitched the tent. To
-the south-west rose the great precipices of Paglia Orba, the grandest
-summit in the great chain of mountains which in the form of a gigantic
-horseshoe shuts in the valley of the River Viro.</p>
-
-<p>On the following day at 8 a.m. we left camp, crossed the foaming
-waters of the torrent—not without getting more or less drenched in
-the process—and spent the next two hours in steadily plodding up
-the snow slopes to the Col de Foggiale,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> a depression on the ridge
-south of Paglia Orba. The work at first was distinctly hard, for the
-surface crust of frozen snow was not always sufficiently strong to
-bear one’s weight. As the lower mountain slopes in Corsica are usually
-covered with a dense undergrowth or <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>, breaking the snow
-crust meant plunging right through into a thick tangle of vegetation,
-extrication from which was possible often only after a struggle. Higher
-up, fortunately, the snow became firmer and we seldom broke through.
-The approach to the col was defended by a huge overhanging cornice of
-snow through which we had to tunnel a way with the axe. The charm of
-the view from the col lay in the contrast between<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> the whiteness of
-snow-covered mountain and the deep blue of sea. Capo Tafonato (7,700
-feet), however, a mountain whose praises we had often read, presented
-a disappointing appearance. Judging from the map, we had expected to
-see it standing boldly up in front of us on the far side of a fairly
-wide valley. It stood, however, a low rock ridge possessing no daring
-outlines and partially hidden behind Paglia Orba. Nevertheless, two
-features commanded our respect; no snow was lying on the peak, a sign
-that the wall opposite us was very steep; and we could see right
-through a tremendous hole or natural tunnel which pierced the mountain
-from one side to the other, indicating that the unseen side was also
-steep and that the summit ridge must be proportionately narrow. After
-a short rest, we traversed over frozen snow slopes round the base of
-Paglia Orba to the gap between it and Capo Tafonato. Here we had a
-short discussion as to the route to be followed, finally deciding to
-take the right hand or north ridge straight up from the gap and to
-traverse the whole mountain from north to south. We roped and were soon
-at work climbing the very steep and firm rocks. Following a spiral
-staircase of easy chimneys and ledges round the northern, the higher
-of the two summits, we reached the top after an hour’s brisk climbing.
-After a brief halt to gaze down over the tremendous precipices of
-the west face towards the sea, we re-arranged the rope and set off
-to make an attack on the gap of formidable appearance that separated
-us from the southern summit. This looked just like a much magnified
-blunt needle point. To our surprise we were able to descend into the
-gap without encountering any serious difficulty, and followed the
-extremely narrow, but on the whole easy, ridge to the southern summit
-which was crowned by a diminutive cairn. Now followed a descent into
-another gap over very rotten rocks and an imposing, but easy,
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> All the while we could not help admiring the
-steepness and depth of the walls on the western side of the mountain.
-Soon after passing the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>, we came to a great overhanging
-buttress in the ridge, at the top of which a hanging coil of rope
-indicated that the last climbers to descend here had made use of the
-doubled rope. The coil was thin and bleached with exposure, so we cut
-it off and stowed it in our rucksacks as a trophy, to be returned, if
-possible, to its late owners. We fixed a new coil, passed our rope
-through it and slid down some fifty feet on to an uncomfortably sloping
-ledge. Here we found driven into a crack in the rock a large, rusty
-iron nail to which some coils of strong, silken cord were attached.
-Threading the rope through these, we again slid down about sixty feet
-to a broad snow ledge on the east face. After hauling down the rope, we
-followed the continuation of this ledge in a northerly direction and
-gained the floor of the immense tunnel that pierces Cape Tafonato from
-east to west. A series of ledges and chimneys brought us safely back
-to the gap where the climb had begun, the whole traverse having taken
-nearly five hours.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<div class="picpage">
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img03">
-<img src="images/img03.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The southern summit of Capo Tafonato.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... like a much magnified blunt needle point.”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 28.</i></p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-
-<p>After a hasty but enjoyable meal of chocolate, sardines, and tea, we
-set off on the return journey. The descent to the Col de Foggiale round
-the foot of Paglia Orba was most enjoyable in the evening sun, whose
-golden reflection shimmered in the distant gulfs of the coast. We
-passed the cornice on the col without jumping and managed, in spite of
-the soft snow, to glissade almost half-way down to the tent. We arrived
-back in camp about half an hour after sunset. The night was fine,
-though cold, but we slept well, for we had earned our sleep with a good
-hard day’s work.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p>
-
-<p>April 12 was spent in recuperating from the effects of the previous
-day’s labours. In fact, during our whole stay in Corsica we were
-generally forced to sandwich our climbs with a generous number of
-off-days. Our food, consisting mainly of preserves brought out from
-Switzerland, certainly disagreed with one and all of us; by which it is
-not to be inferred that the quality of the food was at fault. It was
-the nature of the food that was wrong. Our dietary was totally lacking
-in fresh vegetables and, indeed, fresh food stuffs of any kind; an
-omission which probably explains our general state of unfitness.</p>
-
-<p>During the night of April 12 to 13 a west wind set in and towards
-morning became so violent that the tent several times threatened to
-leave its moorings. The weather, however, was otherwise fine, so we
-decided to make an attempt at traversing the five peaks of the Cinque
-Fratri, the highest of which is about 6,500 feet. After numerous
-efforts to shake off a certain lethargy which gripped us all, we at
-length stumbled off in three detachments, at intervals of ten minutes.
-The aim of each detachment was to meet the other two in the gap to the
-south of the fifth and lowest Frater. This we eventually succeeded in
-doing, though each took a different route up. We roped in the col,
-Max being given the lead, an honour which he repaid by dropping a pot
-of honey and a loaf of bread on Bryn’s head and mine in the course
-of the ascent. The tie-strings of his knapsack had been too weak.
-From the gap we traversed round on to the east face of the peak and
-climbed directly upwards through the great chimney which runs down it
-from the summit. The climax of the ascent was provided by a somewhat
-narrow pitch in this chimney, where you encounter a bush of prickles,
-roll in them on your back, kick with one leg against each wall of the
-cleft<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> and then swing out on to the exposed and very steep ridge on
-the right. This brings one to an easy slope of loose stones leading
-to the summit. Bryn and I, of course, went to sleep, leaving Maxwell
-to confide a slip of paper containing our names to the care of the
-newly-built cairn—a reprehensible form of vice to which in those days
-we were much addicted. Presently he stirred us up, driving fresh life
-and energy into us with the business end of his Anthanmatten ice-axe,
-and we obediently scrambled down to the gap between Fratri Nos. 5 and
-4. Maxwell was again delegated to pull the two sleep-walkers up Frater
-No. 4. He chose the easier, direct way and energetically pulled us up
-a few steep cracks, slabs and chimneys, in the hope of rousing us. A
-vain hope, for, arrived on the summit, we immediately sought out a
-spot that was sheltered from the wind and were soon deep in slumber
-once more. All too quickly came another rude awakening at Max’s hands,
-and we again moved off. A few feet below the summit we were baulked at
-the edge of an overhanging wall. With some difficulty we contrived to
-fasten a coil of thin rope round a large block. Maxwell descended first
-and succeeded in climbing nearly all the way, though most of his verbal
-messages and directions were borne off by the wind, with the result
-that the rope was always slack when he wanted it taut and nearly always
-pulling him up again while he was climbing an easy bit. Then came my
-turn. I found the descent distinctly easy and pleasant, for, still half
-asleep, I allowed myself to hang free all the way, leaving the work of
-lowering me down to Bryn who found me rather heavy. After sending down
-his axe and rucksack, Bryn soon joined us, and we romped up the easy
-Frater No. 3. Passing another gap, Frater No. 2 speedily succumbed to
-our united attack.</p>
-
-<p>The next gully, that between Fratri Nos. 2 and 1, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> running down the
-south wall of the mountain, is most remarkable. Very narrow and steep,
-with deep, clean-cut walls, it should afford some first-rate climbing.
-The descent from Frater No. 1, the highest of these peaks, to the gap
-between it and Monte Albano provided another occasion for cutting off
-a loop from the spare rope and roping down. The wall here is very
-steep, and composed in the main of loose and treacherous rocks. I went
-down first and photographed the others struggling to descend, almost
-expecting to see them at any moment blown away with a piece of rock in
-each hand, so buffeted about were they by the gale.</p>
-
-<p>Traversing round the southern base of Monte Albano, we struck some
-abominably slushy snow slopes through which we ploughed a way, finally
-stumbling through <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i> and loose stones into the welcome haven
-of our camp. After a grand five-course dinner, we settled ourselves
-comfortably in the tent and talked over deeds and memories until,
-wearied out, we quietly dozed off.</p>
-
-<p>Wednesday, April 14, was destined to be another lazy day. It was
-Maxwell’s turn to prepare breakfast, and in due course Bryn and I
-kicked him out of the tent. Unfortunately we neglected to hang on to
-his sleeping-bag, with the result that when we two began sleepily
-foraging for something to allay the pangs of hunger, we found our cook
-snugly asleep. With eating and sleeping, with roasting in the sun and
-cooling in the shade of the forest and in the icy waters of the Viro,
-time passed away pleasantly enough, but all too quickly. After such a
-glorious rest, we were ready and anxious to grapple with the hardest
-problem the mountains of Corsica could offer us. Owing to the ease
-with which we had been able to scramble over Capo Tafonato and the
-Cinque Fratri, we were beginning to despair of finding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> a really
-difficult climb and had reached a stage where we were ready to tackle
-any projected route, no matter how difficult it appeared from afar. In
-short, we were in need of proof that one could meet with a really tough
-job amongst the cliffs of Corsica’s mountains.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img04">
-<img src="images/img04.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Cinque Fratri from below the Col de Foggiale.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The Cinque Fratri, I. to V., are the rock peaks to the right of
-Monte Albano, the highest summit seen.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 32.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>More than a week ago, on the occasion of an ascent of Monte Albano,
-Bryn and I had admired the boldly soaring outlines of Paglia Orba
-(8,300 feet). In particular the clean-cut, awe-inspiring precipices
-of the north-east face drew our attention. A prolonged inspection of
-this huge wall revealed two apparently weak points. The one was formed
-by a series of snow patches indicating ledges, probably connected by
-small cracks or chimneys and ledges invisible to us from a distance.
-The whole series formed a huge C in white on a background of black
-rock. A snow field on the summit of Paglia Orba formed the head of the
-C-ledge, while the lower end began about eight or nine hundred feet
-lower down and about half-way up the upper, more or less perpendicular,
-wall. Several larger snow patches indicated a possible connection
-between the foot of the C and the gentler slopes below the great final
-wall. The other weak point was indicated by a deep shadow, betraying
-the presence of a chimney, joining the summit snows with a small snow
-patch in the wall some thousand feet below the top. On the east face,
-which offers no absolutely blank and perpendicular walls comparable
-with those of the impressive north-east face, we could see plenty of
-easy ways of gaining the summit. They threatened to be rather dull and
-uninteresting; so, in the hopes of finding a day’s difficult work, we
-determined to finish up our climbs in the range of the Cinto with an
-attack on the north-east face of Paglia Orba.</p>
-
-<p>After a sumptuous breakfast of porridge and coffee we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> left camp at
-8.15 a.m. on April 15. We followed the stream for some ten minutes
-then, crossing it near a dilapidated cow-shed, set to work to plod
-up the snow slopes leading to the north-east wall. We took turns of
-an hour each to break trail, for the snow was already soft. As far
-as possible keeping to the rocks that here and there cropped out of
-the snow, we rose fairly rapidly. By 10 a.m. we were on a level with
-the lowest of the Cinque Fratri. Half an hour later we began climbing
-hand and foot up broken rocks to the right of some steep snow slopes.
-In order to save time, and being sure of ourselves, we did not use
-the rope. To avoid an overhang just below the top of these rocks, we
-were forced to cross under a small waterfall which thoroughly drenched
-us. Thence mounting a very steep snow slope, we gained the narrow,
-heavily corniced crest of a minor ridge which seemed to descend from
-the beginning of the great C-ledge. The work ahead looked serious. We
-roped, Bryn being invested with the responsibilities of leadership. The
-fun began at once. Difficult chimneys, choked with masses of snow and
-ice, alternated with small snow slopes lying at a dangerously steep
-angle. Good belays were generally conspicuous by their absence. At 1
-p.m., having risen some six hundred feet above where the rope had been
-put on, we were pulled up short by a smooth wall which appeared to bar
-all possible access to the foot of the C-ledge. We were on the upper
-edge of a comparatively large snow slope of triangular shape which
-had been clearly visible from our camp. We knew that the foot of the
-C-ledge was some two hundred and fifty feet, the summit itself over a
-thousand feet above us. The way up those two hundred and fifty feet
-seemed all too well guarded. To right and left, the ledge supporting
-our snow patch ran out into smooth, perpendicular walls. We were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>
-standing on the upper rim of the ledge in a position which, owing to
-the lack of any belay whatsoever, was by no means too secure. A chimney
-led up presumably to the foot of the C-ledge. The first few feet
-appeared to be extremely difficult, and the leader would undoubtedly
-have needed the assistance of the other two if he were to tackle it
-with any hope of success. Higher up, the chimney looked even worse and
-was finally blocked by a huge, ice-covered, overhanging chock-stone.
-Far above we could see the icicle-fringed summit of Paglia Orba, from
-which water trickled down. Occasionally icicles broke away and fell
-<em>past</em> us, proving the wall above to be overhanging. Some two
-hundred feet from our standpoint a part of the wall had broken away,
-leaving a huge overhanging platform which would have made an excellent
-site for a bivouac if only the mountain had been turned upside down.</p>
-
-<p>Whilst munching some bread and chocolate we had ample time to review
-our surroundings thoroughly. We made the best use of our opportunities,
-the more so as we were beginning to think this was to be the highest
-point of the day’s climb. We knew that the Austrian climber, Herr
-Albert Gerngross, and his guide, Konrad Kain, had attempted the climb
-during the previous year; also, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> von Cube, a well-known pioneer
-of climbing in Corsica, had referred to the wall in terms of the
-impossible. At present, after a lengthy inspection, we were scarcely
-in the mood to disagree with him. Finally, admitting defeat, we turned
-to descend. When almost a rope’s length down the now dangerously soft
-snow slope, I remembered having omitted to photograph the ledge running
-out to the right. I halted a moment and asked Bryn to use his camera
-to save me the trouble of reascending. To obtain a better view, Bryn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>
-carefully crawled out along the ledge in the opposite direction. This
-chance move saved the day, for, some ten feet above his standing-point,
-Bryn now caught sight of another ledge which would enable us to enter
-the chimney above the most difficult pitch. On hearing this welcome
-news I rejoined the others with all possible haste, and together
-Maxwell and I shouldered Bryn up on to the newly-discovered ledge.
-Once on this, Bryn made rapid progress. Maxwell followed, and, after
-a struggle, I arrived to find that they were already attacking
-the chimney immediately below the huge, ice-covered chock-stone.
-The climbing had now become extremely difficult. Bryn rounded the
-chock-stone by climbing out of the chimney over some precipitous slabs
-to the right, finally gaining the upper level of the chock-stone. A
-period of intense anxiety followed upon our rejoining Bryn. Should we
-have to return or could we push through? A series of short snow-filled
-chimneys and ledges led up and round several corners. Each time on
-clearing one corner we could overlook only the ground as far as the
-next. But whether we were getting nearer to the summit or to a forced
-bivouac still remained to be seen. At last we gained the beginning of
-the C-ledge. On following this, though not without difficulty because
-of its incline, we saw that it was broken off at the foot of the huge
-chimney previously considered as possibly affording an alternative
-route to the summit. We now perceived, however, that the chimney was
-formed by a clean-cut buttress jutting out at right angles from the
-wall, and that it overhung considerably. Bryn crossed the chimney and,
-by climbing a very difficult and exposed series of cracks in its left
-wall overhanging an appallingly steep precipice, regained the C-ledge.
-“How’s the view?” we called out from below in one breath. Once<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> again
-we only learn that the climb can be continued to the next corner. While
-Maxwell was rejoining Bryn he had the misfortune to drop his axe. It
-fell, providentially without once striking rock, into a tiny patch of
-snow some eighty feet lower down the big chimney. Maxwell and Bryn
-lowered me down until I could reach it, and then unmercifully hauled me
-up to their perch without giving me the least opportunity of climbing.
-Exercising the utmost care, we proceeded along a series of highly
-sensational ledges leading in an almost unbroken line from corner to
-corner. All the time belays were few and small. On rounding what proved
-to be the last corner, we saw before us a broad chimney which was
-choked by what resembled a frozen waterfall crowned by a huge cornice.
-The sun shining on the cornice told us we were at last approaching the
-north-east ridge where we could expect easier climbing. What appeared
-to be an excellent belay enabled us to pay out Bryn’s rope with some
-measure of security as, crouching, he followed the ledge to its extreme
-end. The sloping floor of the ice-choked chimney was about two yards
-from the end of the ledge on which we stood. Far below could be seen
-our tracks in the snowfields, but of the wall beneath we were only able
-to imagine the appearance. Altogether, even a climber could hardly
-conceive of a more exposed spot.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img05">
-<img src="images/img05.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Paglia Orba from the Cinque Fratri.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The C-ledge is visible on the dark rock precipice immediately below
-the summit.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 36</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Bryn took the fateful step from the ledge to the chimney and was soon
-mixed up in the intricacies of the frozen waterfall, whose icicles were
-clustered together like the pipes of an organ. Skilfully cutting his
-way diagonally from left to right across them, he succeeded in finding
-a comparatively firm position whence he was able to take in Maxwell’s
-rope with his teeth and left hand, as the latter made the wide and
-difficult step from the end of the ledge to the foot of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> waterfall.
-To add to the insecurity of the situation, the belay on the ledge
-proved worthless; it broke off as I was testing it, and nothing would
-have saved us in the event of a slip. The following fifteen minutes
-were indeed anxious ones. I contrived to make myself fairly comfortable
-on the ledge, but poor Maxwell, standing in a very shaky step and
-hanging on to an icicle, had patiently to submit to freezing while
-fragments of ice and snow were showered on him by Bryn’s hard-working
-axe. At last Bryn had come to the end of his rope, but there were
-still six feet separating him from the nearest belay at the top of the
-waterfall and almost directly under the cornice. During a moment of
-suspense both he and Maxwell had to climb together. Then, just as the
-latter began to tackle the worst bit of all, Bryn reached the belay
-and firm footing. We soon joined him, though not without thoroughly
-appreciating the great difficulties of the pitch. We avoided cutting
-through the cornice by climbing two short but stiff chimneys to the
-right of and above the frozen waterfall, and at 5.15 p.m. were beyond
-the bend of the great C-ledge, with only easy, though steep, rocks
-between us and the summit. Feeling that we were now safe from a forced
-bivouac, that constant nightmare of the last five hours, we indulged in
-a brief rest. While swallowing a mouthful of chocolate and dry bread we
-reviewed the many little episodes, exciting moments, disappointments
-and hopes of the last two hours. But so far the sun had eluded us. When
-we first viewed the frozen waterfall the sun was shining on the cornice
-above; now it had disappeared to the other side of the mountain in its
-haste to sink into the Mediterranean, for we had taken over two hours
-to master the last hundred feet. Anxious to get warmed in its last
-rays, we began work once more. The climb up the final rocks was pure
-joy; the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> plentiful handholds were still quite warm, and their touch
-was as welcome to our frozen fingers as the iced handholds had before
-been painful. We rose very rapidly and at 6 p.m. stepped out on to the
-top of Paglia Orba. A strong westerly wind somewhat counterbalanced the
-warming effect of the setting sun, but no discomfort could detract from
-the pleasure we all felt at the success of the day’s venture.</p>
-
-<p>The summit of Paglia Orba is covered by a large snow field (at least,
-as long as the snow lasts) sloping down from the north to south and
-east. As near to the highest point as possible we built a little cairn,
-within which we hid a piece of paper giving our names and a description
-of the route and times of the ascent. To indicate the spot to future
-climbers we wound a piece of spare rope round the rock. Pausing once
-more to look down the wonderful precipice of the north-east face, we
-re-arranged the rope and set off towards the Col de Foggiale. We soon
-came upon a steep gully filled with firm, frozen snow and descended
-the first few feet cutting steps. Then, glissading down to the col, we
-dropped over the cornice and slid or ran down to the river and, wading
-through, regained our camp at 7.30 p.m., just one hour and a quarter
-after leaving the summit.</p>
-
-<p>Our success was suitably celebrated by a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand bal masqué</i>,
-followed up with the most glorious dinner of our lives. Two days later
-we struck camp and, casting many a look back towards the noble form of
-Paglia Orba, that Matterhorn of Corsica, slowly filed out of the Viro
-Valley towards Calaccucia, Corte, Ajaccio, and home, bidding Corsica
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au revoir</i> but not adieu!</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Col is a French term denoting a depression on a ridge
-connecting two summits.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> A rock pinnacle on a ridge.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE WETTERHORN</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Grindelwald</span>, the most popular of the climbing centres of the Bernese
-Oberland, is dominated by the Eiger and the Wetterhorn. The former is
-so close to the village that, owing to foreshortening, much of the
-majesty of its huge precipices is lost to the casual observer below.
-But the Wetterhorn, standing well back at the head of the valley, its
-great limestone cliffs surmounted by terraced glaciers upon which the
-snow-capped summit cone is so gracefully poised, has long appealed to
-the artist—so much so, indeed, that the view of the Wetterhorn from
-Grindelwald vies for pride of place with those of the Jungfrau from the
-Wengernalp and of the Matterhorn from the Riffel Alp.</p>
-
-<p>My first climbing acquaintance with the Wetterhorn was destined to be a
-rude one. My brother Max and I had, for five seasons, served a faithful
-apprenticeship to mountaineering in the lesser Alps of Northern
-Switzerland and, long before the arrival of the summer vacation of
-1908, had drawn up the plan of an ambitious climbing campaign which,
-beginning with the Wetterhorn, should lead us over the principal peaks
-of the Bernese Oberland into the Zermatt district, that Mecca of the
-mountaineering world. Starting from Meiringen, we had, by a circuitous
-route over the Gauli Glacier and the Wetterlimmi, gained the Dossen
-club-hut, north-east of the Wetterhorn, whence the easiest way to
-the summit starts.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> A party of five Germans, likewise bound for the
-Wetterhorn, shared the hut with us.</p>
-
-<p>We left the hut at 2 a.m. on July 24, closely followed by the Germans
-who were roped in two parties. Walking up the snow slopes at a furious
-rate, they soon left us behind, for, knowing that our strength would
-be needed later on, we preferred to take things leisurely. Max and
-I arrived at the depression south of the summit and known as the
-Wettersattel, to find the Germans already breakfasting and bringing
-by no means small appetites to bear upon the generous contents of
-their knapsacks. A chilly north wind was blowing, and the sun had not
-yet reached us, so we cut short our rest and were soon forging up the
-final snow slope to the summit. The new snow which had fallen two days
-before, though it had obliterated the steps and tracks of previous
-climbers, was now good and firmly frozen; the slopes were nowhere
-very steep, and with the help of our climbing irons we made rapid
-progress. Save for the last few feet there was no need to cut steps.
-The ascent had been easy—far easier than most of the climbs of our
-apprenticeship; indeed, it seemed little more than a short mountain
-walk, for in less than five hours after leaving the Dossen hut we stood
-on the summit. The facility with which we had conquered this, our first
-really great peak, however, did nothing to mar our feelings of happy
-pride in the achievement. The wind had dropped and the sun was warm.
-With our axes we scraped out comfortable seats for ourselves in the
-snow and sat down to rest. Westwards from our feet the summit snow
-slope curved gently outwards to fall away in ever-increasing steepness
-till it was lost to sight, and the eye rested on the green meadows
-above Grindelwald. To the south we saw the Schreckhorn, Eiger, Mönch,
-Jungfrau<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> and hosts of other giants of the Oberland, and in them beheld
-with happy vision a new world awaiting conquest.</p>
-
-<p>Twenty minutes of supreme happiness stole away ere our solitude was
-interrupted by the arrival of two of the Germans. The other three had
-given up the ascent. The spell thus broken, we prepared to return and a
-few minutes later were making our way back to the Wettersattel, closely
-followed by the two Germans who there rejoined their friends.</p>
-
-<p>It was our intention to descend on the Grindelwald side of the
-mountain. Part of the route leads down an immense gully to the Krinne
-Glacier. Arrived at the top of the gully, Max and I made our inspection
-and were satisfied. It seemed perfectly safe; it was broad and not
-very steep, and the new snow that had fallen had already consolidated
-and was reliable and so firm that it might even be necessary to use
-the axe to cut occasional steps. There were traces of a previous party
-who had attempted the descent but had given it up. By the time we had
-completed investigations, the two Germans had already set off down the
-tracks. They had decided to be the leading party on the descent, an
-arrangement which we disliked exceedingly, but there was nothing for it
-but to follow meekly. In the light of future developments, it was lucky
-that their three companions, more modest regarding their capabilities,
-elected to come behind us.</p>
-
-<p>Now, unless it is extraordinarily steep, there is only one correct way
-of descending a snow slope; you go down with your back to the slope,
-facing outwards. Standing boldly erect with shoulders well back like a
-guardsman on parade, you walk unconcernedly downwards with toes well
-up, letting the impetus of your body drive the heel into the snow to
-make a good, reliable step. Do not take little mincing steps, one
-barely below the other, but plunge bravely. You will then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> be sure
-of your foothold and make good headway. The Germans were evidently
-not accustomed to snow. They advanced with hesitation. Indeed, one of
-those behind us nervously faced into the slope and descended on all
-fours. About four hundred feet below the saddle, the tracks ceased.
-For some few feet farther, the leader of the party preceding us made
-sufficiently firm steps by kicking with his heels, but soon we found
-ourselves on much steeper and harder snow where step-cutting was
-imperative. The Germans betrayed an inclination to take to the snow
-and ice-plastered rocks to the left, but we warned them that safety
-lay only in laboriously cutting a way down in the hard snow bed of
-the gully. The leading German, however, soon abandoned step-cutting
-and moved out on to the rocks where he and his companion sat down,
-one close behind the other. Throughout the climb they had appeared
-to find difficulty in managing the sixty feet of rope to which they
-were attached; seldom had it been taut from man to man, and now, as
-they rested, it lay in loose coils between them. Max and I carried on,
-cutting steps down the gully, and had passed below the level of the
-two Germans when I saw one of them stand up. He slipped. His legs shot
-out beneath him and he began to slide down over the slabs on to the
-hard snow slope below. He dropped his axe. I shouted out a warning to
-his companion who was, however, too startled to take up the slack of
-the rope which was fast running out as the man at the other end slid
-on with increasing impetus. He had by now turned over on to his face,
-and was scraping frantically into the hard snow with his fingers in a
-desperate endeavour to save himself. At length the sixty feet of rope
-had run out; with a terrific jerk the second man was dragged from the
-rock and hurled through the air. Striking against a projecting crag,
-his left<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> arm was wrenched from the shoulder and his chest crushed in.
-The body went on until the rope’s length was spent. Again a jerk, and
-the first man, whose pace had slackened as his comrade was dragged
-from his seat, was in his turn hurled through the air—to smash his
-head in on the rocks below. It was a sickening spectacle. The bodies
-bounded over and over each other in wide curves until the edge of the
-first great precipice leading down to the Krinne Glacier hid them from
-our sight. Their three companions, who had looked on aghast, were
-naturally in a terrible state of nerves. There was nothing to do but
-to go steadily on, and, not yet realising the condition of the party
-behind, Max and I turned our attention once more to step-cutting. We
-had not proceeded far before they implored us to lead them back into
-the Wettersattel. Cutting steps up past them, therefore, we joined
-their rope to ours, charging them to keep it always taut from man to
-man, and so made our way back to the saddle. Thence we descended with
-all possible speed past the Dossen hut to Rosenlaui, from where we
-telephoned news of the accident to Grindelwald.</p>
-
-<p>Rude as this our first experience had been, it was not to be the end of
-our acquaintance with the Wetterhorn. The Wetterhorn has three summits,
-all just over 12,100 feet. The Hasle Jungfrau, probably because of its
-more imposing appearance when seen from Grindelwald, is usually called
-the Wetterhorn, although the Mittelhorn is higher by a few feet; the
-Rosenhorn is by only a few feet the lowest of the three peaks. They are
-connected by a lofty ridge running roughly from east to west. Having
-been informed that a traverse of all three summits in one day was
-regarded as something of a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tour de force</i>, this was the climb
-which headed our programme for the summer of 1909.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img06">
-<img src="images/img06.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Morning mists.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 44.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>On July 24, Max and I once again made ourselves at home in the
-Dossen hut. A school friend of Max, Will Sturgess, aged seventeen,
-accompanied us, keen as mustard and looking forward to his first
-mountain climb. That evening the weather broke and remained bad until
-the following afternoon, when a fierce westerly wind set in which swept
-away the clouds and lashed up from the ridges the newly-fallen snow.
-Towards sunset the gale dropped, and numerous parties arrived from
-Rosenlaui and Meiringen. We prepared our simple evening meal—pea soup,
-tea and plenty of bread and jam—and before nightfall were already
-seeking sleep on the straw of the bunks. But the ceaseless chatter,
-the noise of other people’s cooking operations, and last but not least
-the insistence of the preponderating Teuton element on closed windows,
-despite the fact that the little hut harboured some thirty individuals,
-made rest impossible. Soon after midnight, no longer able to bear the
-stifling atmosphere, we jumped down from our beds and gathered round in
-front of the door to drink in the sweet, cool night air. A full moon
-shone from a cloudless sky, streaking the quiet snows with bands of
-silver.</p>
-
-<p>We began to prepare breakfast, an example which was too soon followed
-by the other inmates, and so once more the little hut was filled with
-noise and bustle. Shortly after half-past one on the morning of July
-26, we escaped into the peace of the night. In our rucksacks we carried
-only the essential needs for the day, it being our intention to return
-to the hut. Over the splendid, hard-frozen snow we mounted up to the
-Dossensattel—the little snow depression on the rock ridge at the
-lower end of which stands the hut—and within an hour had crossed it
-and were making our way horizontally over a fairly steep snow slope
-towards the Wetterkessel. Sturgess, who was in the middle of the rope,
-slipped twice, but as we always kept the rope taut from man to man he
-was easily<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> held, while on both occasions he retained his grip upon
-his ice-axe—a promising sign on the part of a beginner. We walked
-quickly across the Wetterkessel, for the wind was bitingly cold, and
-about an hour below the Wettersattel halted for a second breakfast,
-finding shelter in a shallow crevasse. The first red flush of dawn was
-creeping down the Hasle Jungfrau as we set off once more. In the snow
-at the foot of a great rock pinnacle in the Wettersattel we deposited
-our knapsacks. Sturgess, wishing to reserve his strength for later in
-the day, elected to remain here and await our return from the Hasle
-Jungfrau. In a wind-sheltered hollow he got the little aluminium
-cooking apparatus into action, and promised that we should have hot
-drinks when we came back.</p>
-
-<p>We found the remains of good steps leading up the final snow slope
-and, at 6 a.m., within twenty minutes after leaving the Wettersattel,
-stepped out on to the summit. Not a single step had we had to cut. The
-wind had died down, and the sky was cloudless. Again we gazed into the
-snow and ice-clad recesses of the Oberland, no longer land of mystery,
-for in the summer of 1908 we had successfully invaded its fastnesses.
-Far below in the Wettersattel, numerous climbers were coming up from
-the Grindelwald side—little black spots upon the white purity of
-the snows. Sturgess was evidently feeling the cold, for we could see
-him occasionally forsake the cooking-pot and indulge in short runs;
-altogether he seemed to be exerting himself much more than we two.
-After spending half an hour on the summit, we cut steps along the snow
-ridge in the direction of the Great Scheidegg, until we could look down
-on to the little Hühnergutz Glacier on the cliffs of the Wetterhorn
-overlooking the Scheidegg. On our return we found several parties in
-possession of the summit, so, carrying straight on and plunging down
-the good snow, we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> soon rejoined our companion who was waiting to
-welcome us with a cup of hot tea—veritable nectar to the climber on
-the heights. Max and his friend being inclined to dally over this,
-their third breakfast, I unroped and, leaving them to follow at their
-leisure, proceeded alone up the snow slopes leading to the Mittelhorn.
-There were no difficulties to be overcome, and presently I had gained
-the summit where I stretched myself out in the warm sun on some near by
-rocks and went to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>At 9 a.m. Max, with Sturgess in tow, rudely awakened me, and we made
-ready for the serious part of the day’s work. Hitherto, though we had
-omitted none of the precautions so necessary for the safe carrying out
-of even the simplest of mountaineering excursions, the climb had seemed
-little more than a pleasant morning’s walk. Now, however, we were
-confronted by the long, be-pinnacled ridge connecting the Mittelhorn
-and the Rosenhorn, and unless appearance and rumour belied it, we
-were not likely to have too little to do. We roped together. For the
-first half-hour along the snow-crest everything was straightforward,
-until we arrived on a rocky platform from which the ridge suddenly
-fell away in an almost vertical cliff. About thirty feet lower down
-was a ledge, narrow and sloping, but roomy enough to provide standing
-ground for all three. Max lowered himself over, while I, well-braced,
-held his rope and paid him out foot by foot until he reached the
-ledge. Then came Sturgess’ turn. He advanced boldly, but lacking my
-brother’s rock-climbing prowess, he completed the descent by a free
-use of the rope. Now it was my turn. Max warned me that the pitch was
-too difficult to descend without help from above; so I cut a short
-length off the end of our rope, tied the ends securely together to form
-a loop and hung it over a jutting out spike<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> of firm rock. Meanwhile
-the others had untied themselves, thus giving me sufficient rope for
-subsequent manœuvres. Drawing up Max’s end of the rope, I passed it
-through the loop and back to him, so that as I descended he could hold
-me from below like a weight on a rope passing through a pulley—the
-loop in this case performing the functions of the pulley—and check any
-disposition on my part to fall. Safe on the ledge, I recovered the rope
-by simply pulling on my end until the other passed through the noose.
-This and similar methods of descending difficult pitches of rock or ice
-are known to the mountaineer as “roping down.”</p>
-
-<p>A brief scramble over easy rocks led to the upper edge of another
-vertical step in the ridge, where we again roped down. This pitch,
-however, was much longer than the last and, in addition, it partially
-overhung. Here and there, also, it was plastered up with ice that was
-softening in the warm rays of the sun. It was practically impossible to
-climb, and for most of the way down I hung with my full weight on the
-rope while Max paid it out. The ledge on which we now stood was on the
-south side of the ridge, the backbone of which we soon regained by an
-easy traverse over good broken up rock to the left. Here we made the
-aggravating discovery that, by previously adhering to the crest, we had
-missed a perfectly simple line of descent on the other side.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<div class="picpage">
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img07">
-<img src="images/img07.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone b2"><i>Climbing down a steep ridge.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img08">
-<img src="images/img08.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone"><i>The short cut—roping down.</i></p>
-<p class="right50 small"><i>Facing page 48.</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>The way to the Mitteljoch, the depression on the ridge between the
-Mittelhorn and the Rosenhorn, was now clear. A few easy rocks followed
-by soft snow slopes brought us to the foot of a great rock pinnacle or
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>. This was easily avoided by skirting round its base on
-the north side, keeping as high as possible in the steep snow slopes
-below its rocky flank. Before midday, we arrived at the foot of the
-north-west ridge of the Rosenhorn and began climbing over the array
-of bold, red-brown rock teeth that form its crown. For nearly two
-hours, keeping well to the crest of the ridge, we scrambled merrily
-over <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> after <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>, finding the rock good
-and reliable on the whole, with little danger of foot- or handholds
-breaking away. Sturgess was feeling rather tired and occasionally
-required help. One extra long and steep crack taxed his powers to the
-utmost. A pull on the rope from above, however, and a push from below
-enabled him to drag himself on to the almost level platform at the
-top of the pinnacle, where for several minutes he lay and gasped like
-a fish out of water. Shortly after one o’clock the difficulties were
-over, and, seeing in front of us nothing more than an easy scramble to
-the summit, we settled down to a rest and a meal.</p>
-
-<p>The cold wind to which we had hitherto been exposed had dropped,
-and the sun beat warmly down upon us from an almost cloudless sky.
-Presently I became assailed with doubts as to whether the highest point
-visible were really the summit or merely masking a loftier eminence
-farther along the ridge. To settle the question, I unroped and set off
-alone. An hour’s easy clamber brought me to the point in question, to
-discover to my intense satisfaction that it actually was the summit
-of the Rosenhorn. I shouted the good news down to the others who were
-already making their way up towards me. At the same moment I found
-that my knapsack had been left behind at our resting-place. As Max and
-Sturgess had both overlooked it, I hurried down past them, retrieved my
-property and, climbing back in all haste, overtook them just below the
-top. At 3 p.m. all three stood on the summit. Sturgess immediately set
-about finding a comfortable couch for himself on a smooth, horizontal
-slab where he dozed while Max and I got busy with the cooker. An hour
-sped by quickly enough<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> to the pleasant accompaniment of the munching
-of stout sandwiches washed down by copious draughts of hot tea.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile the weather was changing for the worse. A south wind had
-sprung up; great, woolly cumulus clouds had gathered on the horizon
-and were rolling over towards us. It was evident that a thunderstorm
-was imminent. So at four o’clock we packed up, re-roped and moved off
-along the south-west ridge over which the mountain is usually climbed.
-Relieving Sturgess of his knapsack, we climbed over a rocky point
-which is almost as high as the summit itself, and were soon making
-our way down over the easy rocks to the snow slopes leading to the
-Rosenegg. Curving round to the left, we then ploughed our way across
-the Wetterkessel in the direction of the Dossenhorn. The noonday sun
-had softened the snow, and at every step one sank almost to the knees
-in slush. Coming as it did at the end of a long day, the making of
-the track was toilsome in the extreme, and Max and I took the lead in
-turns. Sturgess, however, showed such hopeful signs of recovering his
-energies that we finally decided to regain the hut by climbing over
-the Dossenhorn instead of only crossing the Sattel. By so doing, one
-more summit would be added to the three already bagged—an important
-consideration in our early mountaineering days. The decision involved
-a slight change in route. Making for the Renfenjoch, the depression
-at the foot of the Dossenhorn, we struggled up through the soft, wet
-snow and at last gained the rocks of the south ridge of the mountain.
-Thence to the summit was an uneventful climb over good firm rock. We
-lost no time on the top. There was no view to be seen, for thick mists
-swirled round us and it began to sleet. Soon Max was swallowed up in
-fog as I paid out his rope while he descended the steep rocks in the
-direction of the hut. When<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> he had called out that he had found good,
-firm standing ground, Sturgess followed, while by a steady hold on his
-rope I checked any tendency on his part to gain too much momentum.
-Soon after leaving the summit the electricity of the highly-charged
-atmosphere surrounding us began to discharge itself slowly through our
-axes and the sodden rope, making a noise like the tearing of linen.
-Fearing the possibility of a more violent lightning-like discharge,
-we moved out on to the western flank of the ridge and hurried along
-with the greatest speed compatible with safety. We encountered no
-further difficulties and at length, at 7 p.m., after an absence of
-over seventeen hours, regained the Dossen hut, but not before we had
-been drenched to the skin by a torrential downpour of rain that had
-superseded the sleet.</p>
-
-<p>Our gallant beginner showed naturally great fatigue, but we rubbed
-him until he was warm again and rolled him up in blankets. Max and I
-then prepared a hot meal and changed our sodden clothing as far as
-the presence of a party of ladies, who with their guides were bent on
-climbing the Dossenhorn on the morrow, would permit. Good food followed
-by a night’s rest worked wonders for Sturgess who soon recovered
-from the effects of his hardships. He was a stout fellow, keen,
-uncomplaining and always ready to do his best, and had indeed acquitted
-himself splendidly on this, his first great mountain climb.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE JUNGFRAU</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">A glance</span> at the map of the Bernese Oberland will show that a straight
-line drawn in a north-easterly direction from the Breithorn to the
-Eiger will pass through, or close to, the Grosshorn, Mittaghorn,
-Ebnefluh, Jungfrau and Mönch. The ridge connecting these great peaks
-forms a lofty watershed flanked on the south by gently-rising glacier
-slopes and on the north by precipitous ice-clad cliffs and icefalls.
-Almost every route, therefore, leading from the north across this
-great connecting ridge constitutes an arduous ice-climb followed by
-a comparatively easy descent on the south side. Small wonder, then,
-that the guides of the Oberland, who live in close proximity to such a
-wonderful training ground, excel all others in the art of snow and ice
-mountaineering.</p>
-
-<p>The ascent of the north face of the Jungfrau is reputed to be one of
-the finest ice expeditions in the Alps and, as such, attracted the
-boyish attention of my brother and me, incited as we were even in
-the earliest days of our climbing career by the picture of Himalayan
-adventure that hovered in the background of our minds. In the event
-of the picture coming to life, ice work, we felt sure, would stand
-us in better stead than mere agility on rock, and it was, therefore,
-our endeavour to perfect ourselves as far as possible in the more
-serious side of mountaineering, that is, in the intricacies of snow and
-ice-craft. The north face of the Jungfrau presents itself to the eye
-as an imposing edifice built up of glistening, greenish-white terraces
-of ice and snow of such purity that it were almost desecration to set
-human foot upon them. To the mountaineer, who is perhaps actuated
-less by poetic imagination than by the virile desire to pit his puny
-strength against a much stronger force, these great terraces become
-but the stepping-stones on the road to the summit. In number they are
-five—the upper reaches of the Guggi Glacier, the Kühlauenen Glacier,
-the Giessenmulde, the Silbermulde and the Hochfirn—forming a wonderful
-spiral staircase, as it were, betwixt earth and heaven. No better field
-could be found in which to test our skill and improve our knowledge;
-and it was this ambitious climb that figured next to the Wetterhorn in
-our programme for the summer of 1909.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img09">
-<img src="images/img09.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The north face of the Jungfrau.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... an imposing edifice of glistening terraces of ice and snow....”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 52.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Max, Sturgess and I, after traversing the three summits of the
-Wetterhorn, left the Dossen hut on July 27 for Rosenlaui, and thence
-walked over the Great Scheidegg to Grindelwald where we arrived with
-barely an hour to spare before the last train of the day was due to
-leave for the Little Scheidegg. That hour was a crowded one. Boots
-required re-nailing and patching up, a stock of provisions sufficient
-for eight days had to be laid in, and all superfluous baggage bundled
-up and posted off to Zermatt, our next port of call in the valleys.
-We spread out into the village bazaar where, thanks to a good
-distribution of labour and unstinting use of what we were pleased
-to imagine was Swiss-German, we stirred up the kindly but stolid
-Grindelwald shopkeepers to unwonted activity and succeeded in arriving
-at the station just on time. The spectacle we presented—dissolving
-in perspiration, weighed down by bulging knapsacks, with climbing
-irons, cooking apparatus and ropes slung on anyhow, loaves of bread
-tucked under our arms—caused some merriment amongst<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> the trippers
-who thronged the waiting train. However, we succeeded in finding room
-for ourselves and belongings and utilised the leisure afforded by
-the journey up to the Little Scheidegg in repacking stores in more
-convenient and comfortable fashion. We also made the acquaintance of
-the famous Swiss climber, the late <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Andreas Fischer who, with the
-two guides Hans Almer (son of Christian Almer, in his time the greatest
-of Swiss guides) and Ulrich Almer (son of Ulrich, Christian’s almost
-equally renowned brother), was, like us, bound for the Guggi hut. All
-three were extremely kind to us. We told <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer that Max and I
-intended to climb the Jungfrau from the Guggi hut. Somewhat amazed
-and not a little concerned at this bold project on the part of two
-mere boys, he urged us to be careful. When we assured him, however,
-that we were fully aware of the toughness of the impending task and
-intended to spend at least one whole day in reconnoitring the way and
-cutting the necessary steps up as far as the Schneehorn, he saw that
-we meant business and returned our confidences by telling us of his
-own ambitious plans, from which it appeared that our roads would lie
-together as far as the Schneehorn. There, however, our ways would
-part, for it was his intention to cut up long and tremendously steep
-ice slopes to the then unascended north-east ridge of the Jungfrau and
-climb over that ridge to the summit.</p>
-
-<p>In spite of the novelty of our surroundings and the wonderful aspect of
-the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau as seen from this side, the walk from the
-Scheidegg over the Eiger Glacier to the hut was, for us with our heavy
-loads, far from being a pleasure. More lightly laden, Fischer and his
-guides soon outstripped us, and it was with a sigh of relief that, just
-before nightfall, we arrived at our destination.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p>
-
-<p>The old Guggi hut, now almost disused, is one of the smallest in the
-Alps, measuring as it does in floor space only ten feet by twelve.
-In 1909 more than half that space was taken up by two tiers of
-straw-filled sleeping bunks, and what remained was largely exhausted
-by a tiny stove and rickety table. Within comfortable walking distance
-of the Eiger Glacier station of the Jungfrau railway, the hut is
-frequently visited by trippers, a section of the community noted in the
-Alps for the trail of disorder they leave behind them; and we arrived
-to find the Almers endeavouring to clear up the pigsty condition in
-which they had found our resting-place for the night. We lent a hand
-and, a semblance of tidiness once more restored, prepared a simple
-dinner and turned in to sleep. There was a rug for each man and one
-huge horse blanket which sufficed to cover us all, so we slept warmly.</p>
-
-<p>Shortly after midnight the disturbing ring of my alarum watch drove
-us forth to inspect the weather. The night air was warm, and long
-streaks of fish-shaped clouds in the west threatened trouble. Fischer’s
-party required settled weather for their expedition, and as on the
-first day we only intended prospecting as far as the Schneehorn and
-could, therefore, afford to wait for an hour or two, all turned in
-again to sleep while waiting for the weather to show its hand. At 1
-a.m. Max and I became impatient. Prospects were still doubtful, though
-for our purposes fair enough. The Almers could not make up their
-minds to start; but we, not so dependent upon the weather, decided
-to clear for action. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer now came forward with a plan which,
-even then, I realised was prompted by his anxiety for our safety and
-the liking which he had already formed for us. He suggested that
-we should join forces and go together as far as the rocks of the
-Schneehorn and bivouac there for the night. Next morning, weather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>
-permitting, we could then complete our climb, and he and his guides
-would carry on with their great task. We at once fell in with this
-generous proposal. Hans and Ulrich, hitherto obviously downhearted at
-the idea of a day’s idleness, now brightened up. One by one we crawled
-out of our bunks—the cramped space would not allow all to get up
-together—and while the cooks monopolised the interior, the rest of us
-busied ourselves outside the hut, groping for clothes in the darkness,
-seeking the more elusive garments with matches and generally completing
-our toilet under difficulties. Breakfast, coming so soon after a
-late supper, was but a shadow of a meal; and it was barely half-past
-one when, shod with climbing irons, we put on the rope and, bidding
-good-bye to Sturgess who intended returning to Grindelwald in the
-course of the day, stepped forth with lighted lanterns into the night.</p>
-
-<p>With a few steps we had left the ridge upon which the hut stands and
-were proceeding through the icefall of the Guggi Glacier. Max and I
-had an easy time of it here. We could not risk wounding the feelings
-of such splendid guides as the Almers by offering to take our share in
-finding the way, and therefore had to content ourselves by following in
-our best style, always paying attention to the correct handling of the
-rope. Once, while making our way round the corner of an ice pinnacle
-below which yawned the black depths of an appalling crevasse, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr>
-Fischer expressed anxiety for our safety. But Hans, watching us coming
-along, reassured him: “They are sure-footed like cats; they know how to
-use the rope; they are quite safe”: ample reward for the self-restraint
-we had imposed upon ourselves in not attempting to take the lead. Young
-Ulrich, who went ahead, had plenty to do. The icefall is very broken
-up. Clambering over or round, or even under enormous séracs, towering
-all about us like the suddenly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> frozen waves of a storm-tossed sea,
-we gradually made our way upwards, amidst a brooding, gloomy silence
-that was rendered more vast and impressive by the occasional chipping
-of Ulrich’s axe, the tinkling of fragments of falling ice and the
-crunching sound of the climbing irons as their sharp points bit at each
-step into the ice.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img10">
-<img src="images/img10.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The icefall of the Guggi Glacier.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 56.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Almost at the head of this first icefall we encountered the most
-serious of its defensive barriers. A huge crevasse, a great open gash,
-stretched across our path and was lost in the darkness, its bottom far
-beyond the reach of the dim light of the lanterns. Hans having paid us
-the compliment of asking us to explore out to the left while his party
-reconnoitred to the right, we were fortunate in soon discovering a
-solution to the problem in the shape of a slender flake of ice forming
-a fragile bridge. After some judicious step-cutting, the flake being
-too frail to endure much belabouring, we were across and shouting the
-news of our success to the others, already returning from a fruitless
-search.</p>
-
-<p>All now lay clear before us up to the foot of the second icefall,
-where the Kühlauenen Glacier tumbles down on to the Guggi in a mighty
-mass of séracs. Uncrevassed slopes, gentle at first but rising up more
-steeply as we mounted higher, brought us rapidly to the foot of the
-icefall where we foregathered and studied the outlook while waiting for
-the pale light of dawn to enable us to stow away the lanterns. Beyond
-the frozen torrent of séracs merging into the Guggi Glacier stretched
-a great vertical wall of ice, a gaunt, lofty rampart forty to sixty
-feet high, which gleamed clear and unbroken in the cold, grey light
-from under the cliffs of the Mönch right round to the rocks of the
-Schneehorn. It was plain that the obstacle could not be turned; the
-flanks were too well guarded by steep ice-glazed and avalanche-swept
-rocks. Yet nowhere<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> was there apparent a flaw which would aid the
-besieger. In Hans Almer, however, there was no lack of decision.
-He seemed to act on the principle of poking his nose right into a
-difficulty in searching for its key. Presently, with a cheery “Come
-along!” he cut ahead and, with amazing speed, worked his way through
-a steep tangle of crevasses and séracs, never at fault for a means
-of negotiating the many obstructions met with, until we arrived on a
-débris-strewn ledge at the base of the great ice cliff. Haste had been
-imperative, for almost throughout this passage we had been endangered
-by lurching monsters of séracs. It is true we were still in the shade,
-and according to the best authorities séracs do not fall until the
-warmth of the sun’s rays or the hot breath of the föhn wind strikes
-upon them. Later in the day Hans emphatically characterised such
-beliefs as “Unsinn,” and told me that, in his experience, séracs fell
-just when they thought fit and often displayed the greatest activity
-on cold and frosty nights when it behoved them to be asleep. My later
-observations tend to show that the falling of séracs is most likely to
-occur just before sunrise, during the coldest hours of the night. On
-the east face of Monte Rosa I once counted sixteen falls of ice and
-séracs between 3 and 4.30 a.m., eleven between 6 and 8 a.m. and two
-between 3 and 4 p.m.</p>
-
-<p>The swift scramble up the séracs had somewhat robbed us of our breath,
-and we welcomed the brief halt which a search for a possible breach
-in the great ice wall before us demanded. Immediately above, the wall
-showed sure signs of disintegration; several great sheets of ice were
-in process of detaching themselves. One monster, fully fifty feet in
-height, leaned forward in an ominous manner. As its fall would have
-strewn with blocks the ledge where we stood, Hans moved over to the
-right where a great square-cut<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> bastion of undoubted firmness afforded
-security from the perils of falling ice. From here we sighted the one
-and only weak spot we were ever able to detect in the great barrier. A
-huge crevasse in the glacier above cleft the wall in twain, and were
-it but possible to gain the floor of this crevasse, the problem of
-surmounting the wall itself would no more exist. But the approach to
-the chasm was defended by an immense archway of rickety séracs which
-looked ready to collapse at any moment. The presence of masses of very
-broken ice under the archway promised slow and, therefore, unsafe
-progress, and Hans decided that we must look round for another way out
-of our trouble. Max and I were told to climb to the top of the bastion
-now shielding us and to report on the prospects as seen from up there.
-The others, bent on a similar mission, moved along the ledge towards
-the Schneehorn rocks. But neither party had any luck; there remained
-nothing but to risk the archway passage or retire, beaten. We were
-on the point of leaving the issue to chance by tossing a coin, when
-nature stepped in and providentially staged a thrill. Suddenly a loud
-crashing as of thunder was heard, and the ground upon which we stood
-trembled and shook under the impact of tons of ice blocks; dense clouds
-of ice dust filled the air and, enveloping us, hid everything from
-view. As the mists slowly thinned we saw that the giant archway had
-fallen in. The ruins, choking up the floor of the crevasse, furnished
-us with a causeway giving egress to the glacier above. The god had
-indeed descended from his chariot. Without the necessity of cutting a
-single step, we arrived a few minutes later on the almost level plateau
-of the Kühlauenen Glacier, the second of the five glacier plateaux
-characteristic of the north face of the Jungfrau.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, the weather had not improved. By now we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> ought to have
-been able to bask in the warm rays of the rising sun, but fish-shaped
-clouds filled the morning sky, and great masses of clammy mist floated
-up the Guggi Glacier and rolled down upon us from the Jungfraujoch.
-A snowstorm was brewing. We sat down in the snow for a rest and,
-while eating a few biscuits, noted the best point for crossing the
-bergschrund which defends the approach to the rocks of the Schneehorn.
-The mists had closed in ere we began the final stage of the day’s work.
-Largely filled up with masses of snow and fallen stones, the schrund
-was easily crossed, and, walking up a short slope of good snow, we
-soon gained the rocks which were dry and firm and nowhere actually
-difficult. Knowing our dislike for merely following in the footsteps of
-others, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer tactfully encouraged us to choose our own line of
-ascent. So henceforward we climbed on a level with, and some distance
-out to the left of, his party.</p>
-
-<p>At 9 a.m. we arrived at a point about half-way between the bergschrund
-and the summit of the Schneehorn and, observing that the rocks higher
-up were sprinkled with new snow, decided to look round for a suitable
-site to bivouac. Failing to find a platform large enough to seat all
-five together, we rummaged about in detachments for convenient ledges
-and eventually settled down within speaking distance of each other.</p>
-
-<p>The ledge chosen by Max and myself was small and narrow. With our backs
-to the wall above and feet dangling over the cliff falling away to the
-glacier below, we planted the cooking apparatus between us. The next
-two hours were spent partly in attending to cooking operations and
-partly in chipping Hans Almer who, every few minutes thinking he espied
-a more suitable abode than the one he was occupying at the time, was
-continually on the move changing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> house. At 11 a.m. it began to snow in
-a desultory, intermittent manner. Then came a sleet and hail storm with
-chilly gusts of wind from which there was no sheltering. Before midday
-it snowed in real earnest, and it was obvious that, unless an immediate
-change set in, there could be no hope of our continuing the climb next
-day. New snow lay two inches deep over the rocks when, at one o’clock,
-<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer gave the word for retreat.</p>
-
-<p>The descent over the now snow-covered rocks demanded great care; but,
-once down on the glacier, we plunged in long strides over to the
-crevasse in the great ice wall. The steps of the morning were all
-obliterated, but, unhesitatingly and in spite of the mist and snow,
-Hans unravelled his way through the séracs and presently brought us
-out on to the Guggi Glacier. <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer elected to rest here; but
-Hans told us to go straight on, advising us not to retrace the line
-of previous ascent, but to try and get through over on the right bank
-close under the rocks of the Mönch. Acting on his advice we found there
-a good way and at 3 p.m. were safely back in the hut.</p>
-
-<p>Presently <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer’s party arrived and, after a brief halt, returned
-to Grindelwald to await more auspicious weather. Max and I, having a
-stock of provisions sufficient for more than a week, could afford to
-wait on the spot, ready to drive home a renewed attack as soon as the
-weather cleared. In the early hours of the morning of July 29, the sky
-was still overcast; so we slept on well into the day, awaking, too
-late for breakfast yet too early for lunch, to find the sun blazing
-down from a cloudless sky and dissolving the rolling billows of
-cloud in the valleys below. After an orgy of a meal that we elected
-to call “brunch,” we basked on the roof of the hut until, early in
-the afternoon, the sun sank<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> behind the Jungfrau. Towards evening
-we carried our surplus provisions over to the Eiger Glacier to be
-forwarded by rail to the Eismeer station. On returning to the Guggi
-hut, we found <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer and his guides once more installed therein,
-full of confidence in the prospects.</p>
-
-<p>At 2 a.m. on July 30, we again set forth on our quest. Not a breath
-of wind stirred; the sky was cloudless. Hans Almer sent us on ahead
-to lead the way. Knowing the ground well now, we forged up through
-the first icefall and came to a halt on the gentle snow slopes at the
-foot of the Kühlauenen Glacier icefall, there to await the arrival of
-the others. They had no sooner reached us than <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer found that
-he had lost his tea flask, so he and Hans went back to look for it.
-In the meanwhile Ulrich and we two shivered and stamped about in a
-vain endeavour to keep warm. Just as it was becoming light enough to
-dispense with the lanterns, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer rejoined us, having found his
-precious flask in the snow at the very edge of an immense crevasse just
-above the Guggi icefall.</p>
-
-<p>By 5 a.m. we were walking over the almost level basin of the Kühlauenen
-Glacier and soon afterwards were grappling with the rocks of the
-Schneehorn—no longer without difficulty, for much fresh snow hampered
-us in the finding of foot- and handholds. Beyond the site of our
-bivouac of two days ago, we found the rocks so buried in snow that Hans
-had to clear a way with his axe. Progress was accordingly slow, and
-it was not until 7 o’clock that, cutting through the little cornice
-at the head of the final, short, steep, snow slope over which the
-summit of the Schneehorn (11,200 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) is approached, we set foot on the
-Giessenmulde, the third of the five plateaux. Henceforward our ways
-lay apart. While Max and I were bound for the direction of the Little
-Silberhorn, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer and his guides were to turn off to the south
-towards the immense slopes of gleaming ice leading up to the north-east
-ridge of the Jungfrau. But so quickly are friendships formed in the
-mountains that already, after such a brief acquaintance, we were by no
-means loth to retard the hour of parting by settling down to breakfast.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img11">
-<img src="images/img11.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption">“<i>We basked on the roof of the Guggi hut.</i>”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 62.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>At a quarter past seven <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer said, “Now then, you boys, it’s
-time you were off!” and, after bidding an “Au revoir” all-round and
-expressing the hope that we would meet on the summit, Max and I got
-under way. While crossing the level, hard-frozen snow surface of the
-Giessenmulde, we had ample time to study the icefall guarding the
-approach to the Silbermulde, the fourth glacier plateau. This icefall
-was obviously formidable, and it looked as if a huge, unbridged
-crevasse which cut across it might prove, if not insuperable, at all
-events a source of much delay. The icy north-east ridge of the little
-Silberhorn, however, offered a sure, even if arduous, means of flanking
-the obstacle; and we quickly decided to choose the harder work of
-cutting up this ridge in safety, in preference to the less laborious
-but much more uncertain and, on account of possible falls of ice,
-perhaps dangerous passage through the icefall. The ridge was covered
-with a thick layer of crystals of rotten ice, in which two, or at the
-most three, well-directed blows of the axe sufficed to make a good
-step. Working hard and as fast as possible, we rose so rapidly that,
-half an hour after leaving the others who were now just beginning to
-tackle their big ice slope, we arrived on the beautifully curved ice
-ridge which forms the summit of the little Silberhorn. After a brief
-descent, we crossed the Silbermulde and faced the next difficulties,
-a great bergschrund and a short, but very steep, ice slope below the
-Silbersattel. Over to the left, away from the Silbersattel, the two
-edges<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> of the bergschrund approached more closely together, so that by
-discarding my rucksack and standing on Max’s shoulder I was able to
-effect a lodgment on the slope above. I then saw that, to get over to
-the Silbersattel, handholds and footholds would have to be cut round to
-the right, past an almost vertical ice bulge. Only the right hand could
-be used to ply the axe; the left would be fully occupied in holding on.
-Max unroped and tied himself on again, but this time at the extreme end
-of the hundred-and-fifty-foot rope; then, after carefully working round
-the bulge, I was able to cut straight up into the Silbersattel where,
-finding good standing ground, I held the rope firmly and afforded Max,
-with his double burden of rucksacks, the necessary assistance over the
-bergschrund and round the bulge. It is quite probable that in some
-seasons this obstacle may prove impassable. The Silberlücke, however,
-could always be gained by crossing the Silberhorn, a roundabout
-route which would entail some loss of time. The ridge known as the
-Silbergrat, stretching up before us to the Hochfirn, commences in a
-great rock pinnacle which looked difficult, but was, with the ensuing
-ridge of good firm rock, quite easy, though enthrallingly interesting
-in view of the dizzy precipices that fall away to the Lauterbrunnen
-Valley. Higher up, cornices, wind-whirled into fantastic shapes,
-crowned the ridge. We hacked them down and strode triumphant over
-their battered remains until at length the rocks merged into a slender
-snow-crest, along which, swinging the axe in rhythm with our pace and
-leaving a step after each blow, we passed quickly over to the Hochfirn,
-up which, almost knee-deep in soft snow, we laboriously plodded our way.</p>
-
-<p>The day was now won; no further difficulty lay between us and the
-summit. It was still early, and time was our own to squander as we
-willed; so, veering towards the left, we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> stamped through deep snow
-up on to the Wengern Jungfrau (13,320 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), the lower summit of the
-Jungfrau, in order to see how <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer’s party were progressing.
-They were still far below the north-east ridge—three tiny black dots
-sticking like flies to the smooth, glassy wall. Our shouts of triumph
-were faintly echoed by them; then, realising that there would be no
-chance of our meeting up here, we turned towards the true summit of
-the Jungfrau (13,668 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) and, walking up the easy rocks of the south
-ridge, soon gained the top. It was 11 a.m.; we had been in all only
-nine hours <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i>, and of those nearly one hour had been spent
-down below the Kühlauenen icefall, awaiting dawn.</p>
-
-<p>As on our last visit to the Jungfrau, the view was clear. To the north
-we looked down into the valleys of the Bernese Oberland, invitingly
-clad in the soft, restful colourings of forest, pastureland and lake.
-Southwards, the gaze passed over glaciers and snow-clad mountains,
-through the bluish haze rising from the dark rift of the Rhône Valley
-to beyond the Pennine Alps, and lingered at last on the glistening snow
-cap of Mont Blanc. The hardest part of the day’s work was over. The air
-was warm, still and languorous, so, after setting the cooking apparatus
-on to melt snow for a brew of tea and having, by way of precaution
-against the consequences of any tendency to sleep walk, belayed the
-rope to our axes driven deep into the snow, we lay down and were soon
-wrapt in slumber.</p>
-
-<p>Two hours later we awoke at the chill touch of a gust of wind. Clouds
-hovered all around, warning us of the approach of yet another spell
-of bad weather. We finished lunch and made ready for the descent by
-the ordinary route to the Bergli hut. As was to be expected, we found
-a beautiful staircase of immense steps already cut in the moderately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>
-steep snow slope leading down to the Rotthal Sattel. The bergschrund
-below the saddle was smaller than we had ever known it before, and soon
-we were plodding a monotonous way over the Jungfrau Glacier through
-the now thoroughly softened snow towards the Mönchjoch. There was not
-a breath of wind; and so fiercely did the sun blaze that we almost
-marvelled that the whole glacier did not turn to water. At 4 p.m. we
-arrived at the Bergli hut. The sky had become completely overcast; but,
-though the sun was obscured, the air was hot and stifling. A break in
-the weather seemed certain; a matter of small concern to us, however,
-for our labours had been so strenuous that a day of enforced idleness
-was a welcome prospect. At 6 o’clock we turned in and slept peacefully
-and uninterruptedly until 8 a.m. next morning.</p>
-
-<p><abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Fischer and the Almers had arrived at the hut about midnight.
-They had gained the north-east ridge, only to be driven down to the
-Jungfrau Glacier by bad weather. Snow-glasses are apt to disturb one’s
-aim when cutting steps, and as the Almers, for this reason, had not
-worn theirs during the ascent of the great ice slope, they were now
-snowblind and in considerable pain. But they were a merry pair of
-companions notwithstanding. After a joint breakfast, we all went over
-to the Eismeer station, Fischer and the Almers leaving for Grindelwald
-while Max and I returned to the Bergli hut with a fresh supply of
-stores. Early in the afternoon the weather showed unmistakable
-signs of mending, so we settled down to try and shape our somewhat
-uncertain plans for the future. Our first big ice-climb had left us
-with a voracious appetite for more. The wicked, green shimmer of the
-appallingly steep ice slope leading from the Kühlauenen Glacier up to
-the Jungfraujoch held out a persistent challenge. But how to get there
-from the Bergli hut? The solution was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> simple, if perhaps a little
-ambitious: climb the Jungfrau, descend the north face to the Kühlauenen
-Glacier, and then cross over the Jungfraujoch to the Concordia hut. The
-north face had already so far exceeded our expectations for ice work
-and wonderful scenery that there was no fear of our finding a renewed
-visit dull. The ascent to the Jungfraujoch would provide some hours of
-continuous step-cutting, and we were still in need of practice with
-the ice-axe. Furthermore, by descending to the Concordia hut we should
-find ourselves well on the way to Zermatt. Fair dreamstuff for the
-mountain-mad! Content and expectant, we turned in to sleep.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE JUNGFRAU AND THE JUNGFRAUJOCH</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">On</span> reading the early annals of the Alpine Club, one cannot but be
-struck by the outstanding popularity of snow and ice-climbs and by
-the standard of efficiency reached in such climbs by the pioneers.
-The climber of to-day has added but few to the long list of wonderful
-ice-climbs that stand to the credit of his forerunner in the sixties.
-Ice-climbing has fallen into disfavour, but immense progress has been
-made in rock-climbing—a deplorable but readily explicable state of
-affairs. Since the early days, the army of climbers has become greatly
-inflated and embraces many who can spend only some short two summer
-weeks in the mountains. It is but natural that they should take the
-shortest way of getting to the summit. The novice who is sound in wind
-and limb can do well on rocks even at his first attempt. The traces of
-the man who was there before him still show clearly. Little scratches
-tell where to look for hand- and footholds and are reassuring testimony
-that another has accomplished and, therefore, encouragement to emulate.
-The rocky way does not change from day to day and but little from year
-to year, and with every fresh scratch the route becomes more easy for
-the next climber, so powerful a stimulant to the human will is the
-knowledge that another has attained. Thus even the greatest rock-climb
-becomes in time a gymnastic feat, a trial of purely physical strength.
-But there is no royal road to becoming a great ice-climber. Much spade
-work, both<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> practical and theoretical, and demanding time, hard work,
-conscientiousness and unbounded enthusiasm, has to be done. Snow, sun,
-wind and the eternal flow of ice obliterate all comforting tracks, and
-the ice-mountaineer has to choose and make his own route. Thus the true
-ice-climber is always a pioneer.</p>
-
-<p>It is obvious that the would-be ice-climber must learn the art of
-cutting steps in ice or hard-frozen snow. A step can be fashioned
-with almost any sufficiently hard and pointed instrument. I once cut
-four steps with the big blade of a pocket-knife; on another occasion
-I made several with a sharp-pointed bit of granite. The steps were
-almost as good as if they had been hewn out by the orthodox weapon,
-the ice-axe; but in each instance the process involved a far greater
-expenditure of time and labour than would have been the case had I
-been properly equipped. The ice-axe is the best step-cutting implement
-known; but there are axes <em>and</em> axes. As differ the makeshift and
-the inferior axe, so differ the inferior axe and the good axe. Both the
-makeshift and the inferior axe are spendthrifts of time and energy.
-When only a few occasional steps have to be cut, the consideration of a
-moment’s waste here and there may be negligible; but on an expedition
-where step-cutting is the order of the day, prodigality of humble
-seconds makes a mighty total that cannot be ignored. A first-class axe
-is a <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">sine quâ non</i>. What, then, is the criterion of a really
-useful axe?</p>
-
-<p>It may be stated without much fear of contradiction that only the
-craftsman who knows how to use the implement of his craft can express a
-sound opinion as to the merits of any particular example of that type
-of implement. Strange, then, it is that nearly all climbers will take
-hold of an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> ice-axe and, wisely shaking their heads and furrowing their
-brows, proceed to pronounce judgment upon it, despite the fact that
-it is common knowledge amongst trained and experienced mountaineers,
-both amateur and professional, that more than ninety-nine per cent.
-of the climbing fraternity are ignorant, not only of the art of
-step-cutting, but also of many of the other important uses to which an
-axe may be put. It should be noted that there is all the difference
-in the world between cutting a few incidental steps and undertaking
-the lead on an expedition where step-cutting is the rule. For the
-vast majority the ice-axe is, in reality, an unmitigated nuisance; a
-thing that is always getting in the way; too cumbersome to use as a
-walking-stick; a collection of sharp, steely points and edges ever
-making painful contact with the more vulnerable portions of both his
-and other people’s anatomy; an immobiliser of a hand sorely needed to
-clutch at handholds; twenty-five francs’ worth of uselessness, and
-often to be renewed because of its remarkable propensity for falling
-down cliffs and its owner’s no less remarkable propensity for throwing
-it away whenever he slips; an inferior opener of tins and a mangler of
-the contents thereof; a poor instrument for driving in nails and no
-respecter of fingers. All save a small minority of climbers would be
-far better served by a stout, crook-handled walking-stick which can
-almost always be induced to perform at least the one function implied
-in its name.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<span id="img12">
-<img src="images/img12.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span>
-</div>
-
-<p>The two most important uses to which the mountaineer expects to put his
-axe being to cut steps in ice or snow and to employ it as a belay when
-driven into either, the design of an axe should be governed largely
-by these two requirements. The different parts of an ice-axe are as
-follows:—The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> head consists of the pick (with the straight, curve and
-point), the centre-piece, the blade (which is connected to the rest
-of the head by the neck), and the two fingers by means of which the
-head is attached to the thicker end of the shaft. The other end of the
-shaft carries the ferrule and spike. The head of the axe should be
-hand-forged, and the metal must be neither so soft that it bends easily
-nor so hard that it is readily fractured. Measured from the middle of
-the centre-piece, the lengths of pick and blade should be 8 <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> to 8¹⁄₂
-<abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> and 4¹⁄₄ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> respectively. The straight of the pick should form a
-right angle with the axis of the shaft. If the angle is more or less
-than a right angle, excessive vibration of most unpleasant character
-is readily set up while cutting steps. The width of the cutting edge
-of the blade should be from 2¹⁄₄ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> to 2¹⁄₂ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> The fingers should
-not be less than 6¹⁄₂ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> in length, and the rivets by means of which
-they are attached to the shaft must not exceed three in number. As
-they pass right through the wood, they tend to weaken the shaft and
-must not, therefore, be unduly multiplied. The shaft of the axe should
-be made from well-seasoned, straight and fairly close-grained ash and
-occasionally dressed with linseed oil. For a man about six feet in
-height, an overall length of 33 <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> to 35 <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> is the most suitable. A
-shorter man would do well to use a shorter axe. A longer axe gets in
-the way more easily, is more difficult to handle, disturbs the aim and,
-on account of the greater vibration set up at each blow, unduly tires
-the hands and is liable to cause blisters. For similar reasons, the
-shaft should not be round in section but elliptical. A round shaft does
-not fit so closely into the hand and, weight for weight, is also less
-strong than the oval one. At the head, where the fingers are attached
-to the shaft, the larger diameter should be 1¹⁄₂ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr>, the smaller ⁷⁄₈
-<abbr title="inch">in.</abbr>, tapering at the ferrule to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> 1¹⁄₄ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> and ¹³⁄₁₆ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> respectively.
-Some climbers tack a leather ring or similar protuberance round the
-shaft, a few inches above the ferrule, with the object of affording a
-better grip and so preventing the axe from slipping through the hand
-when cutting steps. Apart from the fact that there is no reason why an
-axe should not be grasped in such a manner that it does not slip in
-the hand, such a contrivance is liable to cause blisters and seriously
-interferes with an important function of the axe, namely, the testing
-of snow bridges over crevasses and otherwise sounding the condition of
-snow. Some makers construct the ferrule and spike in one piece. Such
-an arrangement lacks the strength of the simple ferrule and spike made
-separately. The ferrule should not be too short, or it may fail to hold
-the spike or give sufficient protection to the shaft. The protruding
-portion of the spike should be 2¹⁄₂ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> to 2³⁄₄ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> long, of square
-section ⁹⁄₁₆ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> where it emerges from the shaft and tapering off to a
-rounded point. Many amateur climbers adorn the heads of their axes with
-slings made of leather or of some woven material, the object being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>
-to enable the owner to carry his axe by passing the sling over the
-wrist and thus leave the hand free for climbing. This is a dangerous
-practice. An axe carried in this manner is liable to get caught up in
-the rock and may thus lead to a serious disturbance of the climber’s
-balance. Furthermore, such slings must be removed when step-cutting is
-necessary. The proper way to carry an axe, when climbing rock where
-one does not wish to have a hand encumbered, is either to tuck it into
-the rope at one’s waist or hang it through a small loop at the back of
-one’s rucksack. So placed, it can be readily and without loss of time
-taken out when wanted and as easily put back. On very long rock-climbs,
-where the axe is perhaps not needed for hours on end, probably the best
-way to carry it is to pack it head downwards into one’s rucksack with
-the spike end protruding at the top.</p>
-
-<p>Climbing irons, also known as crampons, or ice-claws, are of the
-greatest assistance to those mountaineers who know how to use them. A
-climbing iron consists of a steel framework which can be attached to
-the climber’s boot by means of straps or thongs, and is provided on the
-under side with a number of sharp points, teeth or prongs. These should
-number either eight or ten, preferably the latter; four to the heel and
-the remainder to the sole. A badly-fitting climbing iron is worse than
-useless, inasmuch as it may prove a source of danger. The position of
-the teeth should be such that they approximately follow the contour
-of the sole and heel of the boot. Above all, it is essential that
-the front prongs should be placed well to either side of the toe and
-at least level with the tip of the boot, if not actually projecting.
-The two prongs at the back of the heel should be similarly placed.
-The prongs should be sharp and from 2 <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> to 2¹⁄₂ <abbr title="inch">in.</abbr> in length, and,
-to obviate the necessity for frequent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> re-sharpening and consequent
-excessive shortening of the teeth, the use of the climbing irons on
-rock should be avoided as much as possible. When the prongs are worn
-down to a length of 1¹⁄₂ inches it is advisable to discard the irons
-altogether.</p>
-
-<p>Nowadays, almost all climbers take crampons with them even on the
-simplest of ice excursions. Few, however, use them to the best
-advantage. When traversing across or climbing up a hard snow or ice
-slope without irons, the sole of the boot is always more or less at
-right angles to the slope. The edge nails on that side of the boot
-which is nearest the slope must do all the necessary gripping, and
-before the incline becomes so great that these slip, the axe must be
-resorted to and steps cut. Most people use climbing irons in a similar
-fashion, though, as a rule, the sole of the boot is kept nearer to
-the horizontal. In traversing an ice slope in this manner, it is true
-that the spikes of the crampons on the side nearest the slope will
-grip better than the boot nails alone would do and thus enable one to
-postpone the use of the axe. But in climbing vertically upwards only
-the two front prongs will bite into the ice, with the possible result
-that they may chip it away without securing reliable hold. To get the
-best use out of climbing irons, it is necessary to tread with the sole
-of the boot as far as is possible parallel to the slope. In this way
-all the points will be utilised. So used, sharp, long-toothed climbing
-irons will enable one to overcome extremely steep snow and ice slopes
-without the need of cutting steps. It is essential, however, that
-all members of the party be equally well equipped from the point of
-view of climbing irons and skill in using them. The inclusion of one
-who is deficient in either respect will make imperative the cutting
-of steps where it might well have been avoided. The climbing irons<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>
-which Max and I had in 1909 were most defective in design. The teeth
-were short, barely one inch in length, and blunt, and the toe and heel
-prongs, instead of being level with, or projecting from, the toe and
-heel of the boot, came underneath. We were forced, in consequence, to
-cut almost as many steps as if we had had no crampons at all. They did
-assist, however, in that they enabled us to stand more securely in our
-ice steps and obviated the necessity of carefully cleaning out and
-making smooth the floor of each step.</p>
-
-<p>At 12.30 a.m., on August 1, 1909, Max and I crept down from our
-sleeping bunks and stealthily, lest we should disturb the still
-slumbering occupants of the hut, proceeded to light the fire for
-breakfast and prepare for our departure. At 1.15 a.m. we were outside
-the hut putting on the rope and otherwise ready to move off. The night
-was calm. Up the snow slopes above the hut to the Mönchjoch we made
-our way, lighted by the fitful glare of the lantern through a black
-shadowland girdled by a belt of silver whence, under the brilliancy of
-the full moon, the grotesque séracs, like sheeted spirits, kept watch
-over the eternal solitudes. Our pace was good, and soon we topped the
-Mönchjoch and, stepping from out the shadow, crossed the head of the
-Ewigschneefeld. Rounding the corner of the south ridge of the Mönch,
-we strode through a glittering fairyland to the music of hobnailed
-boots crunching into the hard-frozen snow. On the Jungfrau Glacier,
-immediately below the Jungfraujoch, all superfluous baggage was dumped,
-to be picked up on the way down to the Concordia hut after the climb.
-We fastened on crampons, and were soon climbing up the snow slopes
-leading to the Rotthal Sattel, below the final bergschrund of which a
-brief halt was called for a scanty meal—a couple of biscuits, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span>
-should, as all climbers know, have been washed down by warm tea.
-We had, however, to dispense with the tea; the flask containing it
-eluded my grasp and, sliding down the slopes below, plunged into the
-black depths of a great crevasse. No loss, they say, is without its
-compensating gain; I had now, at any rate, less weight to carry, and
-snow would serve almost as well to assuage thirst. The Rotthal Sattel
-was swept by an icy west wind, so we raced full tilt up to the summit
-and arrived there on the stroke of five, just as the upper edge of
-the sun peeped over the horizon. For some moments we stood in wonder
-at the daily miracle of dawn as it skimmed from glacier to glacier,
-from mountain-top to mountain-top, and stirred the earth to blushing
-wakefulness. But all too soon we became aware of a cold wind seeking
-its way through our rather light clothing and noticed that our toes
-were beginning to lose sensation, our boots being badly fashioned with
-low toe-caps. Turning towards the north, we ran down over the Hochfirn
-at a breakneck pace, in the hope that hard exercise would chase away
-the chill. Along the Silbergrat and down past the Silberlücke the
-mad rush continued until, gasping for breath, we gained the shelter
-of the Silbermulde. Down the little Silberhorn fresh steps had to
-be cut, our old ones having vanished; and, as during this operation
-Max had felt the cold again, we ran across the Giessenmulde to the
-Schneehorn. Descending the rocks, now almost free from snow, we gained
-the Kühlauenen Glacier and crossed it in the direction of the huge
-bergschrund guarding the approach to the ice slope leading up to the
-Jungfraujoch. We sat down on the lower lip of the bergschrund to rest
-before tackling what promised to be the most arduous part of the
-day’s task, and also to satisfy hunger with a sparing meal of bread,
-chocolate and snow. Max<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> having relieved me of my knapsack which he
-packed into his own, we readjusted the climbing irons, taking up all
-the slack in the thongs by which they were attached to our feet, and
-set off to discover a way across the schrund. Not until we had explored
-well over to the left, underneath the great séracs that flanked the
-left of the slope up which we intended to cut our way, did the great,
-overhanging upper lip of the bergschrund show a hopeful weakness in the
-shape of a disfiguring cleft. Notwithstanding this breach, however, a
-stiff struggle ensued ere the difficulty was overcome. Driving both
-axes to the head into the good snow of the wall of the upper lip,
-I clung to them with both hands and, little by little, helped by a
-shoulder and a push from Max, pulled myself up with all the strength of
-my arms to the top, where I hewed out a large, secure step in which I
-was able to stand safely and steadily as my brother made his way up to
-me. We were now, however, in the direct line of fire from the séracs
-above; so, cutting steps over towards the right until out of harm’s
-reach, we turned upwards to face the formidable slope which was to
-prove the hardest part of the day’s work.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img13">
-<img src="images/img13.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Cutting steps over the upper lip of a bergschrund.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 76.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>At first we had only hard snow to deal with, and four or five
-well-directed blows with the blade of the axe were sufficient to
-produce a good, firm step. We mounted straight upwards, keeping to a
-safe middle line between the slopes on the left, which were liable
-to be swept by falling ice, and those on the right, furrowed and
-scratched by stone-falls from the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau.
-Many mountaineers, when cutting up ice or snow slopes, favour a zig-zag
-course, traversing diagonally upwards, first to one side and then to
-the other. Such tactics have their disadvantages. The making of such
-a stairway, for instance, involves the cutting of a greater number of
-steps, and, in addition, these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> steps must, in the interests of safety,
-be large enough to accommodate the whole foot; while those required if
-a vertical route is followed need afford room for only half the foot,
-that is, from the toe to the instep. Again, on a zig-zag course, should
-any member of the party slip, there is much less chance of arresting
-his fall, as the climbers are seldom, if ever, directly below each
-other. In the present case, however, we had no choice; any route save
-that leading straight upwards would have brought us into danger from
-ice on the left or from stones on the right. Already, though only about
-fifty feet above the bergschrund, the slope was so steep that it was
-necessary always to cut three to four steps ahead of that upon which
-one stood. But the hard, firm snow was ideal carving material. Always
-using the blade, two good hard blows marked out the base, and a further
-two, or at the most three, sufficed to break away the roof and leave a
-good solid step.</p>
-
-<p>About one hundred and fifty feet above the schrund, conditions began
-to change. The snow gradually thinned out, and the pick of the axe
-had to be employed in finishing off the hard ice floor of each step.
-Eventually the snow disappeared, exposing smooth, bare ice, translucent
-and colourless when seen from close at hand, but faint blue-green
-as the glance travelled up the grim slope above. It was the real
-thing—an ice slope—a trial of strength to gladden heart and eye.
-The pick of the axe now came again into play. To economise labour
-and time, I cut large steps for the right foot only. These were deep
-enough to accommodate the four front spikes of the climbing iron, and
-thus afforded good support for the part of the foot below the ball of
-the big toe. By standing on the right foot alone, with the left knee
-in the small notches that served as steps for the left foot, I could
-work without tiring and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> in a well-balanced position. The ice was of
-the hardest. As many as thirty to forty blows went to the making of
-each large step, but a dozen served for the small, rough indentations
-into which the two front spikes of the left iron could bite as we
-climbed from one right foot step to the next above. Max kept close
-behind me; of shorter stature than I, he was kept busy hewing out here
-and there additional steps between my rather far apart ones. An hour
-went by. Away down at the bottom of the “blue precipitate stair” lay
-the bergschrund, but the upper end of the ice slope seemed to be as
-far off as ever. Then the ice steepened until it was so sheer that
-it was only just possible to retain one’s balance without having to
-make handholds. The work was really severe, and great care was needed
-in cutting; a single ill-aimed blow of the axe might easily have
-destroyed one’s equilibrium. Stones, freed from the grip of the frost
-by the warm rays of the sun, hurtled down past us in little avalanches
-from the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau, or skimmed giddily by, one
-by one, within half a rope’s length of us, down the glassy surface
-of the wall. Max, who had kept count of the steps since leaving the
-bergschrund, helped to mark our progress by announcing their number
-as each tenth one was finished. The three-hundred-and-twentieth step
-brought us almost level with the snow slopes of the upper surface of
-the hanging glacier and its séracs, and, turning towards our left, we
-began to traverse over towards it. A small bergschrund was the only
-barrier in the way. It proved a difficult little customer, and as a
-slip on the part of either was not to be risked, every precaution known
-to us was employed to cross it in safety. After making a huge step as
-near the upper lip as was practicable, I carved out a knob in the ice.
-This done, Max passed the rope behind the knob and thus belayed me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>
-securely while I clambered over the bergschrund on to the hard snows of
-the hanging glacier. There I cut two more large steps and, driving my
-axe in to the head, belayed Max’s rope over it while he made his way
-towards me. Then Max, in his turn, drove his axe in as far as the head
-and belayed me as, still cutting steps, I moved over to the less steep
-slopes on the left. As soon as the rope was paid out Max followed while
-belayed by me in the same manner. After cutting a further hundred steps
-or so, the angle of the slope became so much gentler that the climbing
-irons alone could be relied upon to bite firmly into the snow.</p>
-
-<p>Difficulties were over. Thenceforward a mere walk up easy snow slopes
-led to the gap that lies to the right of the well-known little snow
-peak in the Jungfraujoch (11,398 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), and at 10 a.m. we gained the
-ridge at a point about one hundred and fifty feet higher than the true
-pass. Below lay a black speck in the gleaming snow of the Jungfrau
-Glacier. It was the little pile of belongings which we had dumped there
-in the early morning, and in that dump were cooking apparatus, tea,
-sugar, biscuits—everything to gladden the heart of the mountaineer.
-For the doubtlessly magnificent view from the Jungfraujoch we had no
-eyes. Thirst and hunger hunted us forth. A short glissade down a snow
-slope, a little manœuvring that brought us safely across a diminutive
-bergschrund, and we were floundering knee-deep through soft, sodden
-snow to our provision depôt. There we made our first halt worthy of the
-name since leaving the Bergli hut nine hours previously and, at peace
-with ourselves and the world in general, enjoyed a well-earned rest
-while the cooking apparatus produced the means of ministering to our
-more material requirements.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img14">
-<img src="images/img14.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Evening storm.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img15">
-<img src="images/img15.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Morning calm.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 80.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Soon after 11 a.m. we were heading across the glacier to join the
-broad trail leading down from the Jungfrau towards the Concordia hut.
-The last lap in the journey proved to be the usual leaden finish to
-a golden day. The rucksacks containing our dumped belongings were
-unpleasantly heavy; the sun, so longed for in the chill, early hours of
-the morning, was now a source of discomfort, and the soft, moist snow
-under foot reflected a fierce glare. On nearing the Concordia Platz,
-that vast plain of ice, the meeting-place of four great glaciers of the
-Oberland, we took off the rope, having left the last of the concealed
-crevasses well behind. At 1.15 p.m., after boggling through innumerable
-puddles of icy water, we arrived on the rocky promontory on which stand
-the hôtel and the two Concordia huts. In all, we had been twelve hours
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i>.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br />
-<span class="vsmall">ON SKIS IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">With</span> the coming of the Christmas vacation of 1908, Max and I, in
-accordance with our well-established custom, returned to Grindelwald.
-Having in the preceding summer become more intimately acquainted with
-the towering, snow-bound heights at whose feet nestles the winter sport
-resort <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">par excellence</i> of the Oberland, short ski-ing expeditions
-to the Faulhorn, Männlichen and the other lesser satellites of the
-great Oberland giants no longer satisfied us. We were now eager to
-penetrate into the winter fastnesses of the glacier regions.</p>
-
-<p>Prior to the advent of skis in Switzerland, winter ascents of
-first-class peaks were, as a rule, formidable undertakings. Winter
-conditions in the mountains are quite different from those met with in
-the summer. Deep snow, often soft and powdery and requiring extremely
-careful treatment to avoid the danger of starting avalanches, lies
-right down into the valleys. Thus the ascent to the mountain club-hut,
-usually a simple matter in summer, is often in the cold season a long
-and arduous expedition. Frequently it is impossible to follow the usual
-route, and deviations involving hours of fatiguing stamping in snow,
-into which one sinks to the knee, or even deeper, at each step, may be
-necessary to steer clear of dangerous slopes and gullies. Simple rocks,
-when laden with their wintry cloak of snow, become difficult and demand
-great care in climbing. The lower reaches of glaciers, snow-free<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> or
-“dry” in summer, are in winter clad in a deep, white pall that obscures
-crevasses with a covering deceptive and insecure for the human tread.
-Higher up, above the hut, differences are not so obvious, though they
-are far from non-existent. Cold may be severe. Changes in the weather
-seem to occur more suddenly and with less warning. A summer storm in
-the high Alps can be serious enough; but it is nothing to the ruthless,
-inhuman and deadly force of the elements let loose in winter. The
-snow, to all appearances perhaps the same, is yet different. One must
-constantly be on one’s guard against avalanches and snow-shields; the
-snow bridges across crevasses are deceiving in their massiveness. In
-summer, the experienced mountaineer can readily detect the presence
-of a chasm in a snow-covered glacier; but in winter he may find his
-judgment sadly at fault. These changed conditions have naturally
-undergone no alteration with the coming of skis; but skis enable one to
-mount long snow slopes and cross wide expanses without sinking deeply
-in, and thus, by relieving one of the labours of snow stamping, they
-reduce the fatigue consequent upon walking in snow. Also, owing to the
-fact that one’s weight is distributed over a much larger area, they
-diminish the danger of falling into crevasses. And again, they enable
-one to descend snow slopes at a far greater speed and with much less
-expenditure of energy than is possible without them.</p>
-
-<p>Christmas festivities and their usual after-effects failed to take
-the edge off our mountaineering keenness, and after breakfast on the
-26th, Max and I strapped on our skis in front of the Eiger Hotel and
-shouldered our knapsacks containing provisions, a rope and an axe each.
-<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Odo Tauern, an experienced mountaineer and first-rate ski-er,
-joined us. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> was to accompany us to the Bergli hut where two friends
-were due to meet him on the 28th. From Grindelwald we ski-ed down into
-the valley, and crossed the Lütschinen stream by the bridge of the
-railway connecting Grindelwald with the Little Scheidegg. In winter,
-of course, this railway is not open. As a preliminary to facing the
-long pull up before us, we fastened on seal-skins under our skis.
-These are long strips of seal-skin which one fixes to the skis in such
-a manner that the lie of the hairs is such as to prevent one’s skis
-from slipping backwards when going uphill. We followed the railway
-track, diverging only in one place where it crosses the middle of a
-long, steep slope. Here the snow had drifted so that a smooth slope was
-left, and no sign of the railway was visible. The snow on the slope
-was bad, and thinking it highly probable that the making of ski-tracks
-over it would result in the formation of an avalanche, we preferred to
-work down underneath the slope and so avoid danger. Before arriving at
-the Little Scheidegg, we turned up to the left towards the Eiger and,
-mounting steeply, gained the Eiger Glacier station where the tunnel
-of the Jungfrau railway begins. Active tunnelling operations on the
-railway were then in full progress, and it was our intention to travel
-by one of the workmen’s trains to the Eismeer Glacier station, in those
-days the most advanced station on the track. As luck would have it, we
-just missed the last train and had to spend the night at the office
-of the engineer-in-chief, Herr Liechti, who received us with every
-possible kindness.</p>
-
-<p>At five o’clock next morning, with skis and other paraphernalia, we
-stepped out into the keen, cold air and trundled down to the entrance
-of the tunnel. Packed like the proverbial sardines into the railway
-carriage with a crowd of marvellously cheerful, Italian tunnelling
-workmen, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> even at this miserable hour were able to sing their
-songs with zest, time passed rapidly enough until the Eismeer station
-was reached. Here we were led down a tunnel which broke through the
-rock at a point some thirty feet above the snow of the glacier, on
-to which we and our belongings were lowered on ropes. Strapping on
-our skis, we began to seek a way through the intricate icefall, over
-towards the Bergli hut. The ordinary summer route, which Max and I
-knew well enough, could not be used; it was far too much endangered by
-avalanches. The only alternative was to approach the lower Mönchjoch
-and descend to the hut. This involved finding a passage right up
-through the icefall, but by keeping close to the wonderful precipices
-of the Eiger, so steep that they were almost free from snow, a feasible
-way was found. In spite of our skis, it was hard work, so deep and
-soft was the snow. As the presence of crevasses in winter is often
-so extremely difficult of detection, and a fall into one cannot be
-arrested so quickly when on skis as without them, we were roped at
-a distance of seventy feet from man to man. In addition, Maxwell,
-who brought up the rear, carried a spare hundred-foot rope for use
-in case of emergency. Zig-zagging in and out between great pinnacles
-of ice, probing with the axe at each step for concealed crevasses,
-we had almost passed through the icefall and were not far below the
-lower Mönchjoch, when an opportunity of working over to the left,
-towards the snow slopes above the rocks whereon the Bergli hut stands,
-revealed itself. It was obvious that caution would be necessary in
-effecting the crossing, not on account of avalanches or the danger of
-treading loose a snow-shield, for the ground was hardly steep enough
-for that, but because the new route, instead of leading us at right
-angles across crevasses, led in the general direction in which the
-crevasses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> lay; that is, <em>along</em> instead of <em>across</em> them.
-Using the axe to discover the whereabouts of crevasses was by no means
-always effective; in places the snow was so soft and deep that the
-axe could be plunged in right to the head without meeting with the
-resistance that betokened the presence of firm, safe snow, or that
-lack of resistance indicating the void that meant danger. On this part
-of the journey, therefore, we had to rely to a great extent upon mere
-external appearances. We had all but gained the slopes just below the
-Mönchjoch and above the Bergli hut, when Tauern suddenly broke clean
-through a snow bridge. The violent shock of his weight coming on the
-rope dragged me backwards on my skis for a yard or two and my brother
-forward; thus Tauern had completely disappeared before we could arrest
-his fall. Try as we would, we were unable to pull him up. So Max
-crossed the crevasse at another point, and together, heaving with all
-our might and main, we managed to pull our companion over to one side
-of the chasm, and even raise him until his head was almost level with
-the edge of the hole through which he had broken. Still hanging in the
-crevasse, he unfastened and threw his skis up to us, and also gave us
-the much-needed information as to the direction in which the walls
-of his prison ran. It was then an easy matter for me to approach the
-brink of the crevasse and push the shaft of an axe in underneath the
-rope by which Max held Tauern suspended, and thus prevent its cutting
-more deeply into the snow. After I had cleared away some of the snow,
-leaving a channel, Tauern, aided by the united pull of my brother and
-I, was able at last to set foot above ground again.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img16">
-<img src="images/img16.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Eismeer icefall.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The Bergli hut stands on the rock ridge to the left centre.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img17">
-<img src="images/img17.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Sounding a snowbridge.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 86.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>This is the first and last time that I have seen a man fall into a
-crevasse in winter. It is not an experience to be repeated lightly; it
-had been by no means an easy task for two of us to get our comrade
-out, and had he been unequal to assisting us and not the capable and
-ready-witted mountaineer that he is, the task might well have been
-an insuperable one. Mountaineers to-day seem somewhat inclined to
-under-rate the dangers of falling into a crevasse. In summer, except
-perhaps immediately after heavy falls of fresh snow, it should be
-possible for a party to avoid this danger altogether. But in winter,
-the greatest care and experience, combined with keenness of vision, are
-necessary to steer clear of making the acquaintance of the interior of
-a crevasse—an acquaintance which may, if one is fortunate, be merely
-unpleasant, but is likely to result in very grave danger indeed.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p>
-
-<p>After Tauern had shaken his clothes as free from snow as possible
-and put on his skis, we set off once more. Meeting with no further
-adventure, we reached the slopes above the hut. Here we left our skis,
-planting them upright in the snow, and then plunged down thigh-deep
-to the hut. It was just on nightfall. Being mid-winter, it was not
-surprising that the thermometer inside the hut registered 42° F. of
-frost. But there was a compensating abundance of wood and blankets.
-Like most of the Swiss Alpine Club huts, the Bergli is soundly built
-with a view, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">inter alia</i>, to conservation of heat in its
-interior; and it was not long after lighting the fire, upon which
-we placed pans full of snow to procure water for cooking purposes,
-that a pleasant, comforting warmth was suffused throughout the little
-building. In those days Max and I rather fancied ourselves as cooks.
-But Tauern, whose mountain experience was greater than ours, had
-stocked his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> knapsack with such a supply of well-chosen dainties,
-forming a marked contrast to our own stodgy and unromantic though
-filling and nourishing food, that there was nothing for it but to come
-off our pedestals and act as mere assistants. That evening we enjoyed
-a wonderful dinner of many courses. As it was the first really square
-meal we had indulged in since leaving Grindelwald, our appetites came
-well up to scratch. At peace with ourselves and the world, we presently
-turned in to sleep. Being alone in the hut, the supply of blankets
-was in excess of our needs; each man slept on three spread on the
-straw of the bunks and covered himself with half a dozen more. With
-the exception of boots and coats, we slept in our out-door clothes.
-The warmth inside the hut lasted until well past midnight; but long
-before daybreak, in spite of our many coverings, the cold disturbed our
-slumbers, and at five o’clock we were glad to throw back the blankets,
-all frosted where the moisture from our breath had condensed and frozen
-upon them, and get up and light the fire. After breakfast we thawed
-our boots against the stove, and put them and puttees on. Still inside
-the hut, we roped and shortly after sunrise set off towards the lower
-Mönchjoch.</p>
-
-<p>It was laborious work forcing our way up towards the skis, for the
-snow was as soft as ever. The day was gloriously fine; the sky was
-cloudless; strange, cold, yellowish-green near the horizon, but
-deepening to a pale, hard blue overhead. Most of the peaks about us
-were already bathed in the warm light of the sun, but we ourselves were
-still in the shade. Presently we reached the spot where we had left
-our skis. Snow ploughing was at an end; with these useful things on
-our feet we no longer sank deeply into the snow and, forging a zig-zag
-track, soon arrived at the lower Mönchjoch and into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> the sunshine—a
-pleasant relief after the cold shadow. The bergschrund below the lower
-Mönchjoch was choked with masses of snow, and we ski-ed down over it
-and across a short slope on to the plateau of the Ewigschneefeld,
-stirring up merry clouds of snow dust in our wake. We had planned to
-cross the upper Mönchjoch and climb the Jungfrau. But from the lower
-Mönchjoch, the presence of fish-shaped clouds behind the Jungfrau and
-a fresh and gusty west wind gave warning of a possible change in the
-weather. However, we shuffled over the Ewigschneefeld, deciding to
-wait until arriving at the upper Mönchjoch before coming to a definite
-decision as to further movements. But no improvement in the weather
-outlook took place; on the contrary, things had taken a distinct turn
-for the worse, and the wind was occasionally strong enough to prove
-troublesome by whirling up streamers of snow dust in our faces. To
-try the Jungfrau under these conditions would have been unwise; so we
-decided to content ourselves with climbing the Mönch. From the upper
-Mönchjoch, the most convenient line of ascent to the summit lies over
-the south-east ridge. Using skis as far as possible, we mounted until
-we reached a point on the ridge where the wind had swept the rocks free
-from snow. These were perfectly easy; so gentle was the slope that it
-was not even necessary to use one’s hands. Beyond was a snow ridge,
-the steeper portion of which was quite simple, though the final part
-needed some care in negotiating. It was covered by an immense snow
-cornice, overhanging on the right, and, in order to avoid walking on it
-and incurring the risk of its breaking away, we had to keep well down
-to the left where the presence of ice occasionally necessitated the
-cutting of steps. Shortly after half-past ten we gained the spacious,
-snow-capped summit of the Mönch. A little way<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> down on the north side,
-we found complete shelter from the wind which had now veered round and
-was blowing from the south. We sat for a whole hour, feeling none too
-warm perhaps, but revelling in the wonderful view spread out at our
-feet. A dense, moving sea of cloud, which rose to an altitude of seven
-or eight thousand feet, blotted out the plains; and here and there
-midst the softly-foaming billows, snow-capped summits, like little
-islands, thrust their gleaming heads.</p>
-
-<p>On turning to make our way down again, we found that the wind had
-risen and was whipping up into our faces great streamers of snow from
-summit and from ridge. The stinging sensation of the wind-driven snow
-spicules as they struck the unprotected skin was painful if also
-exhilarating, and, retracing our steps as fast as we could, we eagerly
-sought the comparative shelter of the upper Mönchjoch. The descent was
-without incident, and, after regaining our skis, we sped back with
-all haste over the lower Mönchjoch towards the Bergli hut. Above the
-hut we espied two strange pairs of skis planted upright in the snow.
-No tracks, however, were visible; the wind-blown snow had levelled
-them out. We arrived at the hut at 1.30 p.m., an hour and a half
-after leaving the summit of the Mönch; and stepping into the pleasant
-shelter, were greeted by Tauern’s friends who had come to keep their
-tryst with him.</p>
-
-<p>In view of the almost certain approach of bad weather, Max and I now
-made the mistake of not continuing our descent to the Eismeer. The
-others had ample provisions to tide them over an enforced stay in the
-hut, but our own stores were sufficient for only one, or at the most
-two, more meals. Loth to leave the pleasant companionship of the others
-and the warm, hospitable shelter of the hut, we decided to remain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> for
-the night and go down to the Eismeer on the following morning.</p>
-
-<p>During the night snow fell heavily. Next day, after a belated
-breakfast, Max and I, in spite of the fresh snow and the fact that
-the weather, though quiet, was still uncertain, decided to set out.
-Everything was obscured in mist. Tauern, more aware of the danger of
-our plans than we, did his utmost to dissuade us. The thought, however,
-that our remaining in the hut would spoil his and his companions’
-climbing programme, through unexpected depletion of their supplies,
-settled the matter. Max and I put on the rope and, with the others’
-wishes for good luck, set off. The struggle up through the soft, deep
-snow to our skis, left sticking some two hundred feet above the hut,
-was most laborious. Less troublesome was the long traverse towards the
-head of the icefall, close under the cliffs of the Eiger. I doubt,
-however, if either of us realised the great danger we were incurring
-here. Owing to the recent snow fall, it was doubly difficult to
-detect the presence of crevasses, and, though we made use of every
-precaution then known to us, I have no doubt that it was sheer good
-luck that saw us across more than one snow bridge in safety. Had either
-broken well through into a crevasse, it is most unlikely that the
-other, unaided, could have pulled him out. But fortune was with us.
-Notwithstanding dense mists, wind, and lashing snow dust, we kept in
-the right direction, and when hard under the cliffs of the Eiger, of
-the proximity of which the reflected sound of a shout gave adequate
-indication, we turned down through the icefall. Struggling along
-through the deep snow had resulted in our underclothing getting wet,
-and we began to feel the cold. To add to our discomfort, the descent
-of particularly steep pitches necessitated the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> removal of our skis,
-and the continual taking off and refastening of these became a trying
-task for the fingers. However, things went passably well despite minor
-troubles, and we had almost reached the safe ground below the icefall
-when I felt a tremendous wind sweep down upon me from <em>above</em>.
-Next moment, almost before I had become aware of what was happening, I
-was choking for breath in the dense snow dust of an avalanche falling
-down upon us from the cliffs of the Eiger. Max was about a hundred
-feet behind me at the full length of the rope and, as luck would have
-it, clear of the falling stream of dust. He could see me disappear as
-the thick snow cloud enveloped me. The snow fell until I was buried to
-above my head, and, just as I thought I would be stifled, the avalanche
-mercifully ceased. By keeping my hands above me and moving them as if
-I were swimming, I had left a sort of funnel through which I could get
-some air. Fortunately the snow dust had not packed firmly, and after
-herculean efforts I succeeded in twisting my feet loose from my buried
-skis and, helped by Max’s pull on the rope, was able to free myself
-from the unpleasant situation. As my skis were absolutely indispensable
-for the completion of the descent, we had to set about recovering them;
-but it was not until we had grovelled for nearly an hour in the floury
-snow that they were found.</p>
-
-<p>Five minutes later we stood below the entrance of the railway tunnel.
-This, it will be remembered, was separated from the snow upon which we
-now stood by a rocky wall some thirty feet high and unclimbable in its
-lower part. We shouted ourselves hoarse in an endeavour to attract the
-attention of workmen who might be in the tunnel, but all to no purpose.
-In the end we had to fall back upon self-help. Taking off the rope,
-we made a noose and then set<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> to work to try and lasso a large iron
-pin which had been driven into the rock a few feet below the entrance
-of the tunnel. Cast after cast failed, each flung wide by the gusts
-of an erratic wind. A quarter of an hour at this game showed us that
-we had over-estimated our prowess with the lasso; but at last a throw
-succeeded. A twitch or two of the rope settled the noose firmly on the
-pin, and I then proceeded to try and haul myself up hand over hand; but
-the struggle in the avalanche had sapped my strength to such an extent
-that I failed miserably. Then Max tried, and after a desperate battle
-grasped the pin. As soon as he was up he hauled in the knapsacks, axes
-and skis. He next fastened one end of the rope to the pin while I tied
-the other about my waist. Then, with Max hauling with all his might,
-I struggled up. After a rest, we gathered together our belongings and
-walked up the tunnel towards the station. Even now, troubles were not
-at an end. The entrance to the station was barred by an iron grating.
-Outside was a bell with a polite invitation to ring. We accepted with
-all our hearts. But for nearly half an hour we stood there, shivering
-in the fierce, cold draught that swept up from the glacier world
-without. At last, just when we were beginning to despair of attracting
-anyone’s attention, a tunnelling foreman came and opened the gate.
-Noticing our plight at once, he led us to the engine house and tucked
-us in between two great compressed air cylinders belonging to the
-Ingersoll rock-drilling outfit. There we slept, warm and comfortable,
-until it was time to descend by one of the workmen’s trains. As night
-had fallen ere we arrived at the Eiger Glacier station, it was too late
-to continue our way to Grindelwald, but the engineer-in-chief once
-again proffered hospitality.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p>
-
-<p>Next morning Max, who had suffered frost-bite in one heel, had
-difficulty in getting on his boots; but once this painful task
-was accomplished and our skis were strapped on, all went well.
-Three-quarters of an hour later we were mounting the slopes beyond the
-Lütschinen stream towards Grindelwald, the Eiger Hôtel and comfort.</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> In connection with the wearing of the rope on glaciers,
-attention should be drawn to the fact that the so-called “middleman
-noose,” a knot which is warmly advocated in many quarters, must never
-be used. It is a slip-knot.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br />
-<span class="vsmall">ON SKIS IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND (<i>continued</i>)</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">In</span> later years we visited many other parts of the Alps on skis; but
-it was not until the Easter of 1914 that we returned to the great
-glaciers of the Oberland. On April 9, I boarded the continental
-train at Charing Cross and, on the following day, joined my brother
-in Zürich, where he was completing his studies. My arrival being
-totally unexpected, I was indeed fortunate in finding him free from
-climbing plans and obligations. Next evening at eight o’clock we were
-in Wengen. After dinner, and having written a few letters informing
-relatives and friends that we were off for a week’s ski-ing mid the
-peaks of the Bernese Oberland, we put on skis and, at 10 p.m., left
-the Schönegg Hôtel. The moon shone brightly, and we strode up the
-buried railway track through a land of silver dominated by the great
-ghostly shapes of that wonderful Alpine trinity, the Eiger, Mönch and
-Jungfrau. All shuttered up and deserted were the railway station and
-collection of hôtels at the Little Scheidegg—a forlorn colony of the
-dead. In the eerie magic of an hour past midnight, we should not have
-been astonished had a ghostly throng of perspiring trippers appeared
-from nowhere and begun that fight for seats of vantage on the train,
-which we had more than once witnessed during the bright sunny days of
-a summer season. Braving the possible presence of the supernatural,
-however, we paused here to indulge in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> infinitely prosaic—a meal
-of dry bread and raw bacon fat, our favourite winter tit-bit!</p>
-
-<p>Soon we were off again up the railway track. The snow throughout was
-safe and in perfect condition, and at 3 a.m. we reached the Eiger
-Glacier station. We saw the engineer on duty, who most kindly undertook
-to make the necessary arrangements for a special train to be at our
-disposal after breakfast. Unwilling to disturb others, we contented
-ourselves with a table each for bed and slept soundly until after
-sunrise. The train left just after eight. During the six years that
-had elapsed since our last visit, considerable progress had been made,
-and the tunnel completed up to the Jungfraujoch. The railway track,
-however, was not yet finished, and the walk from the train to the Joch
-was no easy matter, as the final section of the tunnel was still in the
-rough stage. Thanks to the kind offers of one of the tunnelling foremen
-who remembered us from the winter of 1908, we were provided with a warm
-meal at a trifling cost.</p>
-
-<p>With the good wishes of all the staff, we stepped out of the tunnel at
-noon on the 12th and, descending carefully over a steep snow slope,
-crossed a small snow-choked bergschrund on to the Jungfrau Glacier.
-Here we put on skis and, leaving the heavy knapsacks to be picked up on
-the return journey, headed for the Mönchjoch. We wore the rope, though,
-at this time of the year and with the snow in its present condition,
-there was no difficulty in detecting the presence of crevasses or
-in sounding with the axe and accurately estimating the strength of
-snow bridges. The weather was sunny and windless, and, though the
-temperature in the shade was far below freezing, we gradually divested
-ourselves of coats and shirts and arrived in the lower Mönchjoch
-stripped to the waist, but fresh and aglow from the exertion. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>
-we were accosted by the gentlest of breezes; sufficient, nevertheless,
-to persuade us to resume some of our discarded coverings. The skis,
-not needed for the time being, were left behind as we turned up the
-south-east ridge of the Mönch. The climb up the ridge was as easy as
-I have ever known it, so good were the conditions. Along the final,
-almost level section, we found the remains of old steps which we at
-first followed. Presently, however, we forsook them. According to
-our views, they went dangerously close to, and were sometimes even
-on, the overhanging portion of the immense cornice which adorns the
-crest of this part of the ridge. We preferred to keep well down on the
-steep slope to the left, though such a procedure did involve a little
-step-cutting. At 3 p.m. we paid our third visit to the summit of the
-Mönch. Filmy mists of the kind that the mountaineer usually associates
-with fair, settled weather floated up from the north and enveloped us
-almost immediately. Despite a fresh breeze from the south-west, they
-clung tenaciously about us, completely obscuring the view. For nearly
-an hour we waited for things to clear; but in vain. Too chilled to
-prolong our stay, we sought warmth in action and turned back towards
-the Mönchjoch. As we passed along the highest section of the ridge, I
-re-cut one or two of the steps. Suddenly I was startled by a crashing
-noise, followed by a thunderous roar, as almost the whole of the
-great cornice broke away for a distance of about a hundred yards in
-front and fifty yards behind us and fell down in a mighty avalanche
-towards the Eismeer. Where a moment previously the view to the left
-had been shut off by a steep snow wall, I now had an uninterrupted
-survey down the precipice, from the brink of which I was separated by
-a distance of only an inch or two. At first we were a little startled
-by the suddenness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> of the happening, but later regarded it as merely
-another demonstration of the fact that, if mountaineering is to be a
-safe pursuit, knowledge and the exercise of care are indispensable.
-Although much of the ridge along which we now had to pass was still
-heavily corniced, we had faith in the safety of the tracks we had left
-on ascending and, following these, made our way down to our skis.
-Strapping them on and coiling up the rope, we skimmed in a sheer
-riot of exhilaration down towards the Jungfraujoch, keeping as much
-as possible to our previous tracks. It being our intention to make
-the Concordia hut our home for the next few days, we recovered our
-knapsacks and, at 5 p.m., set off down the Jungfrau Glacier on the last
-lap of the day’s journey.</p>
-
-<p>The run down the glacier was somewhat spoilt by the fact that the
-weight of our knapsacks rendered crevasse-dodging rather difficult
-unless the pace of travel was kept down by frequent braking. Far
-from easy to negotiate, too, were the occasional patches of snow,
-hard-crusted by the action of the fierce winds that from time to time
-sweep up this glacier in winter. It was, however, a wonderful evening.
-There was no cause for haste, so we halted frequently to ease our
-shoulders of the weight of the knapsacks and to point out to each other
-old friends amongst the surrounding peaks. We had last crossed the
-Concordia Platz in the summer of 1909. Then we had found it a vast,
-almost level expanse of glacier covered with an abominable slush of
-snow and water. But now it was in the grip of winter. We ambled and
-slid over a dry, powdery snow surface, the soft, fresh breezes of dusk
-playing about us and cooling the flush that exercise had called to our
-faces. A little, fairly steep slope lay between the edge of the glacier
-and the rocks on which the Concordia hut stands. I ski-ed down this
-slope and brought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> up with a Christiania swing; but not in time to
-prevent twisting my left ankle against a stone—a painful experience,
-though no bones were broken, and, beyond the throbbing pain, I seemed
-to suffer no inconvenience. We climbed up the almost snow-free rocks
-and, at 7.30 p.m., arrived in the hut. By this time there remained
-to us but faded memories of our last meal, and it was not until ten
-o’clock that our ravenous appetites were satisfied.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img18">
-<img src="images/img18.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Cornices on the Punta Margherita.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img19">
-<img src="images/img19.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>A cornice on the Rôchefort ridge.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 98.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Next morning, after a night of wonderful sleep, we awoke at 9.30. The
-weather was doubtful, with cloudy skies and a gusty wind varying in
-quarter from west to south. Shortly before midday, after alternating
-between hopes and fears as to the prospects of being able to do
-something by way of an excursion, we left the hut, carrying only the
-rope and a little chocolate, it being our humble intention to potter
-about on the Concordia Platz. However, after putting on the skis,
-which had been left down on the glacier, we decided that, though the
-clouds and the wind gusts were still as evident as ever, the weather
-might hold out sufficiently long to enable us to climb the Ebnefluh. We
-crossed the Concordia Platz and, mounting up the main Aletsch Glacier,
-eventually turned up the Ebnefluh Glacier and headed almost straight
-for the summit of our peak. We were able to keep the skis on until
-within a few hundred feet of the top. Had the snow been powdery and
-suitable for ski-ing instead of hard and frozen, we might have ski-ed
-right on to the summit. At 6 p.m. we had gained the highest point.
-The most striking feature of the view from the summit of the Ebnefluh
-(13,005 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) is the wonderful outlook it affords over the tremendous
-precipices falling away to the Rotthal Valley, one of the wildest and
-most secluded and, from the climber’s point of view, most interesting
-valleys in the Alps.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p>
-
-<p>We had put on the rope on leaving the skis, but even on foot, by
-exercising ordinary, reasonable caution, there was no danger of falling
-into a crevasse. With the passage from early to late winter, glacier
-conditions suffer enormous change. I have previously pointed out how
-the winter snows form most unreliable bridges over crevasses and often
-mask them so effectively that the vision of even the most experienced
-mountaineer is sometimes unable to detect them. But later on, towards
-the close of the winter season, usually in March and almost always in
-April, the keen mountaineer will never be at fault in this respect.
-I am frequently at a loss to explain to a less experienced companion
-how this can be. Perhaps long experience in the mountains tends to
-develop in one an extra and particular sense which warns one of the
-proximity of hidden crevasses; but to those who wish a more scientific
-explanation, I would draw attention to the following facts. Towards
-the end of winter the snow is more consolidated, that is, packed more
-closely by reason of its own weight and the effect of wind. Where snow
-is unsupported from below, that is, where it lies over a crevasse, a
-slight, sometimes almost imperceptible hollow will be formed on its
-surface. These hollows, slight though they be, betray themselves to
-the experienced eye by the difference in the shade of the light that
-they reflect and thus give warning of the existence of a crevasse.
-In the earlier part of the winter, the snow, as a rule, has not had
-time to “pack” sufficiently to form such hollows, and the detection of
-chasms is therefore immeasurably more difficult. A heated controversy
-is now raging amongst ski-ing experts as to whether the rope should
-be worn when ski-ing on glaciers in winter. It is by no means easy
-for a party roped together to keep the rope taut while ski-ing down
-a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> glacier, without inflicting bad jerks and causing each other to
-fall. For this reason the rope is considered by many ski-ers to be an
-unmitigated nuisance. Hence the rise of the two contesting parties. To
-me, the question does not seem to admit of an answering unqualified
-“Yes” or “No.” Owing to the difficulty of sighting crevasses during the
-beginning and middle of winter, the wearing of the rope at these times
-should certainly be urged, even on the simplest of glaciers. But the
-rope must be worn properly, kept taut from man to man; and as one’s
-rate of travel is far greater on skis than without, and the difficulty
-of holding a man who has fallen into a crevasse is proportionally
-greater, there should be not less than a hundred feet of rope between
-each member of the party. Later on in the season, an experienced party
-may unhesitatingly dispense with the rope on glacier expeditions,
-provided that they are not only adept ski-ers with full command of
-their skis, but really skilled mountaineers, with eyes open, ever on
-their guard against the hidden dangers of the mountains.</p>
-
-<p>Owing to the lateness of the hour, our halt on the top of the Ebnefluh
-was a brief one. Within five minutes of leaving the summit we were back
-at our skis, rubbing them fondly with grease in anticipation of a swift
-run home. With veils of snow dust flying out behind us, we whizzed down
-on to the Aletsch Glacier and, half sliding, half shuffling, worked
-across the Concordia Platz, arriving in the hut just after nightfall.</p>
-
-<p>On the 14th we were up at the fairly reasonable hour of six, but though
-the weather was calm and fine we did not launch out on any ambitious
-programme. My ankle, though no longer very painful, was so swollen that
-I had great difficulty in getting on my boot. Thinking, however, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>
-a little exercise would do no harm, we ski-ed up to the Grünhornlücke
-and climbed a neighbouring peak called the Weissnollen (11,841 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>).
-What with my ankle and the deep powdery snow, it took us three hours to
-plough our way up to the former. The return from the Grünhornlücke to
-the hut, however, was accomplished in barely fifteen minutes.</p>
-
-<p>Early next morning, dense mists surrounded the hut, and snow was
-falling fast. At 9 a.m. we looked out, to find the snow had ceased
-and the mists were being blown away by a fierce north-easter. But we
-dallied until the weather became more certain, and at a quarter to
-eleven set off for the Fiescherhorn. To climb the Fiescherhorn, it was
-necessary to gain the upper level of the Ewigschneefeld above its great
-icefall. By keeping to the left bank of the latter, we succeeded in
-finding a passage without having to remove our skis; but by the time
-the glacier above had been gained, the weather had taken a turn for the
-worse, and in the end we had to content ourselves with climbing the
-Walcherhorn (12,155 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). Skis were kept on right up to the summit.
-No view rewarded our labours. Mists clung about us, and a cold wind
-hastened our retreat. Through the clouds, keeping to our former tracks,
-we ran down to the head of the icefall. Then came five wonderfully
-exciting minutes as, in and out of crevasses and séracs, we twisted and
-turned and sped, without a halt, out on to the unbroken slopes below
-the icefall and down to the Concordia Platz, to reach home in time for
-four o’clock tea.</p>
-
-<p>We voted the next day to be one of rest. The strain of manœuvring
-through the icefall of the Ewigschneefeld had caused my ankle to swell
-up again, and Max was suffering from a cough which made him declare he
-felt ready for a coffin. It was beautifully clear weather when we rose
-from our sleeping bunks at one o’clock, and the rest of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> day was
-spent sitting in the sun in front of the hut, Max wrapped up in layers
-of blankets in an attempt to sweat out his cold, while I, between meal
-times, endeavoured to allay the inflammation of my ankle with frequent
-applications of bandages soaked in ice-cold water.</p>
-
-<p>On April 17, we were up before daybreak and left the hut at seven
-o’clock, bound for the Jungfrau. Once again a bright sun shone from a
-cloudless sky and a dead calm reigned. So warm was it that our progress
-was a most moderate one and punctuated by many rests. At one o’clock we
-gained the large bergschrund immediately under the Rotthal Sattel and
-there left the skis. Fifty minutes later, having mounted for the most
-part in perfect snow and having found it necessary to cut only a few
-steps, we were on the summit of the Jungfrau (13,668 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). It was our
-fifth visit to the Queen of the Oberland; she had always received us
-well, but never so kindly as on this late winter afternoon of cloudless
-sky and total absence of wind. Much though we would have preferred
-to dally, our stay had to be cut short; for a deficiency in certain
-articles of provisions rendered necessary a visit to the Jungfraujoch
-on the way back. Threading a way down on to the glacier and then
-mounting a steep little snow slope, we arrived, in due course, at the
-tunnel of the Jungfraujoch station where we loaded up fresh supplies,
-not forgetting wax for the skis which were no longer slipping as freely
-as they should. After re-waxing them, we sped down to the edge of the
-Concordia Platz in ten short minutes. The temptation to loaf there in
-the sun proved irresistible, and it was not until six o’clock that we
-arrived back in our little winter home.</p>
-
-<p>It was our plan to tackle the Grüneckhorn and the Gross Grünhorn on the
-following day; a more ambitious undertaking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> than any we had attempted
-this season. The weather was doubtful when we looked out just before
-sunrise. A south wind was driving rolling banks of mist up the Aletsch
-Glacier, and cloud caps, omens of evil weather, had settled on the
-summits of all the greater mountains. By eight o’clock no improvement
-had taken place, so we decided to shift our abode and cross the
-Grünhornlücke to the Finsteraarhorn hut. An hour later, just as we
-were preparing to leave, the north wind at last seemed on the point of
-gaining the ascendancy over the south, and the weather took a distinct
-turn for the better. We straightway made up our minds to adhere to our
-original plan. With a rope slung over Max’s shoulder, and a camera and
-a few provisions in my pockets, we ski-ed up towards the prominent gap
-in the south-west ridge of the Grüneckhorn. Before reaching it, the
-badly crevassed nature of the glacier and the icy condition of the snow
-forced us to leave the skis. We put on the rope and kicked a way up
-in snow that was so hard and good that we never sank in to more than
-ankle-depth. From the gap onwards, we followed a delightful ice ridge
-which forced us to a free use of the ice-axe in cutting steps. Knowing
-that there was not much time to spare, we worked with a will and,
-shortly after one o’clock, gained the summit of the Grüneckhorn (12,500
-<abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). The climb from here along the snow-free rock ridge to the summit
-of the Gross Grünhorn was child’s play. The weather was perfect; and
-no cold wind whipped our faces. We might almost have been climbing on
-a fine summer’s day, so warm were the rocks, and so good the climbing
-conditions. We sat on the top of the Gross Grünhorn (13,278 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) till
-well after three. The view from this summit is almost unique. One is
-so closed in on all sides by great peaks that, no matter where the eye
-roves,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> it rests on nothing save rock and ice and perpetual snow. No
-green valleys suggesting the homes of human folk are there to offer a
-contrast to the sterner majesty of nature.</p>
-
-<p>Within three-quarters of an hour of leaving the summit, we were back
-on the Grüneckhorn, and there conceived the idea of descending by the
-hitherto unclimbed south face, a tremendously steep snow slope through
-which rocks jutted out here and there. The wonderful condition of the
-snow tempted us to this decision. Under less favourable circumstances,
-indeed, such a venture might well have led to trouble. Facing inwards
-towards the steep snow, we kicked our way downwards step by step,
-surely but quickly, and crossed the bergschrund at the foot of the
-slope without the slightest difficulty. Twenty minutes after leaving
-the summit, we were back at our skis and a quarter of an hour later had
-entered the hut.</p>
-
-<p>According to programme, we were due at the Finsteraarhorn hut on
-Sunday the 19th. The barometer had fallen so low, however, and the
-weather had become so threatening, that we entertained scant hopes of
-being able to carry our projects into effect. We waited till midday,
-but no improvement took place; so we packed up to return home via the
-Lötschenlücke and the Lötschberg railway. Steering by map and compass,
-we crossed the Concordia Platz and mounted the main Aletsch Glacier
-through thick mists and gently-falling snow. At four o’clock we left
-the Lötschenlücke, having paused at the Egon von Steiger hut, close to
-the pass, for lunch. In a few minutes we had run down below the cloud
-level. From the ski-ing point of view, the snow was bad, possessing
-almost throughout a hard, thick, frozen crust which made it difficult
-for one to exert proper control over the skis. The strap of one of
-Max’s bindings, cut by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> crusted snow, gave way, and replacing it
-by a spare was no easy matter, for the narrow little slit in the ski,
-through which the spare had to be threaded, was partly blocked with
-ice. Lower down the snow was deep and wet and of such a consistency
-that we seemed to be running through treacle.</p>
-
-<p>Just before reaching the little village of Blatten in the Lötschen
-Valley, we took off the skis and trudged down the long path to
-Goppenstein where we caught the train for Zürich, little thinking that
-we were turning our backs on the mountains and all that they meant to
-us for the next five years.</p>
-
-<p>There is much to be said for winter mountaineering. In summer, if one
-wishes to climb the Jungfrau or any other similar mountain, the ascent
-of which involves a lengthy walk on snow-covered glaciers, one must
-start very early, well before daybreak; otherwise, the sun will have
-softened the snow so much that the ascent, and still more the descent,
-will be most laborious. On skis and in winter, this nightmare of a
-long and wearisome trudge in soft snow hardly exists. The return from
-a climb, especially, is a simple and almost effortless affair. Again,
-fewer people by far climb in the winter season, and, if one so wishes,
-one’s solitude need not be disturbed. Throughout this glorious week in
-the Oberland we had had the huts and the mountains all to ourselves.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br />
-<span class="vsmall">A WINTER’S NIGHT ON THE TÖDI</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="center b2"><span class="smcap">By Maxwell B. I. Finch</span></p>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Bad</span> weather and unfavourable conditions had too often caused the
-postponement of several winter climbs, among them a long-planned ascent
-of the Tödi on skis. At length, towards the end of the winter term of
-1911, a week-end arrived, sunny and bright, heralding the approach
-of spring. On the fourth eager inquiry the Meteorological Office
-gave a not too dismal reply, with the result that the laboratories
-and drawing-boards of Zürich’s Polytechnic suddenly seemed very
-unattractive. The reply came at 11 a.m. on Saturday, March 11. After
-rapid preparations and a hurried lunch, a party of five, consisting
-of Obexer, Morgenthaler, Weber, Forster, and myself, boarded the 1.30
-p.m. train for Linthal. George was unable to join us, being in the
-throes of his final examinations. At Zürich-Enge, the first stop of the
-train, we were reduced to four, since Forster left us to chase after a
-porter to whose care he had entrusted his skis and rucksack, and who,
-of course, failed to put in an appearance at the right moment. Just
-beyond the village of Linthal, the terminus of our journey by rail,
-we put on the skis, the heavy snowfalls of the previous week having
-lowered the snow-line far down into the valleys. At Tierfehd, an hour
-beyond the village, the road ends. At the foot of the steep path which
-leads thence over the Panten bridge we adjusted seal-skins. At 11 p.m.
-we arrived at the alp-huts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> of Hintersand (4,285 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), where a halt of
-half an hour was made for supper. The following steep rise up to the
-Tentiwang showed various traces of avalanches, but was certainly safe
-at that hour of the night. Two members of our party were comparatively
-inexperienced mountaineers; Obexer and I were, therefore, disturbed
-when Weber, one of the two novices, led up this part rather too
-energetically, for a killing pace on the first day often means a winded
-man on the morrow. At one spot before reaching the Tentiwang pastures,
-a short but steep slope of ice-covered rocks cost us much hard labour
-and time. We had to replace the skis by crampons, cut steps and finally
-pull up rucksacks and skis on the rope.</p>
-
-<p>From the Tentiwang (5,250 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) the usual summer route towards the
-Bifertenalpeli was chosen, the snow being firmly frozen and quite safe.
-Had the snow been unsafe, we should have mounted straight up to, and
-over, the end of the glacier which is generally the better and safer
-way to the hut in winter. At 3 a.m. we stepped into the St. Fridolin’s
-club-hut (6,910 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). Nowhere during the whole ascent had a lantern
-been required, as the full moon lit up the snows with almost dazzling
-brilliancy.</p>
-
-<p>Much snow had to be cleared out of the hut, especially off straw on the
-bunks, before it became habitable. The woodshed was choked with snow,
-and we had great difficulty in lighting a fire. Unfortunately, none of
-us had brought a spirit lamp or cooking apparatus, so it was 5 a.m.,
-nearly dawn, when we turned in.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img20">
-<img src="images/img20.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Tödi.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“King of the Little Mountains.”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 108.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Somewhat after 9 a.m. we awoke. Preparations for our departure
-proceeded unusually slowly, owing to the trouble again experienced in
-lighting the stove. Although it was noon when we at length started
-off, we were fully determined to accomplish the climb that day. The
-weather was perfect, clear and calm, the temperature being well below
-freezing-point. In summer the ascent would take some six hours. We
-reckoned rather more now, because in winter one must as a rule follow
-a different route, discovered by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> D. W. Freshfield, which passes
-through the two great icefalls of the Biferten Glacier. Therefore,
-allowing eight, or at the outside ten hours, in which to gain the
-summit, we counted on re-entering the hut not later than 3 a.m. Even
-should this not be the case, the moon would give us ample light till 5
-a.m., and at 6 a.m. dawn would follow after a solitary hour’s darkness.
-All things considered, we looked forward to the climb in the light of a
-pleasant adventure and thanked the fate which had led us into making a
-midnight ascent.</p>
-
-<p>Gaily rejoicing in the excellent weather and conditions, we broke
-trail in the deep snow from the hut across and up the glacier towards
-the Grünhorn icefall. The weakest spot in this obstacle is an almost
-crevasseless ledge which commences near the right bank of the glacier
-and, sloping towards the walls of the Tödi, leads to the next plateau
-of the glacier. Following this line of least resistance, we made slow
-but steady headway till close under the greater, steeper, and far more
-seriously broken icefall hard by the Gelbe Wand. The year before,
-in the spring, without skis, George had led a party up this icefall
-without encountering any real difficulty. Some distance below the base,
-and in clear view of the icefall, we called rather a lengthy halt in
-order to spy out the best line of ascent. After some deliberation,
-we decided to deliver an attack more or less at the same place as
-last spring. However, from the distance, we had our doubts about one
-step, where a wall of upright and partly overhanging ice stretched
-right across the glacier. This wall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> was probably the upper edge of a
-bridged-over crevasse and appeared to be some twelve feet high at the
-lowest point where we intended to launch our attack. Above it lay a
-very steep slope of ice terminating on the lower edge of another great
-crevasse. It must have been about 4 p.m. when we tackled the Gelbe Wand
-icefall. Using skis, we mounted with little difficulty as far as the
-foot of the ice wall; there, however, we had to replace the skis by
-climbing irons. A human ladder was out of the question, as the foot of
-the obstacle was a none too stable bridge over a crevasse. Deep holds
-for both hands and feet had to be cut, as the lower part of the ice
-overhung. It was a lengthy proceeding, for the ice was extremely hard
-and brittle. Some delicate balancing, aided by a crampon grasped in one
-hand, eventually landed me above the wall. On the lower lip of the next
-crevasse, behind a fallen block of ice, I found a firm position, whence
-the next man could be assisted up on the rope. Rucksacks and skis were
-then hauled up, and, finally, already after sunset, the whole party
-was gathered above the ice wall which had given so much trouble. On
-replacing the skis on our feet, a series of circumventing manœuvres was
-necessary to pass over bridges or round huge, open chasms.</p>
-
-<p>Once more a steep slope necessitated the use of the crampons and even
-then a few steps had to be cut. The moonlight was ample; the smallest
-detail was as well lit up as if in broad daylight. All of us now
-looked forward to the march up the gentle slopes of the upper parts
-of the glacier, the so-called lower, middle and upper “Boden,” and we
-were confident of success. None of us inquired after the time, and no
-one even glanced at a watch; our surroundings and the novelty of the
-situation were too absorbing. Probably it was well on for 8 p.m. when
-the gaunt yellow crags of the Gelbe Wand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> became visible on our right
-above the icefall. Gradually the crevasses became less troublesome,
-and soon the lower Boden, a great expanse of gently-rising glacier,
-stretched before us, forming a natural line of ascent towards the foot
-of the Gliemspforte (10,800 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). On approaching the pass we took a
-sharp turn to the right, in the direction of Piz Rusein, the highest of
-the three summits of the Tödi, and were soon embarked on the ascent of
-the steep slopes separating the lower from the upper Boden. Here, where
-in summer a regular icefall is sometimes met with, we encountered some
-huge crevasses. The skis, however, carried us to the small bergschrund
-close under the south ridge of the Piz Rusein. Obexer glanced at his
-watch. The moonlight lit the hands at something after 11 p.m. Once more
-wearing climbing irons, and leaving sacks and skis by the bergschrund,
-we commenced the final ascent over the ridge to the summit. Some
-step-cutting was required. A stiff, cold breeze was blowing; the
-thermometer hanging from a rucksack marked 30° F. frost. It was after
-midnight, during the first half-hour of the Ides of March, when the
-great cornice, which forms the culminating point of the Tödi (11,887
-<abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), was reached.</p>
-
-<p>Bitterly cold it was; yet the fairy scene below and the feeling of
-complete content due to the unconventionality of our success held us
-spell-bound for a full half-hour. The valleys were filled with rolling
-silvery clouds, above which the peaks of over 10,000 feet in height
-appeared as islands in a sea of molten metal. Only the valley of the
-Biferten Glacier up which we had ascended was clear and free of mist.
-The sky above was cloudless and, owing to the brilliant rays of the
-moon, almost pale blue in colour, and not blue-black and starry as an
-Alpine firmament should be at night. One<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> fact alone worried us and
-finally impelled us to retreat much sooner than we would otherwise have
-done; the weather began to take a decided turn for the worse. Through
-the Gliemspforte, the lowest gap at the head of the Biferten Glacier,
-the mist began to stream in from the Gliems Valley. Evidently it was
-rising rapidly, and this was the overflow. On looking closely, the sea
-of clouds no longer appeared solid and uniform like a great glacier or
-snow field; everywhere it moved, tossed up waves and rollers, breakers
-and billows, differing in its dead silence alone from a storm-tossed
-ocean.</p>
-
-<p>Before stepping out on to the final ridge we had hardly felt so much
-as a breath of wind. On the ridge, however, a sharp south-wester had
-chilled us to the marrow, though, apart from its direction, we had seen
-little cause for alarm. But now, on the summit, we realised that below
-those rolling billows of mist a tempest of unusual degree was raging,
-and that we must race for the hut. Even then it might be too late, and
-we would have to battle with the unfettered fury of a winter storm.</p>
-
-<p>Back at the skis, Obexer spent a busy and chilly ten minutes hunting
-for his watch which he believed he had deposited thereabouts. No luck,
-it had probably found a quiet resting-place in the blue depths of a
-near by crevasse, and will doubtless some day appear far below at the
-snout of the glacier. By the time we had our skis on, the wind had
-increased to a staggering gale. The lower Boden was submerged under
-fiercely wind-driven clouds of snow, and still more overflows were
-leaking from the Ponteglias Valley over the Piz Urlaun, and from the
-Rusein Valley through the Porta da Spescha. Evidently we would soon be
-well in the thick of the mists where fast running would hardly be to
-our liking, so we fixed the climbing irons under our skis.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> Owing to
-the powerful braking-action of the long spikes of these irons, we were
-able to cut short the many zig-zags of the way up, and our descending
-tracks were consequently somewhat steeper than the ascending. Long
-before the middle Boden was regained, we were path-finding in thick,
-driving mists where the light of the moon was all but useless. The
-storm rose to a shrieking gale, against the thundering gusts of which
-we often found it difficult to keep our feet. We kept as close as
-possible to the faint tracks of the ascent, which speedily became more
-and more dim as the storm ploughed up slope after slope of loose,
-powdery snow. Once or twice we hesitated, but always some faintly
-visible sign revealed to us our old tracks. On arriving at the middle
-of the Boden, the correct turn to the left was duly carried out, and
-right glad we were to have the gale now pushing us from behind instead
-of throwing us sideways. During the whole ascent and descent between
-the great icefall and the summit of the Tödi, we were climbing on two
-separate ropes, each about one hundred feet long; in summer forty to
-fifty feet between each man would suffice, but in winter, and on skis,
-a distance of one hundred feet is indispensable for safety. Before
-sighting the upper crevasses of the great icefall, Weber, who was on
-my rope, began to show signs of exhaustion. He tripped over the rope
-several times and finally succeeded in tangling it so thoroughly round
-his skis and feet, that we had to call a halt of some ten minutes to
-unravel him. During this process, Weber removed his frozen gloves
-and worked at the stiff cord with bare hands. On the greater part
-of the descent the two ropes marched side by side, Morgenthaler and
-I ahead, as four eyes were better than two in looking out for our
-previous tracks. The storm increased in violence. We crossed the
-first large crevasses above the icefall in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> howling hurricane,
-where communication even by dint of shouting from mouth to ear was
-barely possible. In the thick mist and driving snow, one end of the
-rope was seldom visible from the other. The fiercest blasts had to
-be taken stooping low and propped on the ski-sticks, else they might
-have thrown us into the cold depths of the yawning, deep blue chasms
-which surrounded us on all sides. Under these conditions, questions
-began to force themselves upon us. Could we tackle the icefall against
-such odds? Could we fasten the stiff, frozen straps of the climbing
-irons with our painfully numb fingers? Some of us had already begun to
-feel the first pangs of frost-bite; Weber in particular remarked upon
-what formerly had been but a pain, but now was an absolute, unfeeling
-numbness in both hands. The cold was too intense (over 50° F. of
-frost) to risk removing gloves if we hoped to escape being seriously
-frost-bitten. Could we, from above, re-cut the steps which had led us
-up steep slopes over gaping crevasses? Could we carry our skis and
-cling to those steps, all the while buffeted, pushed, blinded and
-almost smothered by the storm? And if, in the great icefall, unable to
-see the tracks, we should fail to strike the right descent over the
-great overhanging ice wall, in many parts over a hundred feet high,
-what then? Could we reascend in the teeth of the storm and, trusting to
-luck to find the way, force a descent down that precipitous ice-swept
-gully, the Schneerunse, probably only to be buried in an avalanche?
-For above the roar of the tempest we frequently heard dull rumbles as
-ice and snow, crashing down from the cliffs high above, swept through
-that gloomy funnel, avalanche upon avalanche. Should we aim to the
-left and descend, by the ordinary summer route, the rocks of the
-Gelbe Wand hand over hand on the rope, throwing the skis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> down before
-us? Neither hands nor ropes were in fit condition for such tricky
-manipulations. Such were the thoughts which, flashing through our
-minds as we stood together on the brink of the icefall, gave rise to a
-hurried consultation. The result thereof was the unanimous decision to
-camp there and then; for, as long as the storm continued to rage with
-all its present fury, it would be nothing short of madness to attempt
-the descent of the icefall before daybreak. It was about 2 or 3 a.m.,
-and the moon was not only behind the cold, opaque and driving mists,
-but evidently also hidden behind the crags of the Tödi itself. The grey
-shadows of night made the very surface we stood upon uncertain.</p>
-
-<p>Once the decision to bivouac had been definitely arrived at, the next
-question was how best and quickest to protect ourselves from the
-biting wind. Obexer proposed to dig a hole, but a prod with the axe
-revealed ice under a layer of barely two feet of soft, powdery snow
-which would not bind together and was continually whirled about by
-the wind. Another suggestion was to seek the shelter provided by some
-shallow or otherwise suitable crevasse. This was my idea, so I promptly
-proceeded to look around for something after the nature of a harmless
-crevasse. Hardly had I moved a few feet downwards, when with a dull
-thump there I hung, with nothing but empty space under my skis. I clung
-to two ski-sticks up to my shoulders in a bottomless crevasse. As I
-began hauling myself out by the sticks, Weber noticed my disappearance
-and pulled wildly on the rope; an unfortunate move on his part, for
-it jerked me away from the sticks and threw me into the crevasse,
-where I hung, with my full weight on the rope, some four feet below
-the surface. In falling, the sudden jerk of the rope on my ribs winded
-me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> thoroughly. Communication with the others was quite impossible,
-unless I could contrive to raise my head to the level of the ground
-above. Even the united forces of all three of them could not pull me
-up on that rope, for it had cut deeply into the frozen, overhanging
-snow edge of the crevasse. To regain my wind and, indeed, to be able
-to breathe, I had to force the loop of the rope high up under my
-armpits. Then I threw the ski-sticks, which I had firmly retained in
-my grasp, up over the lower edge of the crevasse, and one after the
-other I unfastened my skis and threw them after the sticks. Propped
-with my feet against one wall and my shoulders against the other, I
-could now relieve the pressure on my ribs, and was able to sling the
-rucksack, on which I carried my ice-axe, off my back. I unfastened the
-axe and pushed it into the loop of the rope. Just as I was swinging the
-rucksack up to join my skis and sticks, the rope suddenly slackened,
-and down I rattled another couple of feet. The poor old rucksack, a
-dear friend, failed to gain the safety of the upper world, and fell,
-thud—thud—thud, far beyond reach down into the invisible depths of my
-grim prison. Gone with it, and most regretted, was one glove which had
-frozen to the strap that I had been holding. With my axe I managed to
-cut steps up one wall of this troublesome crevasse, knock a breach in
-the corniced edge, and work with my head above ground. Then I shouted
-to the others, who stood some distance off, to throw me an end of the
-other rope. Between us yawned the wide-open mouth of another crevasse
-which prevented them from approaching any nearer to me, and it was only
-with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in making my instructions
-understood above the roar of the storm. The wind flung wide three
-casts of the second rope, but the fourth succeeded. Putting my weight
-on this rope, I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> could pull up the other one, which was buried to a
-depth of some three feet into the snow at the edge. A few minutes more
-of hard struggling and we were once again united. We no longer felt
-inclined to hunt after safe crevasses, especially as the one I had so
-thoroughly inspected was full of draughts; indeed, the storm seemed
-rather increased when caught between those merciless, blue walls. Under
-Obexer’s able direction, the following half-hour was spent busily
-digging a ten-foot long and four-foot deep hole in the snow, into which
-we laid the skis and then ourselves. Three lay stretched out at full
-length, two on the skis, and the top man on those two. Morgenthaler
-preferred to sit with his hands round his feet and his head tucked well
-in between his knees.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img21">
-<img src="images/img21.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Tödi from the Bifertenlücke.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The dotted line indicates the route followed, and B the site of the
-bivouac on the Biferten Glacier.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img22">
-<img src="images/img22.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The summit of the Tödi.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 116.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>During the whole trip I had not worn any head-gear, and now all my own
-property in that line lay under the glacier. The first few minutes
-of inaction revealed two facts. Firstly, for all the protection from
-the wind our Palace Hotel, as Obexer named the happy home, afforded
-us we might almost as well have camped out on the normal, unprepared
-surface; secondly, that my head was covered with an inch of ice and
-snow, icicles were pendent from eyebrows and eyelashes, and one half
-of my face was dolefully sore as if from commencing frost-bite. So I
-borrowed the nearest rucksack and tucked my head into it. The dark
-interior was full of snow; but by now I was accustomed to snow, and the
-storm at least was outside. Feeling round inside my novel head-gear for
-apples, which the owner reported to be there, provided some excitement.
-One or two, and much sugarless ice-cream, I found and promptly gobbled.
-The gloveless hand found comparative warmth in the pocket of my sodden
-jacket.</p>
-
-<p>Long before morning we were all wet through. Every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> little while the
-three who lay full length struggled, wriggled and rolled until top
-and bottom positions were exchanged. Everyone continually buffeted,
-slapped and shook his neighbours or himself, no one being allowed to
-remain silent or motionless for more than half an hour. To beguile the
-sleepless hours by songs, jests and yarns was out of the question, as
-the storm howled louder than any or all of us together. Morgenthaler
-and Weber, unluckily, had only woollen gloves, which were long since
-sodden and frozen. Spare socks helped somewhat, but anything woollen
-was soon soaked and rendered useless. Consequently, they chiefly
-complained of frost-bitten hands. Weber, whose vitality did not appear
-to equal that of his companions, required much attention, in spite of
-which he at times complained of the attacks of Jack Frost at his toes
-and other parts of his anatomy. Yet, all things considered, the time
-passed rapidly enough in the bivouac, and not half as unpleasantly as
-one might have expected under such conditions. Once the storm tore the
-mists apart for a second, and a glimpse of the sharp rock summit of the
-Grünhorn to the left served to reassure us as to our exact position.
-Later on, towards dawn, I fell sound asleep, only to awake when someone
-announced it to be 8 a.m. At first I could not account for the darkness
-which surrounded me, then suddenly I remembered my head was in the
-rucksack. Outside this “abode à la ostrich” it was broad daylight, but
-grey white, and there were no signs of any abatement in the fury of the
-storm. I must have slept quite an hour.</p>
-
-<p>We all stood up and stamped about. The storm seemed fiercer than ever,
-and in our soaked condition the cold was doubly penetrating. We decided
-to attempt further descent on foot, leaving our skis to be recovered
-on some later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> occasion. Ski-sticks were planted to mark the scene of
-our camp, then the ropes re-arranged and joined together. The crevasse
-I had fallen into had no bridge on the left, so we headed horizontally
-to the right. Almost at once the steepness of the ground increased
-rapidly, and it was soon necessary to cut steps. When we had advanced
-but a few rope’s lengths, it became all too evident that we could not
-descend the icefall as long as the storm raged. Every few minutes
-terrific gusts would force us to our knees, all but sweeping us off our
-steps. So when we came to a fallen ice-block and found a four-foot-deep
-hollow in the snow beside it, we decided to camp anew, in the hope that
-the gusts were but a final effort on the part of the tempest and sign
-of its approaching exhaustion.</p>
-
-<p>Later in the morning, deceived by lengthy pauses between the shrieking
-blasts of the gale, we made two more vain attempts to continue the
-descent. Soon after noon it commenced to snow very heavily, and we were
-glad, for surely now the wind would cease. Shortly after 2 p.m. the
-storm was all but a thing of the past. At 3 p.m., satisfied that no
-more fierce gusts were likely to surprise us, we resumed the descent
-which had been interrupted by a total of nearly twelve hours in bivouac.</p>
-
-<p>Many steps had to be cut, as now all traces of our ascent had
-disappeared. It was hard work and cost much time, as all were very
-stiff, and none had escaped more or less severe frost-bite. We found
-the right way off the ice wall, letting ourselves down by the rope;
-but unravelling tangles and loosening knots was painfully hard on our
-fingers. Being on foot, we at first thought of returning past the
-Grünhorn hut and took a few steps in that direction; but when once
-again I made the acquaintance of the interior of a hidden<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> longitudinal
-crevasse, the majority voted for the descent by the lower icefall. The
-walls of the Bifertenstock were alive with avalanches, invisible on
-account of the falling snow and dense mists, but ever crashing over
-the precipices and rumbling down close on our right. On the plateau
-below the icefall, the mist became so dense that we had to steer for
-the hut by compass. After some hours’ vain stumbling round about where
-we thought the hut should lie, we found it shortly before 9 p.m. On
-the table was a note from Forster, informing us that he had descended
-to collect a rescue party. Had we been in anything like undamaged
-condition, we should at once have continued our descent down to the
-Linthal Valley. As it was, we ate a frugal supper; then slept like logs
-till far into the next morning.</p>
-
-<p>On Tuesday, owing to a temporary sleeping fit of our only remaining
-watch, we prepared to leave the hut two hours later than we had
-intended. Obexer and Morgenthaler started off immediately after
-breakfast, in the hope of preventing a rescue party from setting out.
-We did our level best to tidy the hut, and then had to spend over an
-hour softening Weber’s boots on the stove before he could force his
-sorely frozen feet into them. Arriving too late in Linthal to catch
-a train home, we passed the night in the comfortable quarters of the
-Raben Hôtel. During the evening, the welcome message arrived telling
-of Obexer’s success in telegraphically sending a rescue party composed
-of members of the Academic Alpine Club back to Zürich, before they had
-proceeded beyond Thalwil on their outbound journey.</p>
-
-<p>On Wednesday, at noon, we two arrived at Zürich. Weber went off to bed
-at once and was more or less an invalid for the next six weeks. His
-hands and feet were badly frost-bitten, the result of wearing woollen
-gloves and tight, ill-fitting boots.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> Thanks to careful treatment,
-his hands recovered completely, but most toes of both feet had to be
-amputated.</p>
-
-<p>More serious was Morgenthaler’s fate. Nearly all his fingers had to be
-amputated at the first or second joint, and the remaining ones will
-probably always be stiff. He, also, wore woollen gloves, but large,
-loose-fitting ski-ing boots had kept his feet in perfect condition.</p>
-
-<p>Obexer and I suffered no serious consequences. A frost-bitten thumb
-worried the former for the next month. I lost a few teeth, and with a
-swollen, half-frozen face, hobbled about for a day or two in gouties. A
-fortnight later I was able to accompany Forster on a ski-ing trip over
-the Furka and Nägelisgrätli up the Oberaarhorn. A month later Obexer
-and I climbed Piz Urlaun, revisiting <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i> the scene of our
-bivouac. We succeeded in rescuing in all six skis (unfortunately not
-three pairs), two of which were recovered out of a great flat-bottomed
-crevasse which had split open just below our camp.</p>
-
-<p>The story of this adventure has a moral; an old moral it is true,
-but one that will well bear repeating. In the first place, we should
-never have attempted a mountain like the Tödi with companions of whose
-equipment and experience we had no knowledge; and, secondly, methylated
-spirits and cooking apparatus, warm clothes, loose-fitting boots,
-sailcloth gloves lined with wool, and last, but not least, a reliable
-pocket barometer which would have warned us of an approaching change in
-the weather, are indispensable items of equipment for serious winter
-ascents.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE BIFERTENSTOCK</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Far</span> to the north of the main chain of the Alps there lies a range of
-mountains crowned by the two outstanding summits of the Tödi and the
-Bifertenstock. The former, rising from the lowlands of the Linth Valley
-to an altitude of 11,887 feet, is the loftier of the two and justly
-gives its name to the group; but the latter far excels it in beauty
-and impressiveness, and gives its name to the greatest glacier of the
-group, which flows down the deep cleft valley between the “King of the
-Little Mountains,” as the Tödi has appropriately been named, and the
-stupendous precipices of the north-west wall of the Bifertenstock. The
-range is within easy reach of Zürich by rail, and affords climbing of
-almost any degree of difficulty, from the simplest of snow trudges to
-the most desperately hard ice or rock ascents. Small wonder, then,
-that climbers flock hither in their numbers during the week-ends, and
-that daily throughout July and August the more accessible club-huts
-are crowded to overflowing. The vast majority of these mountaineers,
-however, have designs upon the Tödi alone. For hours on end they trudge
-up the wearisome upper slopes of the Biferten Glacier to the summit,
-whence, after enjoying one of the most wonderful panoramic views in
-the Alps, they return contented to the valleys. A few, imbued with the
-pioneering spirit, or to whom the spice of danger and the sense of
-achievement after hard-fought battles are of stronger allure than the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>
-wonders of the summit view, desert the well-trodden glacier track and
-sally forth to grapple with unsolved problems, or problems so seldom
-attacked that they are still clothed in the nimbus of the mysterious
-and superlatively difficult.</p>
-
-<p>A glance at the three main stages in the history of the exploration
-of these “Little Mountains” is astonishingly interesting, not
-only for its own sake, but for the light it throws on the trend
-of modern mountaineering. The story of the conquest of the range
-begins with Pater Placidus à Spescha, a jovial monk and surely one
-of the stoutest-hearted men that ever lived. Climbing alone or with
-the most inefficient of companions, and inadequately equipped, he
-accomplished some astonishing feats, which even to-day would stand well
-to the credit of an expert mountaineer. To give the details of his
-many conquests and valuable contributions towards the topographical
-knowledge of the Bündner Alps, would be beyond the scope of this
-book; but as an example of his outstanding perseverance it may be
-mentioned that this Swiss priest made no less than six attempts to
-reach the summit of Piz Rusein, the highest of the three summits of
-the Tödi, and that his last attempt, also unsuccessful, was made at
-the age of seventy-two. When we consider that his explorations were
-carried out towards the close of the eighteenth and beginning of the
-nineteenth century, at a time when the belief had not yet died out
-that the mountains were the abode of fearsome and savage dragons, and
-when the inhabitants of a secluded valley, such as the one whence this
-valiant pioneer hailed, were still ready to condemn as sacrilegious
-any unwonted activities on the part of a member of their community, we
-are filled with amazed admiration at the intrepidity, resolution and
-prowess of this valiant monk. Contemptuous of discomfort and danger,
-defiant of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> criticism and defeat, ever aspiring towards the highest his
-little mountain world held forth to him, actuated only by love of the
-mountains and a lively, intelligent curiosity as to what secrets lay
-hidden therein, without hope of gain, Pater Placidus à Spescha well
-deserves recognition as one of the fathers of mountaineering. With the
-cessation of his climbing career in 1824 ends the first stage in the
-history of the exploration of the Tödi range.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p>
-
-<p>The second stage sees the rise of a protagonist of other mettle, the
-chamois hunter, strong, sure-footed, quick to grasp the use of rope and
-axe, and possessing valuable local knowledge, but for the most part
-lacking in initiative and slow to understand the joy in climbing for
-climbing’s sake. He was soon induced by offers of generous payment to
-turn guide and place his skill and physical strength at the disposal of
-the stranger, whose self-imposed task it was to supply the initiative
-in which his employee was deficient and to arouse in him the energy
-and will-power without which nothing would have been accomplished.
-From 1830 onwards, the summits of the range of the Tödi shared the
-fate of mountains throughout the length and breadth of the Alps, and
-fell before the onslaughts of parties composed of amateurs aided by
-professional mountaineers, or, in short, guided parties. But the
-conquest of the last virgin peak still left much work to be done; only
-the fringe of the pioneering had been touched, for, as a rule, the
-first ascent opened up but one way to the summit, and that usually
-the easiest and least interesting. And so it came about that, as the
-numbers of unclimbed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> mountains decreased, the attention of the more
-ambitious climber turned towards the discovery of new routes. In the
-greater mountain groups of the Alps, success in this new line again
-fell almost exclusively to guided parties, the amateur members of
-which, generally speaking, continued to supply the mental stimulus,
-while the guides, by virtue of their greater climbing ability, superior
-physical strength and improving knowledge in all practical matters
-pertaining to their new craft, were able not only to help them to
-overcome the mountaineering difficulties encountered, but also to
-ensure their immunity from the subjective—that is avoidable, given the
-exercise of due skill and precaution—dangers inherent in the pursuit.
-In the range of the Tödi, however, it was otherwise. After the conquest
-of the individual peaks, little was done by way of opening up new
-routes, and a period of comparative stagnation set in.</p>
-
-<p>Towards the latter end of the last century, the old style amateur
-climber, a true lover of mountain adventure, was rarely seen in this
-corner of the Alps. Not that there was any deficiency of climbers, for
-even then had appeared the sure signs of the impending deluge. The
-little Grünhorn club-hut, the first of many huts built by the Swiss
-Alpine Club for the benefit of mountaineers, and which still stands
-on a rocky spur of the Tödi hard by the Biferten Glacier, no longer
-harboured an occasional party at distant intervals, but was regularly
-so overcrowded that a larger hut, the St. Fridolin’s, was built to
-relieve the congestion. Whence came these throngs of climbers, and who
-were they?</p>
-
-<p>So far the Alps had been almost exclusively the playground of a small,
-select circle composed of men of leisure and means who could afford to
-pay for the by no means inexpensive services of guides and the charges
-for their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> upkeep while engaged. Within the circle there soon moved
-two classes; the first consisted of the real pioneers, true lovers of
-mountain adventure, and the second of imitators, who climbed because
-climbing was deemed fashionable. In course of time, here and there from
-out the ranks of these early amateur climbers would come one or two,
-vaguely moved perhaps by the supreme joys that unaided achievement
-might bring, to dispense for a space with professional help and climb
-“on their own.” From them sprang the modern guideless climber. Rendered
-inarticulate at first by the appearance of the new species, it was not
-long ere certain members of the climbing fraternity of the day had
-collected themselves enough to pour unstinted abuse upon those who
-dared to indulge in the new form of mountaineering. They condemned
-climbing without guides as suicidal, and therefore wicked and immoral,
-and started out to strangle the new tendency in its cradle. They all
-but succeeded. Yet one of their strongest contentions, to the effect
-that the practice was fraught with undue danger and likely to lead
-to unnecessary loss of life, will not bear the cold light of fact;
-statistics of mountaineering accidents show, if anything, that the
-percentage of casualties amongst the guided exceeds that amongst the
-unguided. In condemning climbing without guides, they were attempting
-to deny for ever to the youth, who could not afford the luxury of a
-guide, the adventure, health and happiness that are to be found in
-the mountains, and did their utmost to pinion his wings. Fortunately,
-the new movement weathered the storm and steadily pursued its course,
-until to-day purely amateur parties completely outnumber the guided.
-Nor are the ranks of the guideless recruited solely from those who
-cannot afford the expense of guides; on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> contrary, many of the old
-faith, having once tasted of the more satisfying joys of the new, have
-definitely embraced the latter.</p>
-
-<p>The statement has been made more than once, and may even be seen in
-print, that the first-class amateur is superior, as a mountaineer, to
-the first-class guide. Surely such a statement can emanate only from
-those who have no actual, <em>personal</em> experience of the highest
-capacities of a great guide. The truth is, that the first-class guides
-of the Alps number less than the fingers of one’s two hands, and—let
-us be humble—the first-class, British, all-round amateur mountaineers
-less than one third of that. The ideal, strongest mountaineering party
-would be composed of two or more first-rate guides; but obviously
-such a party has no <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">raison d’être</i>. The next strongest party,
-therefore, would be a combination of first-class guides and first-class
-amateurs. Such a party would be able to attack the most difficult
-mountaineering problems with the greatest possible prospects of success
-and a wide margin of safety. Herein is probably the chief reason why a
-few proficient amateurs still endeavour to obtain the services of the
-few guides of the highest rank.</p>
-
-<p>With the firm establishment of guideless mountaineering, the
-exploration of the range of the Tödi entered upon its last phase.
-Diffident of their powers, the new climbers who thronged the Grünhorn,
-St. Fridolin’s, and other club-huts were at first content to feel
-their feet on the old familiar paths; but soon the more adventurous
-began to yield to the lure of the unknown and seek their chosen summit
-by hitherto untrodden ways. Almost without exception, the discovery
-of every subsequent new route up the mountains of the Tödi group has
-fallen to the lot of guideless climbers. To-day,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> in this part of the
-Alps, a guided party is seldom seen, and then, as a rule, only on the
-well-beaten track which marks the easiest way up one or other of the
-more popular summits. So successfully have these keen young men carried
-out their work that the end of the era of exploration in the range of
-the Tödi is in sight. Possibilities of new routes still exist, though
-it is only too obvious that these will provide climbing of exceptional
-difficulty and tax the capabilities of the guideless climber to the
-uttermost. Of the few fine problems still awaiting solution, perhaps
-the most alluring is the crossing of the Bifertenlücke, one of the
-wildest and grandest of Alpine passes.</p>
-
-<p>Early in September, 1913, persistent snowfalls having seriously
-impaired climbing conditions in the Mont Blanc group, Guy Forster
-and I turned our attention to the range of the Tödi where, thanks
-to its position well to the north of the main chain of the Alps and
-comparatively low elevation, climbing possibilities were still at their
-best and likely to remain so for some time. Our main interest centred
-on the Bifertenstock, whose culminating point reaches an altitude of
-11,241 feet above sea-level. Belted, as it were, from head to foot
-with girdle upon girdle of bronze-coloured rock besprinkled with the
-crystal of snow and ice, the Bifertenstock was unique not only in
-appearance, but in that its west ridge, which rears itself up out of
-the Bifertenlücke towards the summit in a series of huge, precipitous,
-even overhanging buttresses, had never suffered the imprint of human
-foot. Here was one of the few problems that still awaited the explorer
-in the Tödi. More than one party of mountaineers had gone up to the
-Bifertenlücke with the avowed intention of climbing this ridge; but the
-aspect of the first buttress, a tremendous overhanging corner rising<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>
-straight out of the pass, had so successfully repelled them all that no
-one had ever even come to grips with it. On September 5, 1913, in the
-hope of meeting with better fortune, Forster and I set out from Zürich
-to investigate the chances of success. As there is so far no direct
-approach from the north to the Bifertenlücke, whence the climb must
-begin, we selected as our base the Ponteglias hut which stands on the
-southern side of the range.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img23">
-<img src="images/img23.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Bifertenstock from the Bündner Tödi.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The west ridge commences in the Bifertenlücke, just beyond the snow
-slope in the foreground.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 128.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>A five-hours’ rail journey <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</i> Coire brought us to the village
-of Truns in the Rhine Valley, whence professional help in the
-shape of a guide assisted in carrying up to the hut our ponderous
-rucksacks replete with a full week’s provisions, ropes, spare clothes,
-photographic equipment and all the other things that add to the
-interest and comfort of life in the solitudes. Towards nightfall, after
-a laborious three hours’ walk through the narrow, steep Ponteglias
-Valley, we arrived at the hut where our guide, having dumped his load,
-was paid off and returned to the village. Plans for the following day
-provided only for an ascent of the Bündner Tödi, a little snow-capped
-summit to the west of the Bifertenlücke, whence a commanding view
-of the west ridge of the Bifertenstock could be obtained, and for a
-reconnaissance, at close quarters, of the first great buttress of the
-ridge. There was, therefore, no need for an early start on the morning
-of the 6th. It was daylight when we arose to cook a breakfast which
-proved so much to our liking that we immediately set to and prepared
-another even more sumptuous one. At length, in the bright sunshine of
-a cloudless day we sallied forth. For an hour we strolled leisurely
-up the gently-rising, stone-strewn surface of the Ponteglias Glacier
-which reaches from just below the Bifertenlücke to within a few hundred
-yards of the hut. At the point<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> where the glacier becomes snow-covered
-and crevassed and rises more steeply towards its source, we put on the
-rope and steered an uneventful, zig-zag course round the more fissured
-zones towards a little scree slope lying just below the Bifertenlücke.
-At 9 a.m. we were in the pass, and looking down the breathless
-precipice that falls away to the Biferten Glacier. Here we deposited
-the knapsacks and, after twenty minutes’ trudge up a broad snow ridge,
-gained the summit of the Bündner Tödi.</p>
-
-<p>A careful glance at the west ridge of the Bifertenstock sufficed to
-show that the only really crucial sections were the first and last
-buttresses. But these two steps, the first rising out of the pass
-and the last leading on to the final easy summit ridge, were so
-awe-inspiring and immense that they seemed fashioned only for Titans.
-The first, in particular, looked absolutely impregnable, and, had the
-usual everyday conception of the sporting element been present, there
-is no doubt that the betting would have been largely in favour of the
-Bifertenstock’s west ridge remaining inviolate. But we were both too
-old hands at the game to be dismissed by mere appearances, and returned
-to the Bifertenlücke to prepare for a closer examination of the
-initial difficulty. Back at the spot where the knapsacks were dumped,
-we settled down to a meal and a smoke; and then, as the rock was
-limestone, upon which nails can get but little grip, we replaced our
-boots by rope-soled canvas shoes and roped on at each end of one of the
-two one-hundred-foot climbing ropes. Leaving almost all our kit behind,
-we moved up to the attack, Forster armed with the second rope and my
-camera and I with a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i>.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> While still only a short distance
-along the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> narrow but not very steep ridge from the Bifertenlücke, we
-found ourselves at the foot of the obstacle, a smooth, perpendicular,
-at times even overhanging, corner of rock about one hundred and sixty
-feet in height. Further progress along the crest of the ridge was out
-of the question. To the right, smooth, vertical slabs crowned by an
-overhang and utterly devoid of hand- or foothold, completely excluded
-any possibility of climbing on that side. But in the wall on our left
-lay the semblance of a chance. It was very steep, indeed beetling in
-places; but the rock was not so pitilessly smooth as elsewhere, and it
-looked sufficiently broken to afford some hand- and foothold. The route
-would lead us on to the face of the giddy precipice that falls away to
-the Biferten Glacier over three thousand feet below; but it was the one
-possible line of ascent. Forster placed himself securely at the foot of
-the great step and, well-braced to hold me in the event of a slip, paid
-out my rope inch by inch whilst I made my way leftwards along a narrow,
-sloping, terribly exposed ledge.</p>
-
-<p>After working along the ledge for about thirty feet, I saw above me
-an ill-defined, shallow chimney which, though overhanging towards the
-top, might have afforded some possibility of climbing directly upwards;
-but to attempt it seemed likely to prove such a desperate venture
-that I decided to keep to the route across the precipice in the hope
-of finding a better way up. This further search failed in its object,
-and there remained nothing but to go back and try conclusions with
-the chimney. First I returned to where Forster was standing, then,
-making sure that my shoelaces were tightly tied and the ends well
-tucked away, and that the rope about my chest was not so tight as to
-interfere with freedom of movement, I returned to the ledge and at 10
-a.m.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> began to grapple with the chimney. Handholds and footholds proved
-to be of the minutest, and the rock was unreliable. Every hold had to
-be carefully tested before use. Inch by inch, painfully slowly and
-exerting every effort of which I was capable, I gained in height. The
-upper, overhanging portion of the chimney required an almost desperate
-struggle before it yielded, but I was at last able to grasp a large
-and firm handhold and drag myself on to a platform at the top. This
-platform was none too commodious; about a foot wide and no more than
-eighteen inches long, it sloped slightly downwards and afforded room
-for only one man. Nevertheless, it gave me an opportunity to stand and
-rest while I nerved myself for the next pitch. A little to the left,
-a fairly clean-cut chimney commenced, which led up towards and ended
-underneath a gigantic, protruding tooth. I thought, however, that it
-might be possible to avoid the overhang by leaving the chimney about
-half-way up and, by traversing over some slabs to the right, gain
-the crest of the ridge of the great buttress at a point where it was
-climbable. So I set out to put my idea to the test, but had not gone
-far up the chimney before the weight of the rope between myself and
-Forster, who was now a good thirty feet below and as much to one side,
-threatened to destroy my balance. Returning to the platform, I took in
-the rope while Forster climbed up towards me. At the very moment when
-he grasped the good handhold and was ready to pull himself on to the
-platform, I vacated it and recommenced work on the chimney. We were
-now in a situation which should rarely, if ever, occur in mountain
-climbing. A slip on the part of either would have involved the fall of
-both. There was no projecting piece of rock within reach over which
-to belay the rope, neither did the platform on which he stood afford
-sufficiently good footing to enable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> Forster to hold me in the event
-of an ill-judged movement or false step on my part. Climbing the
-chimney which was already taxing my powers to the full, I should have
-been powerless to arrest a slip on my companion’s part. No matter who
-fell first, he would drag the other after him. Fully realising the
-precariousness of the position, we climbed on, determined not to slip,
-and exercising all the care and skill at our command.</p>
-
-<p>On drawing level with the slabs across which I had thought to reach the
-ridge, they looked so forbidding that, situated as we were, the risk
-of embarking upon them without the safeguard of a belay appeared too
-great. So I proceeded farther up the chimney until my way was blocked
-by the overhang at the top. Jamming myself securely in the now narrower
-and deeper cleft, I took the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> from my pocket and with the
-help of a stone hammered it well into a little fissure seaming the
-smooth rock wall on my left. Then I unroped, passed the end of the rope
-through the ring of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> and tied myself on once more.
-It was a lengthy process, for I had only one hand to spare for the
-work, but well worth the trouble, as it put an end to the unpleasant
-situation in which we had found ourselves ever since Forster had come
-up to the platform. The <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> was firm, and it would now be
-an easy matter for either of us to hold the other in the event of a
-slip. After retreating half-way down the chimney, I worked out across
-the slabs to the right. They by no means belied their appearance and
-afforded most difficult climbing. But as the rope passed from me up to
-the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> and then down to Forster, any tendency to slip could
-be immediately and easily checked. Once across the treacherous slabs, a
-quick scramble up firm and easy rocks landed me on a spacious platform
-on the very crest of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> ridge. Glancing upwards, I saw that, in so
-far as the rest of the buttress was concerned, all serious difficulties
-were over.</p>
-
-<p>Forster now prepared to join me. Climbing up to the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i>, he
-unroped, withdrew his end of the rope from the ring and tied himself
-on again. He then descended the upper half of the chimney, carefully
-negotiated the slabs and climbed swiftly up to me. Together on the
-roomy ledge, we yelled ourselves hoarse in giving vent to our hitherto
-pent-up feelings and in anticipating the triumph of which we now felt
-assured. It was half-past noon; so exigent had been the ascent that we
-had taken two and a half hours to accomplish this small section. We
-had, however, made up our minds to push on the reconnaissance as far as
-the top of the buttress; so, after regaining our breath, we set to to
-tackle what remained of it.</p>
-
-<p>The crest of the ridge once again became too smooth and precipitous,
-but close to it, on the right, a feasible route could be detected. It
-led up steep slabs to the foot of a crack which debouched on the very
-summit of the buttress. The rope was all paid out before I had gained
-the crack, and Forster had to make his way up towards me. But I had
-good standing ground on a fairly wide ledge and could hold his rope
-securely. He was about fifteen feet below me and just about to wrestle
-with the hardest part of the ascent when, in an effort to improve my
-footing the better to cope with a slip, I felt the greater part of the
-ledge, which I had hitherto looked upon as solid with the mountain,
-break away from under my feet, and a great mass of rock slithered
-down the slabs, aiming with deadly accuracy at Forster. Powerless to
-move out of its way, he received a glancing blow which inflicted a
-deep scalp wound and all but stunned him. Swept out of his holds by
-the impact, he was left hanging helpless in mid-air. By all that is
-merciful, however, sufficient had remained of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> ledge to leave me
-with just enough footing to withstand the strain on the rope and hold
-Forster up. Blood was spurting freely from the wound in his head, the
-extent of the injury was unknown, and no time was to be lost in getting
-to a place of safety, where it would be possible to staunch the flow.
-Staggered though he was and dripping with blood, Forster still had his
-wits about him. As I held his rope taut, he climbed up to me and took
-his stand on what was left of the ledge, while I made my way up to the
-foot of the crack and, with all possible haste, gained the broad level
-platform at the top of the buttress. There he rejoined me. Inspection
-revealed the reassuring fact that the extent of his injuries was
-limited to the scalp wound, which, however, still bled freely. By means
-of a few sheets of paper kept firmly in position underneath a knitted
-silken cap, the flow was eventually stopped. Except in its purely
-physical result, the little drama had not adversely affected either
-of us. Indeed, if there had previously been any doubt as to the final
-conquest of the west ridge of the Bifertenstock, there could be none
-now. The rough handling had got our blood up, and we felt the ridge was
-doomed. For the present we had fulfilled the object with which we had
-set out, namely the reconnaissance of the first great obstacle, and
-it behoved us to return to the Bifertenlücke where we had deposited
-our kits. We did not, however, hasten our retreat; for Forster was
-weakened through loss of blood, and, that he might recover his strength
-as far as possible, we rested on top of the buttress for over an hour.
-Building a cairn, smoking and chatting the while, the time flew past
-merrily enough, and at 2 p.m. we turned to face the problem of the
-descent.</p>
-
-<p>Exercising the greatest possible care, all went well as far as the
-platform whence it was necessary to traverse out across<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> the slabs
-leading to the chimney near which the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> was fixed. It was
-obvious that the last man down could neither venture across these slabs
-nor descend the final, shallow chimney below without the steadying
-help of a rope from above. Held firmly on the rope by me, Forster
-moved out across the slabs and climbed up to the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i>, where
-he unroped, threaded his rope through the ring of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i>,
-re-roped, and then descended right down on to the lowest ledge and over
-to the good standing ground on the ridge at the foot of the buttress.
-There he again unroped and tied the spare rope on to the end of the
-one passing through the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> to me. It was now my turn to go
-down. I crossed the slabs with due care, but, thanks to the assistance
-of the improvised belay, the rest of the descent was a simple matter,
-and in a few minutes I had rejoined my companion. I untied myself, and,
-by hauling on the spare, the climbing rope was pulled down through
-the ring of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> and recovered. A little later, in the
-Bifertenlücke, my camera had made a faithful record of Forster’s
-blood-bespattered condition. Our sensational entry into the Ponteglias
-hut was witnessed only by the too friendly sheep that haunt the
-surrounding grassy slopes.</p>
-
-<p>On the following day the weather broke and snow fell. But we cared
-little, and time passed pleasantly in the preparation and consumption
-of oft-repeated meals. On September 8, the weather was once more fine,
-but the desire to be up and doing had to be curbed until the sun should
-melt the fresh snow that lay on the Bifertenstock, and yet another
-day was spent in cooking and eating, and in frustrating the effects
-of over-indulgence with spasmodic bouts of step-cutting practice on
-the snout of the Ponteglias Glacier. Towards evening we packed the
-rucksacks and made everything ready for an early start on the morrow.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img24">
-<img src="images/img24.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption">“... <i>a faithful record of Forster’s blood-bespattered
-condition.</i>”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 136.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>At 5 a.m. on September 9, we left the comfort of the hut and in little
-more than two hours had gained the Bifertenlücke. Then, exchanging the
-heavy mountain boots for rope-soled shoes, we commenced the attack
-upon the west ridge in real earnest. Leaving my knapsack and ice-axe
-with Forster at the foot of the great buttress, I worked out along the
-ledge, climbed up the shallow chimney and, gaining the little platform,
-paused to rest after my exertions. Then, being now familiar with the
-position of every handhold in the next chimney, I climbed quickly up
-to the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i>, threaded the rope through the ring and crossed
-over the slabs lower down to the broad ledge on the right. As soon as I
-had firmly established myself, Forster unroped. Drawing the rope free
-from the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i>, I flung it down to him so that he might tie on
-to it our knapsacks and axes; the latter were necessary, for it was
-our intention to traverse the mountain, descending by the south ridge
-and the Frisallücke. The goods were soon pulled up to my level and
-removed, and once more the coils of rope swished through the air to
-Forster, who again tied himself on and was soon up beside me. From here
-onwards, past the scene of the accident to the foot of the last great
-buttress, all was plain sailing. Five intermediate steps or buttresses
-had to be surmounted. One yielded to a frontal attack; the others were
-turned without great difficulty either on their right or left. Twice
-we had to take to steep snow, a change of footgear being necessary on
-both occasions. At length we stood on the ridge at the foot of the
-last buttress, the most formidable barrier remaining between us and
-success. The ridge itself and the wall to the left both overhung to
-such an extent that they defied attack. To the right, however, the
-rocks were less steep and more broken up, and for about one hundred
-feet<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> we made our way across them under the great wall of the step. On
-attempting to strike upwards, however, we found that we had misjudged
-the gradient, and after a stern struggle I recoiled defeated. We then
-continued our traverse still further to the right across a series of
-smooth, precipitous slabs where, for the second time on this ridge, in
-spite of the great length of rope at our disposal, the utter absence of
-belays or suitable standing grounds forced us into a situation in which
-the protection afforded by the rope was nil, and a slip on the part of
-one of us would have involved the destruction of both. Each knowing
-that where one could climb the other could follow, and both confident
-that neither would slip, we did not dream of retreat. But had we been
-at the mercy of a companion who was clumsy and frequently in need of
-assistance, even at this advanced stage where we were so near our goal,
-we would have broken off the climb. Why, one may ask, not dispense with
-the rope altogether in such a situation where it is little more than
-a dangerous encumbrance? My reply is a simple statement of fact, from
-which each may draw his own inferences. I would prefer not to climb
-with the man who advocates such a policy.</p>
-
-<p>Safely over the slabs, we came to the foot of a very steep, shallow
-gully leading to a great snow cornice on the ridge above the buttress.
-With much difficulty we climbed the first hundred feet and reached a
-broad, almost level shelf barely fifty feet below the cornice. A huge
-lump of the latter had fallen away, leaving a gap that gave easy access
-to the ridge. Between us and the gap lay a stretch of easy, broken
-rocks, so, once more changing footgear and donning mountain boots, we
-scrambled up and at last stepped out through the cornice back on to the
-ridge.</p>
-
-<p>A north breeze, cool and bracing, met us. The snow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> under foot sparkled
-in the brilliant noonday light. The neighbouring peaks stood up bold
-and sharp in the clear atmosphere. The sun flooded all with warmth.
-It was good to be alive. A last, half-whimsical glance at the little
-St. Fridolin’s hut, a tiny brown speck at the foot of the great
-four-thousand-foot wall, and we turned our steps along the snow-crested
-ridge towards the summit. Chipping a step here and there where the
-cornice forced us out on to the steep north flank, we mounted speedily.
-One more clamber over a pitch of easy, broken rocks and the fight was
-over. At 2 p.m. we stood atop of the Bifertenstock.</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Those interested in the exploits of Placidus à Spescha
-would do well to consult the articles contributed to the Alpine Journal
-by <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> H. Dübi and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> D. W. Freshfield. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Freshfield, the greatest
-living British mountaineering explorer, was one of the pioneers of
-climbing in the range of the Tödi.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> A stout iron pin or nail provided with a ring at one end.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br />
-<span class="vsmall">MONTE ROSA</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Upon</span> a bright summer’s morning in 1911, we<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> lay on the warm rocks of
-the Monte Moro, gazing spell-bound at the avalanche-swept slopes of the
-greatest precipice in the Alps—the east face of Monte Rosa. Max saw
-chances of a grand climb and thought some of the bergschrunds looked
-bad; then, turning his attention to more personal matters, proceeded
-to indulge in a rigid foot inspection. Obexer could not contain his
-enthusiasm and greeted each avalanche, as it swept down the Marinelli
-Couloir, with merry song and derisive yells. Case “guessed you’d
-have to hustle some in the Rockies to go one better” and, curling up
-comfortably on a warm slab, went to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps from nowhere else are the impressive beauties and the almost
-overwhelming grandeur of the Monte Rosa of Macugnaga to be seen to
-better advantage than from the Monte Moro. From the Jägerhorn up the
-Nordend, over the Grenz Gipfel, beyond the Zumstein Spitze and the
-Punta Margherita down to the Colle della Loccie, the eye travelled on
-that still, clear morning along a bewildering succession of clear-cut
-snow-crests, aglow and glistening in the morning light, interrupted
-here and there by gaunt rock cliffs all dusted with freshly-fallen
-snow. Rolling mists obscured the Macugnaga Glacier and gently bathed
-the foot of the precipitous slopes and avalanche-seared cliffs that
-towered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> up, tier upon tier, to the support of the summit ridges—a
-support seemingly robbed of stability by the clouds that concealed
-its foundations; an immense wall perched up above illimitable space
-and threatened with imminent dissolution. The trembling, bluish haze
-of distance, deepening in hue as the sun’s rays gained in strength,
-softened the sharp outlines of the ridges, the harsh contrast between
-rock and snow; and, with the thinning of the mists above the Macugnaga
-Glacier, cliff and cloud gradually merged into each other. A grand and
-glorious sight had now been transformed into a vision, almost ethereal
-in its sublime beauty, and into my half-waking dreams there came a
-fleeting glimpse of the climber’s paradise.</p>
-
-<p>The moments passed, bringing in their train a multitude of thoughts and
-happenings of which the mind, with such happy facility, selects and
-stores up none but the pleasant, to serve later as a panacea for all
-the evils that beset those of the true faith during their servitude
-in the plains. Max had donned his boots, and together we discussed
-the problem confronting us. Case stirred uneasily on his rocky couch,
-awoke, and joined in the solemn conclave. Then came Obexer, who, with
-the optimism of all his nineteen years, pointed out a route leading up
-to the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel, to follow which would have led to
-certain and sudden death. Detail was lost in the hazy distance, and we
-could arrive at no solution of how to avoid the badly-broken belt of
-séracs which crowns the rocks of the Imseng Rücken. Avalanches fell
-frequently; many, finding insufficient room in the Marinelli Couloir to
-contain them in their mad rush towards the glacier far below, plunged
-down over the broken rocks of the Imseng Rücken in rolling clouds of
-driven snow.</p>
-
-<p>We lunched in Macugnaga. The porter, Alessandro Corsi,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> the sole
-survivor of the ill-fated Damiano Marinelli’s party which was
-overwhelmed by an avalanche on the Imseng Rücken in 1881, joined us at
-our table with that delightfully unassuming camaraderie which is still
-an endearing feature of the natives of the unspoilt valleys of Alpine
-Italy. The news of our project spread rapidly, and all too soon we were
-forced to beat a hasty retreat up the path to the Belvedère Hôtel, in
-order to escape the lively torrent of questions and comments which were
-rained down upon us from all quarters. But it was only another case
-of out of the frying-pan into the fire. Long before we found shelter
-in the Belvedère, a thunderstorm had drenched us to the skin. Towards
-sunset, the clouds lifted from the summit ridges, to reveal a generous
-sprinkling of new snow on the upper slopes of Monte Rosa.</p>
-
-<p>After sunrise on the following morning (August 7, 1911), we left our
-comfortable quarters and strolled up the Macugnaga Glacier past the
-Pedriolo Alp. Here a halt was called to enable Max and myself to
-submit to a critical examination the séracs above the Imseng Rücken.
-If only possible, we wished to avoid having to find a way through the
-lower belt of these grotesquely piled-up pinnacles whose stability
-was so obviously doubtful. Apart from this, I was well aware of the
-difficulties with which this intricate labyrinth abounded, and of the
-loss of time that the overcoming of these difficulties would entail—a
-most serious matter on such an expedition as this. From the Imseng
-Rücken to the Silber Sattel, the Marinelli Couloir glistened with ice,
-and the idea of cutting up its full length was soon renounced. Quite
-apart from the volume of step-cutting in promise, the couloir serves as
-a huge drainage funnel for the avalanches falling down the walls of the
-vast amphitheatre extending from the Nordend to the Punta Margherita,
-and to remain in it for hours on end would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> be to incur too grave
-risks. Finally, we decided to try to evade the worst of the séracs by
-cutting up the Marinelli Couloir to a point about six hundred and fifty
-feet above the head of the Imseng Rücken; then, turning to the left
-towards the Punta Margherita, we would grapple with the broken medley
-of séracs, ice cliffs and bergschrunds through which a way must be
-forced ere the final bergschrund below the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel
-were gained. Actually the expedition was carried out in conformity with
-these plans, down to almost the last detail; but in the light of later
-experience I believe that following the Marinelli Couloir throughout
-would have brought us to our goal more quickly and in far greater
-safety.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img25">
-<img src="images/img25.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>R. H. K. Peto.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The east face of Monte Rosa.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The summits on the skyline ridge are, from left to right, the
-Punta Margherita, Zumstein Spitze, Grenz Gipfel and the Nordend. The
-Marinelli Couloir descends from the depression between the Grenz Gipfel
-and the Nordend.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 142.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>While the others wandered off at intervals towards the rocks of the
-Jäger Rücken upon which the Marinelli hut is built, I remained behind
-for some moments to make a few rough sketches and notes which might
-serve later to guide our party through some of the more intricate
-portions of the climb. Upon rejoining my companions, I found that they
-had missed the ill-defined track which leads to the hut; but as time
-was our own, and no one evinced a desire to waste energy looking for
-anything so elusive as a mountain track, we muddled along contentedly,
-always keeping to the northern slopes of the Jäger Rücken. The
-steepening rocks were interspersed with abominable screes and slippery
-grass, and in due course the inevitable happened, and further progress
-appeared to be barred. Closer inspection, however, revealed a long and
-narrow chimney of forbidding aspect and furnished with a tremulous
-chock-stone. It led upwards in the desired direction towards the ridge
-of the Jäger Rücken to our left. A first attempt to scale the chimney
-failed, and I beat a retreat to the foot of the stubborn obstacle to
-rid myself of the encumbrance of the knapsack and tie myself on to the
-rope<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> which Max had meanwhile uncoiled. The second attack met with
-more success, and, after a wobbly fight with the unsteady chock-stone
-and having run out to the full length of a hundred-foot rope, I found
-good standing ground. Those below resolutely refused to be cajoled into
-climbing up to me with their lawful burdens upon their own shoulders,
-and, in spite of my protests, I was reduced to hauling the knapsacks up
-on the rope. The others speedily followed, and in a few strides we were
-on the ridge. A moment or two later the track revealed itself, though
-somewhat late in the day. The easy going methods of the guideless
-climber, who seldom bothers to find the correct way to a hut, and the
-last little tussle with the chimney had cost much time; we had been
-over five hours on the way, when four hours’ easy going should have
-seen us settled in the hut. Now, however, everything was plain sailing,
-and the level of the hut was rapidly approached. Just as we were about
-to leave the ridge to traverse towards the hut, a large stone—gentle
-reminder, perhaps, of what the morrow held in store—hurtled down
-through space with a fiendish “whirr-whirr” and crashed into the rocks
-a few yards below. This sort of thing was somewhat disconcerting, for
-do not the most learned authorities assure the climber that falling
-stones are not met with on ridges? Perhaps this was merely the
-proverbial exception to the rule; but, not wishing to become embroiled
-in a contest with another such exception, we left the ridge and, under
-the comparative shelter of some steep rocks, traversed rapidly towards
-the hut. At midday we had successfully solved the problem of unlocking
-the door with an ice-axe, that most efficient of master-keys.</p>
-
-<p>The Marinelli hut is built against an overhanging rock wall at an
-altitude of over 10,000 feet on the Jäger Rücken, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> broad and somewhat
-ill-defined rocky ridge which, forming the lower boundary of the bottom
-half of the Marinelli Couloir, separates the latter from the Nordend
-Glacier. The floor space of the hut measures some thirteen by nineteen
-feet, of which half is occupied by two bare, wooden shelves which
-do duty as sleeping quarters; the other half accommodates a table,
-a couple of rough benches and a stove which, for lack of firewood,
-appeared to us to be the only superfluous luxury in an interior of
-otherwise Spartan simplicity. Eight musty and evil-smelling blankets
-which we hung up outside to air and dry, a visitors’ book and a few
-dirty pots and pans completed the inventory. The visitors’ book soon
-fell into the eager hands of Obexer, and whilst Case and Max busied
-themselves with preparations for lunch and struggled with a refractory
-spirit stove, he proceeded to pump me dry of all the information at my
-disposal which would help him to compile the array of facts entering
-into the calculation of what he gruesomely termed “the mortality
-percentage of the east face.”</p>
-
-<p>Having done justice to Max’s combined lunch and tea, I wandered over to
-the Marinelli Couloir. Case, whose usually somewhat dormant interest in
-external matters had been roused to a greater pitch than usual by the
-frequent thunder of collapsing séracs and the continuous rumbling hiss
-of snow sliding down the couloir, elected to accompany me. Traversing
-almost horizontally along a series of broken ledges, we gained the edge
-of the couloir in less than ten minutes. About a hundred and fifty feet
-above, a low but overhanging buttress jutting well out into the couloir
-obscured part of the view. A few minutes’ stiff scrambling, however,
-placed us above the obstruction, and we were able to indulge in an
-almost complete survey of the whole of the route by which we hoped to
-gain the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p>
-
-<p>The warmth of the rays of an Italian sun was loosening the precarious
-grip of the heavy masses of fresh snow that had fallen during the
-thunderstorms of the two preceding evenings. A steady, unbroken stream
-of wet snow hissed rapidly down the deep-cut channels with which the
-bed of the Marinelli Couloir is scored. At frequent intervals, larger
-masses, often mixed with ice and stones, would break loose, swell over
-and out of the channels and, as if impatient of the bonds thrust upon
-them by the narrow confines of the couloir, would overflow the Imseng
-Rücken and with the reverberating noise of thunder dash down to the
-glacier below. Far aloft, gleaming proudly in the brilliant light, a
-great ice pinnacle nodded sedately forward, turned slightly round as
-if to recover balance, then, dragged down by the irresistible pull of
-gravity, crashed and broke into a thousand fragments which bounded
-down the great gully in grotesque leaps and jumps. A small cave, close
-at hand and opening out towards the valley, afforded refuge from the
-onslaughts of the blocks of ice and masses of snow that careered past
-within a few feet of us. The whole wall was literally alive with
-movement; during our sojourn of fully two hours, five consecutive
-minutes never passed without the rattle of falling stones or the mad,
-headlong rush of an avalanche.</p>
-
-<p>While I was trying to reconcile the rough sketches made from the
-Macugnaga Glacier in the early morning with the foreshortened
-appearance the mountain now presented, Max hove in sight, and together
-we talked over plans. Finally, it was decided to begin the attack upon
-the couloir from the rocks upon which we stood, and then, by cutting
-across in a slightly ascending direction, to gain the rocks of the
-Imseng Rücken at their nearest point, distant by nearly two hundred
-yards. Once on the rocks of the Imseng Rücken, the original<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> plan of
-ascent, formulated <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i> to the hut, was to be adhered to as
-far as possible. Two other points were impressed upon us; first, the
-need for all possible speed and the avoidance of any unnecessary delay
-after having once embarked upon the ascent; and, second, the necessity
-of postponing the carrying out of the expedition for one, possibly two,
-days in order to give the sun an opportunity of clearing away as much
-as possible of the loose, fresh snow which still remained upon the
-slopes above.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, the sun had disappeared behind the Punta Margherita. The
-chill air of deepening shadows conjured up, by contrast, a glowing
-picture of our quarters for the night. Near the hut, hidden under a
-stone, a welcome find revealed itself—a few handfuls of wood. A merry
-fire was soon crackling and blazing away in the crazy little stove. The
-bright flames, the dancing shadows, and the curling wisps of smoke,
-supplied the heretofore wanting elements of cheerful warmth that made
-the hut a real home.</p>
-
-<p>It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch when the first
-sleepy head, with an inquiring eye as to the weather prospects, was
-poked out at the door. But August 8 was no exception to the golden rule
-of 1911; the sky was cloudless. The day was usefully spent in marking
-the best route to the Marinelli Couloir by numerous cairns, and by
-prodigious efforts at demolishing our generous stock of provisions.
-Towards evening, knapsacks were packed, ropes were laid ready, and the
-fit of climbing irons was tested. Not until then did I discover that
-Obexer’s irons were only six-toothed, and that the front teeth lay
-quite two inches behind the toes of his boots. That meant making deeper
-steps, and consequent loss of time.</p>
-
-<p>On August 9, at 1 a.m., under the light of a brilliant moon,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> we left
-the hut. We were roped in two parties. Case and myself led off; Max
-and Obexer brought up the rear. All wore climbing irons. We followed
-the now familiar route on to the rock promontory jutting into the
-couloir. A glance above. All was quiet in the cold night air. A hasty
-step in hard-frozen snow, and the attack was launched. Here the slope
-of the couloir is about 46°, but the climbing irons gave firm grip
-and, ascending slightly, we crossed at the double. Now and again ice
-showed through in the beds of narrow, deep-cut troughs, and the axe
-was brought into play. Two of these troughs gave trouble. Both were
-over twelve feet deep and sixteen feet wide, with under-cut sides.
-The difficulty in crossing lay, not in getting on to the floor of
-the trough—a jump did that—but in cutting out over the ice of the
-overhang on the far side. Beyond these obstacles, steep snow slopes
-led to the rocks of the Imseng Rücken where Max and Obexer soon
-joined us, little over half an hour after leaving the hut. The rocks,
-though fairly steep, are, relatively speaking, not difficult; and,
-climbing occasionally to the left, but more often to the right of the
-ill-defined ridge, we all indulged in a passion for speed, racing
-upwards as fast as heart and lungs would permit. The ridge becomes
-narrower higher up, and the rocks gradually merge into a sharp snow-crest
-which at first is almost level, but rapidly steepens and broadens
-out to lose itself in the slopes which form the southern bank of the
-Marinelli Couloir.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img26">
-<img src="images/img26.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Frisallücke.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The snow slope is intersected by a bergschrund, which in turn
-is cut by a trough formed by stones falling from the cliffs of the
-Bifertenstock on the left.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 148.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>According to our pre-arranged plan, a brief halt was called and both
-ropes joined together. Meanwhile, the moon had disappeared behind
-the Zumstein Spitze, and two lanterns were lighted. We were now at a
-height of about 11,500 feet. My watch showed 2.35 a.m.; thus our rate
-of progress so far was satisfactory. From this point, however, the
-problem assumed a far more serious aspect. The general angle of
-the ground was very abrupt, and ice was everywhere laid bare by the
-scouring action of untold avalanches. A brief but heavy bout of cutting
-landed us on a small island of rocks, a last outcrop of the Imseng
-Rücken. Though inclined to be slabby, they were surprisingly easy and
-in a few minutes brought us to a steep, bare ice slope. To the left, a
-short traverse offered an easy way into the zone of séracs, the route
-of our predecessors; but, determined to adhere to original plans, we
-faced the slopes leading upwards. The axe rang to the tinkle of falling
-ice fragments. Case kept close behind and, with a lantern tied on to
-the end of his axe, lit up the ice in front of me. Max hewed staunchly
-away at deepening the steps, occasionally cutting additional ones to
-suit Obexer’s short legs; for, to save all possible time, the steps
-were cut as far apart as was consistent with safety. From far above in
-the wild crags of the Nordend came the rattle of falling stones. Down
-thundered the avalanche, swelling to a veritable torrent, and poured
-through the Marinelli Couloir. Some few boulders, as if possessed
-of a more adventurous spirit than the rest, leapt wildly across the
-couloir in great ungainly bounds, throwing up thick clouds of snow as
-they hurried over the upper part of the Imseng Rücken, which we had
-just ascended. No word was spoken; the labour of step-cutting went on
-steadily. The slope increased in steepness, until it was only just
-possible to cut without resorting to handholds. At last, after gaining
-some three hundred feet by the hardest of work, the slope suddenly
-eased off, and we found ourselves on an almost level platform at the
-foot of a huge sérac. Five minutes’ rest for sorely-tried lungs, and
-then onwards once more!</p>
-
-<p>The first signs of dawn appeared and gradually dispelled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> the gloom
-with which the moon had plunged everything when it had disappeared
-behind the ridges high above; but it was still too dark to dispense
-with the lanterns. Traversing almost horizontally in the direction
-of the Punta Margherita, a series of easy snow ledges, interrupted
-here and there by the scoured-out, icy, avalanche-swept channels that
-exacted their due toll of step-cutting, led us well into the midst of
-the crevasses, bergschrunds and séracs with which this part of the
-east wall is so profusely armoured. Avoiding several likely looking
-opportunities of once more progressing upwards—for our previous
-reconnaissance had convinced us that the only way through the labyrinth
-lay close under the steep slopes of the Punta Margherita—we forced a
-way across, and sometimes even through, crevasse after crevasse, and
-above or below sérac after sérac. At last, after having thus traversed
-across almost the whole of the east face, a steep and rickety snow
-<a id="bridge"></a>bridge over a bergschrund of quite unusual dimensions at last gave
-access to less steep ground where the climbing irons could find safe
-purchase without the cutting of steps.</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, it had become light; yet, in spite of all possible efforts
-at speed, we had gained a level of only about 12,000 feet. The outlook
-was not too good, for there was still much fresh snow on the slopes
-above, and, with the sun’s advent, we should be at the mercy of
-avalanches until the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel were gained.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img150a">
-<img src="images/img150a.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Photo A. I. I. Finch.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Grenz Gipfel.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img150b">
-<img src="images/img150b.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Val Sesia from Monte Rosa.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 150.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Case and Max packed away their lanterns, and, redoubling our efforts,
-we set out at a furious pace across the ledge leading to the next
-icefall, the weakest point in which was a slope of, as near as we could
-judge, 70° in steepness and about one hundred and fifty feet high. At
-the first glance it appeared perpendicular, but it was just possible to
-stand in shallow steps and cut without having more than occasional
-recourse to handholds. Half-way up this exceptionally steep slope, an
-irregularity in the ice provided me with a safe footing, so that my
-companions were able to follow me up in the very skimpy steps with
-which I had been satisfied in the first instance. The remainder of the
-ascent of the ice wall was no less severe. Towards the top it became
-even steeper. Footholds and carefully cut handholds were necessary to
-enable us to reach the gentler slopes of the terrace above. The last
-icefall was clearly impassable except on its extreme right, close to
-where it adjoins the Marinelli Couloir. We had already realised this
-from our inspection from the Macugnaga Glacier two days ago.</p>
-
-<p>Striking off in the direction of the Marinelli Couloir, we covered
-ground rapidly, though without gaining much height. On arriving at the
-very edge of the couloir, we discovered a steep slope of good snow, by
-means of which the formidable icefall was easily turned. Cutting up
-this slope, we arrived on the last terrace below the final bergschrund.
-The only likely bridge over this schrund lay, as we knew, almost under
-the Grenz Sattel. No time was lost in making for this point, and
-we raced up over the comparatively gentle slopes with a speed that
-must have astonished several parties who were warily descending the
-Zumstein Spitze towards the Grenz Sattel. These parties were none too
-careful in their climbing, and, before reaching the bergschrund, we
-were reduced to dodging stones which whizzed past us at an alarming
-rate. A most efficient snow bridge helped us across the schrund, and we
-proceeded to cut steps diagonally upwards towards the lowest rocks of
-the Grenz Gipfel, which lay about three hundred feet above. The snow
-soon gave out, and we were reduced once more to cutting in bare ice. We
-were still in considerable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> danger from falling stones which the sun
-was loosening in increasing numbers from the Grenz Gipfel. Numerous
-parties, spread out over the ridge leading from the Grenz Sattel to the
-Grenz Gipfel, also added their little contributions in this respect,
-in their eagerness to watch our advance. At 6.50 a.m. we grasped the
-warm rocks of the east ridge of the Grenz Gipfel, and, climbing on to
-a ledge, we felt, for the first time since leaving the Marinelli hut,
-that we were at last in safety. The ascent of the final ice slope had
-cost forty minutes. Our pace and the amount of step-cutting had been
-so stiff, that I was never so glad to take a rest. However, a few
-minutes worked wonders, and, after taking off our climbing irons and
-re-arranging ourselves into two parties, Max and Obexer being in one,
-and Case and myself taking the lead, we got busy with the last stage in
-the expedition—the steep rocks in front of us. We kept to the ridge
-itself, only occasionally traversing a few yards to the left. The rock
-is good, but the climbing is difficult and strenuous. The whole ridge
-seems to consist of overhanging steps, each about ten feet high and
-calling for plenty of arm work. By this time, however, we were anxious
-to see if we could not establish a record ascent from the point of
-view of time. Max and Obexer affected to take things more easily, and,
-shortly before we had attained the level of the Grenz Sattel, we parted.</p>
-
-<p>Case shared my eagerness for speed, with the result that in less
-than two hours’ climbing we stood on the summit of the Grenz Gipfel
-(15,158 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). Ten minutes later, at 9.15 a.m., we were prospecting for
-a suitable place for a sun bath on the summit of the Dufour Spitze
-(15,217 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). We had taken just over eight hours from hut to summit. At
-a quarter to ten Max and Obexer arrived, and the day was won.</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> J. C. Case, F. Obexer, M. B. I. Finch and G. I. Finch.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE TWINS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">When</span> mountains reach an altitude of over 13,000 feet, one does not
-usually call them little. But the Twins, Castor and Pollux, are
-so overshadowed by their massive neighbours, the Lyskamm and the
-Breithorn, that one quite naturally refers to them in terms of the
-diminutive. Dwarfed though they be by their mighty surroundings, they
-are, nevertheless, every inch great mountains.</p>
-
-
-<h3 class="center reg p1"><span class="smcap big">Castor</span></h3>
-
-<p>On August 15, 1909, H. A. Mantel, a fellow member of the Academic
-Alpine Club of Zürich, and I were sunning ourselves on the rocks in
-front of the Bétemps hut. Mantel, who had heard much of the joys of
-ice-climbing during the last two weeks we had climbed together, was
-filled with a keen desire to see for himself if it were really as
-superior to rock work as I had made it out to be.</p>
-
-<p>The north face of the Lyskamm was ruled out as being too big an effort
-for the initiation of even such a willing proselyte as my companion.
-Within easy reach of the Bétemps hut, however, is Castor, the higher of
-the two twins and one of the most striking forms of Alpine beauty. Seen
-from the north, it is a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and
-ice, almost wholly unflecked by rock. The north face of this mountain
-had never, as far as I knew, been ascended. Beyond the fact that Miss
-K. Richardson with Émile Rey and Bich had descended its upper third or
-half in 1890, I had not been able to trace the records of any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> other
-explorers having visited Castor on this side. Long before the chill of
-sunset drove us inside the hut, we had decided upon this climb for the
-morrow.</p>
-
-<p>Soon after midnight, snow ploughing parties for Monte Rosa began their
-usual noisy preparations. We wallowed on in the luxury of superfluous
-blankets and straw until 2 a.m., by which time the last party had left
-the hut. At four o’clock, our fragile, early morning tempers were being
-severely tried by the moraine leading down to the Grenz Glacier. Once
-on the glacier, however, the stability of things under foot reasserted
-itself, and a brisk, pleasant walk brought us to the foot of the
-formidable icefall which separates the Grenz and Zwillings Glaciers.
-We attacked the icefall in about the centre of its front and working
-steadily upwards and to the right, in a westerly direction, fought step
-by step for a way through the intricate mass of crevasses and séracs
-which sought to impede our progress. Frequently we were unable to
-find snow bridges and had to cross crevasses by descending into them
-and then cutting up the other side. At the top of the icefall we were
-pulled up short by a final crevasse which appeared to stretch without
-a break from one side of the glacier to the other. A little searching,
-however, revealed the presence of an extremely unpleasant-looking
-bridge which seemed far too heavy for the slender supports by which
-it was attached to the two sides of the crevasse. The sun, however,
-had just risen, and everything was still well-frozen; so with due
-precautions the rickety structure was called upon to lend us all the
-assistance in its power. Beyond shedding a few icicles, which went
-clinking down into the soul-shattering depths below, the bridge stood
-up nobly. We now struck out in the direction of the Zwillingsjoch, as
-the gap between Castor and Pollux is called. Gentle, undulating snow
-slopes, broken here and there by enormous, but mostly well-bridged,
-crevasses, provided easy going. Some of the crevasses in this part of
-the glacier were so wide that we had to rope together at a distance
-of rather over eighty feet in order to avoid the possibility of both
-standing on the same bridge at the same time. A second icefall, tame in
-comparison with the first, was passed through without difficulty, and
-at 7.45 a.m. we stood at the foot of the north face of our mountain, at
-a point due north of the summit.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img27">
-<img src="images/img27.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img28">
-<img src="images/img28.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Castor.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and ice” ....</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 154.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>A halt was called for breakfast, and, after a welcome cigarette, we
-put on our climbing irons. The bergschrund, which gaped widely open
-to right and left of where we stood, was completely filled with snow
-and ice—débris from the avalanches which pour off the north face
-through a funnel whose opening meets the bergschrund just here. To
-cross the schrund we had to cut steps, as the snow was too closely
-packed and hard-frozen to admit of kicking. After cutting some sixty
-steps, however, we were able to dispense with the use of the axe and
-kicked our way rapidly upwards over steep slopes of frozen snow in
-the direction of the north-east ridge of the mountain. This earlier
-part of the ascent, for a distance of about a thousand feet from the
-bergschrund, was accomplished in a remarkably short space of time, as
-we were exposed to avalanches from a tier of ice cliffs that enfiladed
-the funnel up which we were advancing. During the latter portion of the
-ascent of these slopes, we gradually worked over to the east in order
-to find a way round the extreme eastern edge of the ice cliffs. A flaw
-in the cliffs, however, absolved us of the necessity of traversing
-very far to the left, and we were soon able to strike straight up
-towards the diminutive bergschrund which cuts into the north-east
-ridge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> of Castor at a height of about 12,800 feet. Before reaching
-this bergschrund, the general slope eased off considerably, and the
-snow became powdery and deep. Once upon the gentler snow slopes, the
-direction again changed, and we struck out towards Pollux, ploughing
-a way slowly through the tiresome snow. In this fashion we arrived at
-the bergschrund at a point directly below the north summit of Castor,
-and paused for a few minutes’ rest before assaulting the final steep
-slopes. So far, Mantel had not been unduly impressed with the supposed
-difficulties of ice-climbing, but the very last slope was steep,
-and I felt sure that we would meet with ice which would impede our
-progress sufficiently to make him alter his opinion. But, once again,
-the bergschrund was easily overcome, and, to my disappointment, we
-were able to kick our way up beyond it without cutting a single step.
-The snow was perfect. Not until we were within a rope’s length of the
-north summit did we meet with ice. The slope here was considerable;
-but after a quarter of an hour’s hard step-cutting even this final
-part of the ascent was accomplished. At 11 a.m. we stood on the north
-summit and a few minutes later had crossed the easy snow ridge leading
-to the highest point (13,878 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), where we arrived in a little over
-seven hours after leaving the Bétemps hut. The conditions had been
-exceptionally favourable, save in so far as the first icefall on the
-Zwillings Glacier was concerned. I have only heard of one other ascent
-of Castor by this route, and that by a strong guided party who were in
-all, from hut to summit, eleven hours, some eight hours of which was
-occupied in step-cutting. This fact shows plainly enough that, with
-unfavourable conditions, the climb can be quite a severe and laborious
-one.</p>
-
-<p>The day was fine and all but windless. We were in no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> hurry to get back
-to the hut; so, seeking a comfortable perch on the rocks overlooking
-the Italian side of the mountain, we indulged in a protracted summit
-rest of over two hours.</p>
-
-<p>The descent over the Felikhorn to the Felik Pass was without incident.
-Shortly after leaving the pass, the snow became wet and soft, and
-being only two, we had to exert great care in picking our way round
-the innumerable gigantic crevasses which intersect the upper slopes
-of the glacier. With the exception of some on Mont Blanc, I do not
-think I have ever seen such huge crevasses as those met with during
-this descent. At 4 p.m. we had safely regained our morning track, just
-where it emerged from the tangle of the lower icefall of the Zwillings
-Glacier. The passage of the delicate bridge, which appeared to provide
-the only means of crossing the first big crevasse, was attended with
-a certain amount of anxiety; but by crawling on all fours so as to
-distribute one’s weight as equally as possible, and otherwise showing
-due respect to our decaying friend bridging the gaping depths beneath,
-the passage was successfully accomplished. The rest of the work, which
-consisted in further following our morning tracks through the maze of
-séracs and crevasses leading down to the Grenz Glacier, offered no
-serious difficulty. At 5.30 p.m. we were once more back in the Bétemps
-hut.</p>
-
-
-<h3 class="center reg p1"><span class="smcap big">Pollux.</span></h3>
-
-<p>Liniger, one of the ablest of the younger members of the <abbr title="Akademischer Alpenclub Zürich">A.A.C.Z.</abbr>, and
-I went up to the Bétemps hut on August 17, 1919, with the intention
-of climbing the north ridge of Pollux. Heavy snow had fallen, and the
-possibility of carrying out a big climb was out of the question. Not
-seeing, however, why this should materially affect our prospects of
-being able to get in somewhere or other a good day’s ice work, we had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span>
-consulted Dübi’s guide book to the Pennine Alps, to find therein no
-recorded ascent of Pollux by the north ridge.</p>
-
-<p>Since traversing Monte Rosa in 1911, this was my first visit to the
-Bétemps hut. The hut had been slightly enlarged, but otherwise I found
-everything much the same. It seemed almost incredible that eight years
-had elapsed since I had last watched the setting sun tinge with red the
-summits of that glorious line of peaks which runs from the Matterhorn
-to the Weisshorn. Numerous other parties arrived at the hut towards the
-end of the day, and, in order not to impede their preparations for a
-meal, we turned in to sleep at a fairly early hour.</p>
-
-<p>At 2 a.m. on August 18, 1919, we were up just in time to see the
-tail-end of numerous Monte Rosa parties disappear. They took with them
-their unsated curiosity as to our intentions, for, having our doubts as
-to the possibility of winning through on our climb, we had refrained
-from giving them any inkling of our intentions. Shortly after 3 a.m. we
-were ready to move off and descended over the moraine on to the Gorner
-Glacier, across which we struck in a due westerly direction. Several
-times we trod through into concealed pools of icy water and got our
-feet thoroughly soaked. It was still dark when we arrived at the steep
-moraine which marks the beginning of the north ridge of Pollux; and in
-the fitful light of the lantern, the ascent of this moraine, composed
-of mud and loose stones poised at an almost impossible angle, was
-little short of misery. At last, however, its summit was attained, and
-progress became better. Later on, where the moraine fizzled out into
-snow slopes, the light of day enabled us to dispense with the lantern,
-and we put on the rope. Proceeding up these snow slopes, dodging an
-occasional crevasse, we kept steadily on in the direction of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> the
-depression which lies a few yards due north of the first of the three
-prominent humps on the north ridge. We stood in this depression at 5
-a.m. and immediately began the attack on the steep ice bulge which
-defends the approach to the next hump.</p>
-
-<p>At first we mounted rapidly over fairly steep slopes covered with
-excellent snow. These, however, gave out as the slope increased,
-and we were reduced to cutting in bare ice. This proved to be of an
-extraordinarily tough consistency. It was dark grey, at times almost
-black in colour, and frequently the only result that a blow from
-the axe accomplished was to make a small hole, from which the pick
-tenaciously refused to be removed except at the cost of much twisting
-and pulling. In all, we had to cut about one hundred and sixty steps;
-but, for the reasons I have mentioned, progress was inordinately
-slow. Towards the top of the slope, we were able to save much work by
-making use of the irregularities in the sides of a crevasse which cut
-vertically into the ice. Once above the steeper portions of the slope,
-good snow led up to the summit of the middle hump (nearly 12,000 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>)
-which we reached at 7.15 a.m.</p>
-
-<p>The third hump is about six hundred feet higher up, and the ridge
-connecting it with the point on which we now stood was in part heavily
-corniced. We therefore kept fairly well to the west of the ridge, but
-had to pay dearly for doing so; there was a great accumulation of new
-snow, and the work of stamping was heavy.</p>
-
-<p>By 8.30 a.m. we had passed round and slightly below the third hump,
-and gained the foot of the final slopes into which the north ridge of
-Pollux broadens out ere it reaches the summit. The next obstacle in our
-way was an extremely unpleasant-looking bergschrund surmounted by an
-enormously<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> steep ice wall some seventy to eighty feet in height. At a
-first glance, it appeared doubtful as to whether this obstacle could be
-overcome, so we wisely decided to call a brief halt in order to recruit
-our strength.</p>
-
-<p>At 8.45 a.m., leaving my knapsack with Liniger and taking in exchange
-his axe, I started out to see what could be done with our formidable
-antagonist. By standing on the lower lip of the bergschrund and pushing
-both axes up to the hilt into the good snow on the other side, I was
-able to haul myself across and kick a somewhat precarious foothold.
-Still making use of Liniger’s axe as a handhold and cutting steps
-with my own, I succeeded in securing a better purchase on the steep
-slope leading upwards from the upper lip. The angle of this slope was
-certainly over sixty degrees; yet, in spite of this, it was hung with
-vast quantities of dry, powdery snow. To obtain a foothold without
-first sweeping this away and then cutting steps in the ice below, was
-impossible. To the right, a few yards higher up, a flake of ice had
-become partially detached from the wall, and, after gaining this, I
-was able to find sufficiently good standing ground for Liniger to
-follow. The next hundred feet consisted of perfectly straightforward
-cutting, though the ice was still very steep and covered with masses
-of soft, new snow that had to be swept down prior to the hewing out of
-each step. The cold was considerable, and Liniger began to complain of
-losing sensation in his feet. For my part, I did not suffer from cold,
-as I was wearing Norwegian ski-ing boots, inside of which were three
-pairs of thick woollen socks. Frost-bite would have been a most serious
-matter at this point of the climb, so we made every effort to gain the
-gentler slopes at the foot of the final wall below the summit. At 10
-a.m. we reached these slopes which stretch in the form of a terrace
-almost across the whole of the north face of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> Pollux. Firmly digging
-in the axes and belaying our ropes round them, we sat down and, after
-removing Liniger’s boots, proceeded to inspect the damage, if any. To
-our relief, animation was restored by vigorous and prolonged rubbing,
-and we replaced his sodden socks with a dry pair which he was fortunate
-enough to have in his knapsack.</p>
-
-<p>The weather, which up till now had been clear, began to assume a
-doubtful aspect. A westerly wind was sweeping masses of cloud towards
-us from the Breithorn, and occasionally we were enveloped in mist. As
-neither of us knew anything whatever about the descent of Pollux, it
-was clear that we had no more time to lose. Liniger took the lead and,
-dashing furiously ahead, kicked his way up the final slopes, until
-bare ice breaking through the snow rendered this method of progress
-no longer possible. Once more the interminable step-cutting became
-necessary. A small bergschrund was passed almost without its presence
-being noticed. The final slope is steep and consists of pure ice, but
-we found it covered by the same incohesive masses of new snow which
-had so impeded our progress lower down. Liniger worked valiantly, and,
-in spite of the circumstances, we made comparatively rapid progress.
-Long before reaching the summit, we were shrouded in driving, clammy
-mist, and the cold became bitter. It was not until 12.30 p.m. that we
-eventually reached the top (13,432 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). We had been almost nine and a
-half hours on the way, of which time little more than half an hour had
-been spent in resting. But we were by no means out of our troubles.
-Having got up, it now remained to be seen how we were to get down.
-Neither of us had any desire to return by the way we had come, for
-the idea of a descent of the last formidable bergschrund in doubtful
-weather was not exactly to our liking. We knew that a comparatively<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>
-easy line of descent lay down a ridge somewhere to the south-west of
-the summit; but the difficulty was how to find the beginning of this
-ridge in the intense mists. However, it was no good remaining on the
-summit itself and waiting for the mists to clear; there seemed no
-prospect of that happening within a reasonable time. Taking a compass
-bearing, therefore, I set off in a south-westerly direction, with
-Liniger bringing up the rear. It was impossible to survey the slopes
-for more than a yard or two ahead, and, after having descended some
-distance in this manner, we gave up the search for the south-west
-ridge and, turning due west, gained some rocks which, as it transpired
-later, lie on the west face of the mountain. Their appearance was
-far from prepossessing. They were extremely steep and slabby, but on
-the principle of a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush, we
-decided to venture down. The rocks did not belie their appearance.
-They proved to be difficult and were thoroughly plastered up with ice
-and snow. On several occasions we resorted to the use of the doubled
-rope. A steep, slabby gully ending in an overhang brought us to the
-top of a tremendously steep ice slope, the first sixty feet of which
-we descended by means of the doubled rope. Thence, after cutting steps
-towards a rib of rocks, we descended this, and, plunging down final
-slopes of soft snow, crossed the bergschrund on to the glacier at a
-point immediately south of the Schwarztor.</p>
-
-<p>The mists now cleared and revealed to us the west wall of Pollux, down
-which we had just found a way. It would be difficult to imagine a more
-unprepossessing line of descent, especially when one considers how much
-ice and snow lay about on the rocks. However, we had nothing to grumble
-about now, as our difficulties were over in so far as getting off the
-actual peak was concerned; and, in addition, we had,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> thanks to the
-mist, even descended by a new route! That trouble was still in store
-for us we were aware, because we had noticed that the huge icefall
-in the Schwärze Glacier was in bad condition. Knowing that we might
-experience considerable delay in passing through this icefall, and not
-wishing to run the risk of a bivouac, we lost no time in traversing
-round to the Schwarztor and crossed over the pass at 3 p.m. The weather
-showed distinct signs of improvement, and occasionally we obtained
-fitful glimpses of the sun through breaks in the mist. Such breaks
-were welcome, for it was sometimes difficult to detect the presence
-of crevasses when the sun was obscured. As elsewhere, the glacier was
-laden with fresh snow, and frequently we sank in knee-deep. On leaving
-the Schwarztor, we descended the glacier practically in the direction
-of the Gornergrat and met with no serious opposition until arriving at
-the upper edge of the great icefall. An attempt to break through on the
-right failed ignobly, and we were reduced to retracing our steps for
-some considerable distance. Another attempt was then made, this time
-through the centre of the icefall; but, although we managed to make
-some headway, a huge wall, from which it would have been impossible to
-rope down without sacrificing an axe, again blocked all possibility
-of further descent. Once more we were forced to retrace our steps.
-Our third attempt proved lucky; we found a way out by crossing a most
-unpleasant crevasse and traversing along its lower edge. Finally,
-crossing some broken slopes and running the gauntlet of possible fire
-from several séracs of doubtful stability, we reached the open glacier.
-Passing over this and the moraine on the far side, we soon gained our
-tracks of the morning and, at 6.30 p.m., were once more back at the
-Bétemps hut.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE MATTERHORN—A BEGINNER’S IMPRESSIONS</span></h2>
-</div>
-<p class="center b2">By <span class="smcap">Agnes Isobel Ingle Finch</span></p>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">The</span> throngs who swarm on the Matterhorn day after day in the summer,
-the airy contempt with which some climbers dismiss it as a climbing
-proposition, the fact that a clumsy novice like myself has actually
-passed over it—these things do nothing to detract from the wonderment
-with which I shall always regard the ascent of the most famous mountain
-in Europe. I have watched it in its moods of calm and storm, sunshine
-and cloud, and, with eyes glued to the telescope, have seen the
-braves who callously went to sleep last night in the Schönbühl hut
-without the slightest apparent tremor of excitement or expectancy at
-what they were about to attempt in the course of the next few hours,
-creeping down the slopes in the broad daylight, stepping fearfully
-forward, slowly gaining each painful inch. I have looked upon it in
-the soft morning light from the dark pines behind the Riffelalp, as
-something not of earth, but as it were suspended in the air, splendidly
-detached from the lowly haunts of men. And always it seemed to me,
-aloof—almost aggressively aloof—and although I knew that it was part
-of the ambitious first year’s programme that had been drawn up for me,
-I could never imagine myself scaling its precipitous slopes. There
-was one point upon which I had made myself perfectly explicit. I was
-not going to climb the Matterhorn unless I could do so with zest and
-enjoyment. If one respects a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> mountain, one ought to approach it with
-a joyful mind. I was not going to be pulled up the steep pitches till
-the cruel rope bruised my waist so that I dared hardly move myself
-for days afterwards—a sacrifice that the Matterhorn had apparently
-frequently demanded of its votaries. I had myself suffered in likewise
-on a defiant little overhang on the Riffelhorn and found the experience
-of acting as a sack of potatoes irritating to the temper, painful to
-the flesh and thoroughly demoralising. Altogether, when I reviewed my
-general conduct on the Riffelhorn, I had little hope for success in the
-greater venture.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, on an afternoon in August, 1923, I found myself at the
-Hörnli, where begins the climb of the Matterhorn by the Swiss ridge.
-The evening meal provided a certain amount of esoteric amusement. Our
-table was shared by two stalwart Americans who, regarding us through
-immense tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, rushed into a diatribe on
-the guideless climber who was evidently the root of all Alpine evils.
-Their ideas upon this abnormal specimen of humankind were almost as
-profuse as they were fantastic, and their faith in the word “guide”—it
-could only have been in the word, for they confessed to being unable
-to discriminate between good, bad or indifferent members of the
-fraternity—touching to the point of tears. The new light shed upon
-my companion, who was, of course, every inch an outlaw, was rather
-upsetting, and I began to be very glad indeed of the justifying
-presence of Padrun.</p>
-
-<p>Padrun was admirable. He had recognised my husband at Lausanne station
-and introduced himself as a guide from the Engadine. No; he had never
-climbed round Zermatt, but he would be honoured to accompany us as
-porter and to be third man on the rope where madame was middle.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> He
-hoped to learn and one day become a first-class guide. This no mean
-ambition and his diffidence regarding his own merits won us at once,
-and it was straightway arranged that he should join us later in
-Zermatt. He was young and strong, frank of countenance and speech,
-good to look upon and always willing. Extremely intelligent and deeply
-interested in all mountain lore, his general knowledge of the world of
-nature as well as of men was amazing, and the keenness which he brought
-to his everyday actions made him the most agreeable of companions. He
-spoke English, French, Italian, German, Swiss-German and Romanche—all
-well and freely, so that from the linguistic view point alone he was
-invaluable to us on our journeyings. But perhaps best of all he was a
-very perfect “maid.” At the close of a long, tiring day Padrun would
-cheerfully minister to our creature comforts. Without a flicker of
-annoyance, he would scour out cooking utensils that ought to have
-been left clean; dig round for ice and snow to fill the pan for tea;
-light the fire and lay the table, seemingly oblivious to the lack of
-civilised amenities; and turn down the rough blanket or mangy-looking
-sheepskin with all the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sangfroid</i> and care with which Célestine
-would have turned down the cool, fine linen and soft, fleecy blankets
-in the perfect flat. This seeming disregard of discomfort was merely
-the outcome of a common sense philosophy, to which, however, I do not
-think I can attribute Padrun’s invariable success in securing a bed for
-me, even when a surplus of climbers was already in the hut. That was
-more a case of ability to seize the opportunity.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img166">
-<img src="images/img166.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Swiss ridge of the Matterhorn from the Matterhorn
-hut.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The dotted line indicates the route.</i><br />
-1. <i>Site of old Matterhorn hut.</i><br />
-2. <i>Solvay hut.</i><br />
-3. <i>The Shoulder.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 166.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>We turned in early. But the presumptuous nature of what I was about to
-attempt kept me wakeful; so that at one o’clock I was glad to hear the
-voices of my husband and Padrun in low conversation outside as they
-made their preparations for our high adventure. I was soon beside
-them, ready to move off. The night was beautifully clear, blue-black,
-for there was no moon; and the silence was so deep that it almost
-made one ache. We roped. My husband, as leading man, carried the only
-lantern we possessed. It proved to be a sorry affair, for we had just
-passed along the short level ridge to the foot of the obelisk, which
-in the darkness looked ten times as large as usual, when the candle
-dropped out. We recovered and re-lighted it, and pursued our scrambling
-course upwards. The way was easy; countless feet had trodden out what
-was almost a path leading along the ridge, or a little below it either
-to right or left. Soon the other parties began to follow, and twinkling
-lights showed all about the base of the Matterhorn, making it look like
-a gigantic Christmas-tree. Holds were always ready where wanted. I soon
-began to lose all consciousness of effort, my body felt light as the
-cool night air; and feet and hands, as if instinctively, sought and
-found hold. We mounted higher and higher—right out of ourselves, so to
-speak. There was none of the straining and panting that I had thought
-must mark my climbing attempts. Here and there, as we seemed to wind
-our way in and out amongst the rocky towers of the ridge, I was aware
-of the tingling depth of precipice or chasm, and once I made a false
-step and dipped my right foot over into nothingness.</p>
-
-<p>Presently the last of our stock of candles had fallen out of the
-rickety lantern, and we went forward in the darkness, lighted by the
-occasional flash of an electric torch. This proved troublesome, and was
-retarding our progress so much that we were moved to borrow a lantern
-from a party of three Swiss boys who, like us, were bound for the
-Italian hut.</p>
-
-<p>Thenceforward we climbed comfortably and without haste,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> until at 3.30
-a.m. we arrived at the ruins of the old Matterhorn hut which, built in
-1867, two years after the first ill-fated ascent, had afforded welcome
-shelter to many of the early conquerors of the great mountain. Situated
-in an exposed position on a small ledge at the foot of a great vertical
-bluff, it is not surprising that its present state is one of roofless
-demolition. We rested here in the gloom for five minutes, then moved
-off once more.</p>
-
-<p>The next step was to be the Solvay Refuge. This information was
-emphatically impressed upon me; it meant, in reality, that I was
-forbidden to linger and watch the dawn come up and chase the night from
-sky and hill. In due course we reached the place that is now known as
-Moseley’s slab. The historic interest of the Matterhorn is enhanced
-beyond that of all other mountains by the fact that so many of its
-different features bear the names of the men associated with them;
-a story seems to hang to every stone. At the slab, a steep, smooth
-pitch where hands and feet and additional effort are all required,
-the lantern was extinguished; and I saw that the rock around me and
-at my feet was losing its bluish-black tint. But I dared not divert
-my attention from the work in hand. To gain the first foothold on the
-slab, I had to have a little leverage from below and a pull from above;
-my limbs and climbing experience were alike too short to enable me to
-reach it unaided. With the exception of this and one other occasion on
-the ascent, I managed by myself, if the second person on a rope can
-ever truly be said to do so. My previous reading of Alpine literature
-had led me to conclude that, in any mountaineering venture, the man
-to whom admiration is due is he who is first on the ascent and last
-in the descent. On him falls the real work and responsibility; the
-others are merely backers-up, adequate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> or inadequate as the case may
-be. While the party is on the move, the leader must never relax even
-for a fraction of a second. He must never slip, must always be sure of
-himself and never lose his presence of mind. He brings the others up to
-him or lets them down while he holds them securely from above. When,
-therefore, I remark that I “managed by myself” I mean that, well nursed
-from above on a strong leading string, I contrived to lift my feet into
-the holds that were obligingly waiting for them. I had also learnt on
-the way up to support and trust myself to my arms alone, and swing
-myself up on them. An improvement this on my Riffelhorn behaviour. I
-could not then bring myself to believe that I could hang on my arms
-without their breaking or being pulled out of their sockets. What had
-actually occurred, of course, was that I had discovered the use and
-strength of fingers.</p>
-
-<p>At about half-past five we reached the Solvay hut. To describe sunrise
-on the mountains is a task that must be left to the brush or pen of
-the artist. The ordinary mortal must be content to worship before a
-sight than which “earth has not anything to show more fair.” Every
-mountain-top was on fire, and I chafed at the thought that had we left
-earlier, or had I been quicker, we might now have been on the summit
-of the Matterhorn knowing what it was to be bathed in the clear,
-transparent, rosy glow that, deepening, crept all too swiftly downwards
-and disappeared. Half an hour was spent in the refuge, resting and
-eating a frugal breakfast; the real banqueting ground was to be the
-summit. Just as several others parties were arriving, we resumed our
-climb. The ridge proved rather unstable, and great care had to be
-taken not to loosen stones. Keeping close together and all moving at
-once, we presently reached the Shoulder. Here begin the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> fixed ropes
-which render the climb too easy to the expert but are so useful and
-comforting to the tyro. Then came a short stretch of extremely sharp
-ridge with an appalling precipice falling away on the right. We were
-now moving one at a time, and as I waited while the leader went out the
-full length of the rope to find good, firm standing ground, it seemed
-to me that I simply could not face the teeth in front, to say nothing
-of the giddy drop. However, a party was following close behind us, and
-in that party was one of my own sex.</p>
-
-<p>Now to betray “cold feet” in the presence of another woman is out of
-the question. So I swallowed hard, sailed in with an affectation of
-nonchalance and conquered. Indeed, I believe that the main cause of my
-unwonted display of prowess, or rather the absence of my wonted display
-of clumsiness, throughout the ascent of the Swiss ridge was the thought
-that the girl behind might be watching. It is true that I once looked
-back, and found that she was completely occupied with her own doings.
-She seemed even more raw at the game than myself. But that was no
-guarantee that she wouldn’t find time to criticise.</p>
-
-<p>Just below the last gentle slope leading to the Swiss summit is a
-rather exposed bulge. There was no rope, though I have been told
-that there is usually one at this spot. I was too short to reach
-the handholds and pull myself up so that I could use my knee, and,
-disappointing though it was, I was forced to accept Padrun’s proffered
-shoulder as a foothold. Thenceforward to the top was a mere walk. The
-Swiss summit being too small to meet with our requirements, we took
-a quick, dizzy peep over the top into a new country and crossed over
-to the Italian summit. Here we found the three Swiss boys who were
-to follow us on the descent. We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> returned their lantern with many
-thanks, and seated ourselves on a fairly commodious platform lower down.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img29">
-<img src="images/img29.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Swiss summit of the Matterhorn from the Italian
-summit.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The metal cross in the foreground was erected by a party of
-enthusiastic Italian mountaineers headed by a priest.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img30">
-<img src="images/img30.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The summit of Mont Blanc in 1911.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The partially snowed-up hut seen in the photograph is now completely
-submerged.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>A contrast in mountain tops.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 170.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>It was about a quarter to eight; we had been over six hours <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en
-route</i>, having taken our time and extracted as much enjoyment out
-of the climb as was possible. And now we were to reap at least one of
-the advantages of guideless climbing. Our time was our own; there was
-nobody to hurry us off to the summit after a cursory glance round at
-the view. I felt moved to pity for the girl who had agonised her way
-up behind me when I saw her ruthlessly bundled off the top after five
-minutes’ breathing space. I prepared to settle myself comfortably for
-the next hour and, acting on the assumption that I might never again
-visit the summit of the Matterhorn, proceeded to indulge in a process
-of cramming, mental and physical. My husband found a comfortable
-seat for me, which Padrun padded with knapsacks and coats. They then
-produced the wherewithal to appease my voracious appetite. I am not of
-those who, when above a certain altitude, lose all desire for food and
-perfunctorily nibble at an inadequate morsel of chocolate, nor yet of
-those who forget physical needs in the intensity of their emotional
-delight. Like the Persian, my paradise is one which caters for the body
-as well as the soul, especially after six hours’ scrambling. I clamour
-for bread, lots of it, and the thicker the better, and a generous
-helping of cheese. I was given what I craved and a thermos of tea,
-and therewith settled down to a profound enjoyment of my position and
-surroundings.</p>
-
-<p>Just how much of the pleasure of being on a mountain-top arises from
-the view alone, I have so far been unable to gauge. On a clear day, the
-eye can see for a hundred miles, perhaps two hundred miles, in every
-direction, and the breath catches at the unexpected width and bigness
-of nature and the littleness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> of the man-made dwellings in the far-down
-valleys. From above, the actual beauty of the rolling, snow-white
-ranges is, I think, less great than from below. I am of opinion that it
-is the feeling that one is actually on top of a peak that causes the
-pleasure, or rather elation, that grips one; and that with thick mist
-blotting out all view the elation would still exist. One is buoyed up,
-away from the earth. It is the same indefinite sensation of pleasant
-wonderment that one experiences during the not uncommon flying or
-“levitation” dream. One is simply off the earth.</p>
-
-<p>We sat in calm enjoyment of the wonderful panorama. The day was quiet,
-the breeze was of the gentlest, the sky of the clearest and bluest, and
-the sun was bright and warm. At our feet the mountain sloped steeply
-down on all sides. Away below, Breuil lay still asleep; and all around,
-range upon range of snow and ice-clad peaks stretched to the far
-horizon. It must have been on just such a day that Whymper made his
-memorable ascent, and human foot first trod the summit of this noblest
-of pyramids.</p>
-
-<p>About a quarter to nine, we began to repack in preparation for the
-descent, and by nine were ready to embark upon what I regarded as
-the most thrilling part of the day’s work. Padrun went first, I, as
-before, was middleman, and my husband came last. At a discreet distance
-followed the three Swiss boys who betrayed some little amusement at my
-audacity. I thought that the Italian ridge of the Matterhorn was one
-long succession of vertical, even overhanging precipices, over which
-one let oneself down on ropes. Like most people who have never climbed,
-I was possessed of various preconceived ideas regarding precipices, the
-chief of which was that I would find being on the edge of one so dizzy
-an experience, that I would immediately lose my head and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> tumble over.
-A rather more interesting one was that I would want to throw myself
-over! I had often when on top of high sea cliffs, watching the waves
-splash and whiten against the rocks below, been strangely conscious
-of the uncanny lure of depth. Though I had not been unaware of the
-presence of appalling steepnesses while ascending the Swiss ridge, I
-had neither suffered from vertigo nor evinced the slightest desire to
-fling myself into space. I had not had time. My faculties had been
-concentrated on what was immediately before and above me, and not on
-what was behind and below. Precipices were part and parcel of the
-mountain, and to act like a fly on a wall seemed the most natural thing
-in the world. It is not to be supposed for one moment that I could walk
-along the edge of a house roof and escape disaster!</p>
-
-<p>Padrun went forward, and soon came his shout, “A fixed rope!” He
-lowered himself over, out of sight. I waited for his signal. “All
-right!” Cautiously I approached the brink and peered over. I must
-confess to a shock. Padrun was standing below me, grinning cheerfully
-on what seemed a most inadequate platform for one pair of mountain
-boots, let alone two. He <a id="assured"></a>assured me, however, that there was room and
-invited me to “come along.” From the rear came an order to the same
-effect. I was greatly troubled. How to lean down on the edge of nothing
-and catch hold of the fixed rope was a difficult problem. My feet were
-dreadfully far off. But the plunge had to be taken. I suppose I must
-have turned face in towards the rock, kneeled down and lowered myself
-on my arms until I had slithered far enough over to be able to grasp
-the rope—a pleasantly thick one it was! I scraped for footholds and
-found them at distressingly long intervals, so that practically all
-the time I was hanging on my hands. I had not yet learned to shin down
-a rope, sailor fashion,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> using feet as brakes. I was, of course, held
-securely from above on the Alpine rope. My nurse was conscientiousness
-itself, but the Alpine rope looked terribly puny, and I was not quite
-convinced that, if I released my hold on the fixed rope, the other
-could stand my weight. All manner of interesting information as to the
-strength and breaking strain of an Alpine rope had been vouchsafed to
-me, but I was sceptical. So I clung as if for dear life with my hands.
-Presently I joined Padrun on the little shelf, and, as soon as I had
-made myself secure, he went down the next pitch. “All right!” I passed
-the word up to my husband, who came down at an amazing speed as I took
-in his rope. Then he once more let me down to Padrun. And so it went
-on. I meant to count the ropes on the Italian ridge, but failed to
-carry out my intention. They seemed innumerable. In time the strain
-on my arms began to tell, and the friction was beginning to tear the
-skin off my hands, but still I could not be induced to trust to the
-climbing rope and permit myself to be lowered over. Finally, however,
-came the last straw that broke down the barrier of distrust. Half-way
-down one very long rope, my outraged arms struck work. Willy-nilly, I
-was hanging on the Alpine rope like a spider on its thread—and behold!
-it did not break under my weight. The pitch was safely negotiated, and
-almost immediately afterwards we were at the famous ladder of Jordan.
-It was a very pretty ladder with strong rope sides and wooden rungs,
-but it hung over a great bulge and dangled in space. Padrun held it as
-near the wall at the bottom as he could while I descended face towards
-the rock. As I approached the nose, the ladder showed a tendency to
-swing away from the rock, and when I actually arrived at the tip, the
-space between myself and the wall was disagreeably wide. It was the
-most thrilling part of the descent so far, but soon over. From the
-spacious platform at the foot, I watched carefully, on the look-out
-for the correct way to descend Jordan’s ladder, and I saw that when my
-husband reached the tip of the nose, that is, the edge of the actual
-overhang, he changed his position and came down on the <em>inside</em> of
-the ladder.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img31">
-<img src="images/img31.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Descending the Italian ridge.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... a pleasantly thick fixed rope.”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 174.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>All the time since passing the first fixed rope, we had been working
-more or less down the face of the mountain. Now we turned slightly
-to our right and gained the ridge. On the broad shelf that marks the
-beginning of Carrel’s corridor, we rested for fully an hour. It had
-been our intention to snatch only a short breathing space, but two
-parties were coming up towards us, and, as the ground was loose and
-unstable, we waited until they approached. The first was a party of
-three, whose feet were continually getting entangled in their rope
-which lay in coils between each member and dragged loose stones about
-in a most disconcerting manner. It was warm and sunny, we had many
-hours of daylight at our disposal—for our destination that day was
-only the Italian hut—and the world was beautiful to look upon.</p>
-
-<p>About eleven o’clock we again resumed work on the ridge. The ground was
-scaly and unpleasant. Thin, flat flakes of stone slipped out underneath
-the feet. Keeping close together we soon arrived at the Col Félicité,
-so called in honour of the first woman who reached it; but a more
-incongruous, name, from the point of view of appearance, could not have
-been found. A little later we came to a narrow snow bridge connecting
-the shingly slope of the Italian face above with the long level ridge
-of the Pic Tyndall. Some fifteen inches wide, the bridge falls away
-nearly perpendicularly on either side to a tremendous depth. I could
-not help thinking that it would have been much more agreeable if the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span>
-approach to the bridge had been level and stable instead of sloping and
-loose, and the exit had not been blocked by a little vertical tower
-some fifteen feet high over which it was necessary to climb. Padrun
-sauntered over as calmly as if he were walking on the finest Roman
-viaduct, and scaled the wall of the tower at the other end. It looked
-a giddy proceeding. I felt sure that I would wobble to one side or
-other, and, despite the fact that I would simply dip for a moment into
-space and then be hoisted up on the rope, the demoralising effect would
-doubtless be calamitous. However, that “there’s nothing either good or
-bad but thinking makes it so” is nowhere so true as on the mountains.
-The idea of the venture proved one thousandfold more dreadful than
-the actuality. I kept my eyes on the turret a few feet away, and was
-clambering up before I realised it. Daring greatly, I paused to look
-down, just for the good of my own self-respect. The effect was quite
-exhilarating.</p>
-
-<p>Once on the ridge of the Pic Tyndall, the going was easy. A stretch of
-snowy crest provided a welcome change. At the farther end of this I
-suddenly felt fatigued. Padrun was encouraging. He indicated a great
-tower on the ridge. “The hut is just below,” he said. “It will take
-only fifteen minutes.” The result was marvellous; the distance did look
-short, and my husband, who must have known well enough how deceived
-Padrun was, had apparently not the heart to dispel our fond illusions.
-So tired was I, that even my scepticism had vanished, and my memory
-failed to remind me that ridges have a habit of magically stretching
-as you proceed along them. Their ends, like the tops of mountains,
-seem to recede as you advance, and indulge in the playful game until
-the very last moment. From the Pic Tyndall to the Italian hut took us
-almost exactly one and a half hours. Before arriving at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> the big tower
-we left the ridge and descended by an exceedingly long fixed rope well
-down into the face on the left, until we found a ledge that led us
-again to the right. The slope, known as the “Linceul,” over which it is
-customary to make one’s way by cutting a few steps, was devoid of ice,
-and a slight deviation from the normal route was necessary. Up and down
-we seemed to go, and once round a little natural balcony that hung out
-over space but proved not in the least heady. A handrail in the shape
-of a fixed rope was provided. Thence onwards the route was well-marked.
-Short, helpful ropes led down chimneys and over slabs to the hut where
-we arrived at three o’clock.</p>
-
-<p>The hut is small, and we found it already overcrowded. But going
-straight down to Breuil was not to be thought of. The two sleeping
-bunks arranged one above the other were full of inmates sleeping off
-the effects of their labours: most had walked up from Breuil, and were
-to return next day. I made up my mind to sleep either on the floor or
-sitting by the table; either course, uncomfortable though it might
-be, was more enticing than the questionable comfort and warmth of the
-sheep-skins that served as bed-linen. Padrun, the indefatigable, set
-about clearing a space on the littered table, prior to preparing a
-meal. Finding that there was no water in the hut, he picked up two
-buckets and went forth in search of ice; something of a quest on the
-Matterhorn during last year’s phenomenally fine summer. Meantime, my
-husband proceeded to build a fire in the stove and soon had it alight.
-Padrun presently returned with a supply of ice. After removing as much
-of the superficial lining of the pans as he could, he filled them with
-the ice and put them on to boil. The noise of these activities began to
-communicate itself to the other occupants of the room, as also did the
-dense<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> smoke from the fire. Blowing their noses, coughing and wiping
-tearful eyes, sleepily stretching themselves, they slowly forsook their
-couches. I put on my snow-glasses to ward off the attacks of smoke
-and, having ensconced myself in a corner near the window, interestedly
-watched further happenings.</p>
-
-<p>There is no crowd so amusing as a crowd of Italians. Good-naturedly
-they jostled each other, all talking at once. A change this from the
-last fifteen hours. Mountaineering is almost as silent as whist!
-Scarcely a word is spoken while the game is in progress, save as
-command or assurance—or when a player is argumentative or more than
-usually clumsy, in which circumstances the leader waxes eloquent
-indeed! The spirit of emulation was strong within the inmates of the
-hut. I watched thirty of them all trying to regale themselves at
-once—from Padrun’s precious water pans! Presently my attention became
-riveted to one quarter. A youth stood lolling against the door. Every
-few seconds he expectorated in the direction of the fire. Fearful, but
-undeniably fascinated, I regarded Padrun’s cooking-pots. That boy had a
-beautiful aim. The pots took half an hour to boil, and during all that
-time the water remained undefiled.</p>
-
-<p>We had tea seasoned with loads of sugar and lemon. Then we had soup; at
-least, that is what they call the concoction in the mountains. A spoon
-will stand upright in it. The chief ingredients are macaroni, chunks
-of bread and cheese and a tin of beef. A good chef will make his own
-little distinctive additions and alterations. The meal over, I went
-outside. Interested as I was in our gaily-chattering companions, it was
-scarcely fair to keep a seat that another hungry being would welcome.
-Besides, the atmosphere within was stifling; the window was closed and
-the fire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> smoking as furiously as ever. Without was the sweet cool
-mountain air and the silence of open spaces, broken only by the roaring
-of the stone avalanches that made all the south face of the great
-mountain alive.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img178">
-<img src="images/img178.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Matterhorn from the Dent d’Hérens.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... it stands utterly alone, ... surely the most wonderful mountain in
-the world.”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 178.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Dusk fell. Padrun came out and fetched me. Would I like to lie down
-and rest? He had obviously seized an opportunity! The idea of the bunk
-and the sheep-skins was no longer so repugnant, for I was very weary.
-I stepped inside. Padrun had found a place for me in the lower bunk,
-and begged me to accept his coat as covering. Sleep was out of the
-question. The incessant talk and bustle precluded any idea of such a
-thing; but just to stretch out and relax every muscle was sheer luxury
-of feeling. About ten o’clock the entire family was abed. The floor
-space was all utilised, likewise the little loft where the wood was
-stored. I lay all night long in the same position—on my right side,
-and so squeezed up against the wall of the hut that I dared not budge
-an inch for fear of bumping my nose. The breadth of my “bed” could not
-possibly have exceeded nine or ten inches. But I slept.</p>
-
-<p>About half-past two next morning, movements were heard in the bunk
-above, and once more the bulk of the inhabitants yawned their way out
-of bed. At half-past five no one had left the hut, so that all shared
-the excitement that followed. A terrific cracking followed by a mighty
-roar was heard. Flying missiles struck the walls and roof of the hut.
-Tearing its way down towards the glacier was a huge mass of rock which
-must have weighed some fifty tons. The whole of the slab on the lower
-side of the first rope immediately above the hut had detached itself
-from the parent mass.</p>
-
-<p>When the excitement had died down, the first party began the descent
-towards Breuil. Others followed, and by seven o’clock the hut was empty
-except for ourselves and a party<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> of two young Swiss boys and their
-guides, who had made the ascent of the Zmutt ridge on the previous
-day. Both parties agreed to wait until the last Italians were well
-out of sight. We would then go down, keeping as close together as was
-possible on account of loose stones. We breakfasted and left the hut at
-eight. The party of four went first. They descended quickly and soon
-outpaced us, so slow was I. As my arms still ached from yesterday’s
-exertions, the idea of more fixed ropes was not exactly pleasing. They
-were very short, however—all but one, which was sixty feet in length,
-but, mercifully for me, knotted. The experts found the knots a bane
-and a hindrance to shinning down; but to me they were an unqualified
-boon. They prevented my hands from slipping and furnished me with an
-occasional rest. Soon we were on the wide, slabby ridge once more, and
-descending with as much speed as my presence and the necessary care
-would allow. Suddenly my attention was arrested by a loud shout from my
-husband, “Falling stones!” Now teaching, common sense, to say nothing
-of life in London during the war, all told me that when missiles fall
-from above the decorous thing to do is to take cover. But curiosity
-proved stronger than common sense or teachings. I sat down and stared,
-fascinated by the two immense blocks surrounded by smaller satellites
-that came whirring relentlessly down towards us. I saw my husband make
-himself as small as possible on the slab. Padrun went down on his knees
-and hid his head, ostrich-wise, in a most inadequate hole. His bulky,
-nobbly knapsack, bristling with two ice-axes, stuck up in the air—a
-fair target for any missile. I was busily engaged calculating what the
-effect on Padrun would be of the impact of a boulder upon the spike
-of one of the axes, when I heard an agonised warning from my husband,
-and at the same time received<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> a jerk on the rope about my waist which
-effectively laid me low. The spectacle Padrun presented proved too
-much for me, however, and I lay there shaking with laughter, totally
-heedless of the danger to which we were undoubtedly exposed. The rocks
-passed over us; we were unscathed. Some fifty feet farther down, they
-crashed explosively into the ridge and, their number increased a
-hundredfold, resumed their mad course. When everything was quiet again
-above, we moved off with all speed and presently arrived at a fairly
-well-defined track over scree slopes which led on to the Col du Lion.
-Thence skirting for some distance round the base of the Tête du Lion,
-the path brought us down the so-called Grand Staircase to the green
-pasture-lands above Breuil.</p>
-
-<p>Something made us stop simultaneously and look back. Mists concealed
-the mountains; but through a little circular rift in the clouds,
-immeasurably far above and seemingly overhead, appeared a patch of blue
-sky and a dark, irregular dome-like shape. “See where you have stood,”
-said my husband proudly. Then only did I realise that what I saw was
-the summit of the Matterhorn. Inexpressibly awed, I turned towards the
-valley.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE MATTERHORN</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> no other mountain in the Alps, or for that matter in the whole
-world, can make such an appeal to the eye as the Matterhorn. This
-appeal is not merely one of beauty and boldness of form, but also
-one of position. The Matterhorn has no neighbours in close proximity
-to invite comparison; it stands utterly alone—a great, dark, rocky
-pyramid with sides of tremendous steepness, and towering up towards
-the heavens from out a girdle of glistening séracs and snowfields. It
-was one of the last of the great summits of the Alps to succumb to the
-onslaughts of man, and the terrible tragedy whereby four of the seven
-men who were the first conquerors lost their lives on the descent is
-still fresh in the public memory.</p>
-
-<p>The summit of the Matterhorn consists of a narrow, almost level, rock
-ridge, about two hundred and fifty feet in length. The northern end of
-this ridge is called the Swiss summit, and the southern the Italian
-summit. In the former converge the Swiss and Furggen ridges and in the
-latter the Italian and Zmutt ridges. The first successful ascent of the
-Matterhorn was made by the Swiss ridge. Here the climbing is nowhere
-really difficult until one is above the level section lying immediately
-below the summit and known as the Shoulder. Beyond the Shoulder,
-the rock is steep and difficult, and would demand great care and
-climbing skill were it not for the fact that this part of the ridge is
-festooned with stout ropes, thanks to which the most inexperienced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> and
-untalented of climbers can be dragged in safety to the top. The second
-ascent of the Matterhorn was carried out over the Italian ridge. The
-climbing here is more difficult than any met with on the Swiss ridge;
-and though, even here, the rock is nowadays decorated with a profusion
-of thick ropes which enable many to climb it who would otherwise not
-even dream of attempting to, there are still unroped sections of such
-difficulty that the Italian ridge is unquestionably a harder climbing
-problem than the Swiss. Of the other two ridges of the mountain, the
-Furggen ridge, though it has been climbed, is in sections so exposed to
-falling stones that it cannot be regarded as a justifiable undertaking.
-But the Zmutt ridge is a sound climb and has the distinction of being
-the only really practicable route to the summit which is devoid of the
-artificial aids of fixed ropes and chains. Both the Swiss and Italian
-ridges of the Matterhorn were climbed in 1865, but it was not until
-many years afterwards that the summit was gained over the Zmutt ridge.</p>
-
-<p>In September, 1879, two of the strongest climbing parties that have
-ever been known in the Alps at last succeeded in opening up what is
-to-day the finest line of approach to the top of the Matterhorn. The
-first party consisted of the late <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> A. F. Mummery, with the guides
-Alexander Burgener, Johann Petrus and A. Gentinetta; the second, of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>
-W. Penhall with Ferdinand Imseng and Louis Zurbruggen. Mummery’s party
-followed the ridge almost throughout, but Penhall climbed for the most
-part on the Tiefenmatten face, that immense series of cliffs enclosed
-between the Zmutt and Italian ridges, reaching the ridge only at a very
-elevated point.</p>
-
-<p>After crossing Monte Rosa from Macugnaga, Case, Obexer, Max and I
-arrived at the Monte Rosa Hotel in Zermatt, where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> we were welcomed
-by two old members of the Academic Alpine Club of Zürich, Ernest
-Martini and Val Fynn. The latter suggested that we should join forces
-and make a combined attack upon the Zmutt ridge of the Matterhorn,
-descending via the Italian ridge to Breuil. Coming as it did from Fynn,
-probably the most experienced and best guideless climber the Alps have
-ever seen, the suggestion was received with enthusiasm; and, on the
-evening of August 12, 1911, the six of us berthed down together in the
-Schönbühl hut which lies far up in the Zmutt Valley, at a distance of
-about three and a half hours from Zermatt.</p>
-
-<p>At one o’clock next morning, under the guidance of Fynn who had
-reconnoitred the preliminary part of the route on the previous day, we
-descended over the loose blocks of the moraine below the hut on to the
-glacier, and made our way across towards the great shut-in basin of the
-Tiefenmatten Glacier which lies at the foot of the Zmutt ridge. Keeping
-far over to the right so as to avoid the crevasses of the icefall, we
-gained the basin, whence we were able to work round in a wide curve
-towards the cliffs below the lower, snowy section of the Zmutt ridge.
-Soon we were climbing up the rocks and, passing by two little walls
-of stones, possibly the remains of Mummery’s bivouac, we reached the
-snow slopes above. The snow was good and well-frozen, and we were able
-to kick steps up on to the ridge which we struck just above the lower
-end of the prominent snowy section. The ridge was not steep, and the
-snow was in excellent condition. Kicking steps, we made good headway.
-The snow ridge finally merged into a crest of broken rocks up which
-we scrambled, to arrive at a deep gap beyond which towered several
-grim <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarmes</i> or rocky teeth. It was six o’clock, and, though
-our progress had been anything but hurried, we were nothing loth
-to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> making breakfast an excuse for a halt. The early morning sun,
-weak though its rays were, helped to take the edge off the knife-like
-northerly breeze. Nevertheless, we were glad enough when Fynn,
-reminding us that the real part of the day’s work was now before us,
-gave the order to prepare to move off.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img32">
-<img src="images/img32.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Matterhorn from the Stockje.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The Tiefenmatten face is enclosed by the Zmutt ridge, seen on
-the left, and the Italian on the right. In the foreground is the
-Tiefenmatten Glacier.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img33">
-<img src="images/img33.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Matterhorn at sunset.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 184.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>We roped in two parties; Fynn, Max and Obexer on one rope, Martini,
-Case and myself on the other. Our commander-in-chief, bent on putting
-the younger recruits through their paces, detailed Max and myself
-as leaders. We on our part were only too eager to obey, and, as
-soon as all was in readiness, we climbed down into the gap. Despite
-appearances, no difficulty was encountered; the three prominent teeth
-in the gap were easily circumvented. By the time that we had passed
-the third, the sun disappeared behind the mountain, and for the first
-time the cold really made itself felt. A few days previously, a violent
-thunderstorm had deposited a sprinkling of snow, and the steep rocks
-now before us were still white and partly glazed with a thin veneer of
-ice. Under these circumstances we considered it advisable to forsake
-the backbone of the ridge and traverse out for some considerable
-distance into the huge and precipitous gully falling away to the
-Matterhorn Glacier. The work now demanded great care, for, owing to the
-absence of jutting out bits of rock over which the rope might have been
-belayed, a slip would have entailed grave consequences. We all felt we
-could trust each other, however, and without anxiety we pursued our
-course, cautiously plying the axe to clean out the snow and ice from
-every hand- and foothold, until we at last reached some good broken
-rocks which, though steep, led us without much difficulty back to the
-ridge. We were now far above the teeth. For a short time the ridge was
-adhered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> to, but once again it became steep, and a treacherous layer
-of ice on the rock, masked by a covering of snow, drove us once more
-out into the gully on the left. The rock here was very steep, but more
-broken up. To even matters up somewhat, however, snow filled up the
-interstices. It was extremely cold for midsummer, but, owing to the
-steepness of the gully and the tricky nature of the work, gloves could
-not be used, as they interfered too much with one’s grip on handholds.
-For the second time that day we were climbing under conditions where a
-slip on the part of one man would have involved all his comrades on the
-rope in destruction, and we could not afford to make mistakes. Fynn’s
-cheery voice exhorting us to “take our time and put hands and feet down
-as if the Matterhorn belonged to us” supplied extra encouragement,
-if indeed such were necessary, to do our best to show a master in
-mountain-craft that the younger generation were eager to emulate.</p>
-
-<p>Up and up the gully we climbed, and, as we rose, it became steeper and
-steeper, until the man below saw nothing but the nailed boot soles
-of the man above. Snow choked all cracks and crannies and concealed
-handholds, but fortunately the rocks were free from ice. Carefully
-scraping and kicking, we cleared the snow away, and at last, just as my
-bare fingers had become so cold as to be devoid of feeling, I scraped
-out a channel in the little snow cornice crowning the exit of the gully
-and stepped back on to the crest of the Zmutt ridge. Here at last was
-good standing ground. The ridge was fairly broad. Behind us stood a
-prominent rocky tower; in front the ridge led up towards the summit. On
-the left, flanking the great gully by which we had ascended, was that
-tremendous overhang on a branch on the ridge, which has been so aptly
-called the “Nose of Zmutt.” The sunshine on the ridge was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> welcome
-indeed after the chill hours spent in the shade. During the intervals
-in a course of energetic exercises designed to restore circulation and
-warmth to feet and hands, we ate a second breakfast. Again, however,
-the north wind cut short our stay, and at eight o’clock we prepared
-for the final section of the climb. Given normal conditions, two hours
-might have sufficed to see us on the summit. As things were, however,
-five hours were needed, in spite of the fact that from here onwards
-we climbed as fast as we could go with safety and without resting. We
-attempted to follow the ridge, but in a short time great steep steps,
-which occasionally were overhanging and from which gigantic icicles
-depended, forced us off the crest, this time out to the right towards
-the Italian ridge. Hitherto, though we had undoubtedly surmounted two
-pitches requiring care and delicate handling, and the work as a whole
-had been far from easy, the task which now confronted us was an even
-more serious one. I gathered the impression that under favourable
-conditions the ground over which we were now to pass would have been
-perfectly straightforward and by no means difficult. As it chanced,
-however, fresh snow lay about everywhere, and, more pernicious still,
-the rocks were glazed with ice. Shortly after leaving the ridge, we
-had to cut steps across a wide ice slope on to a little rib of broken
-rocks, the crest of which was ice-free. Viewing the rest of the ground
-from this point, I judged it advisable to continue the traverse before
-attempting to climb upwards. Fynn, however, who had taken over the lead
-of the second party, elected to proceed directly up, although by so
-doing he had to climb over more difficult ground. The reason for this
-choice was quite simple. There was a great deal of loose rock about,
-and, owing to the difficult nature of the ground, it was quite within
-the bounds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> of possibility that one or other of us might start stones
-falling. It was in order to minimise danger from this source that
-Fynn set himself the more laborious and intricate task of continuing
-straight upwards.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img34">
-<img src="images/img34.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption">“<i>... that tremendous overhang called the ‘Nose of
-Zmutt.’</i>”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 186.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>After traversing for another hundred feet or so, I appeared to be
-almost vertically under the summit. Considering that my opportunity
-had come, I struck up over ice-glazed rocks and through ice-filled
-gullies; preferably the latter, as the ice, as a rule, was sufficiently
-deep to permit the cutting of good steps. Our party soon drew level
-with Fynn’s, but could not overtake them, though we were working over
-less difficult ground. Steadily and safely, Fynn led his party across
-ice-covered rocks which would have taxed the skill of the very best.
-For over three hours we fought our way inch by inch, until at last,
-almost simultaneously, both parties reached the famous ledge known as
-Carrel’s Corridor. This ledge runs from the Italian ridge across the
-face of the Matterhorn to the Zmutt ridge. Here our difficulties were
-at an end. It is true that the rock wall above the ledge was vertical,
-even overhanging, and that below were the slippery slabs up which we
-had just come; but the corridor itself was in places almost level and
-broad enough to afford perfectly secure footing—a relief after what
-we had undergone. The ledge was heavily laden with powdery, incohesive
-snow, through which we ploughed, knee-deep, over towards the Zmutt
-ridge. Fynn had gained the corridor at a point nearer the ridge than
-we had, and presently I saw him disappear round a bold corner of rock.
-Obexer and Max in turn followed, and from their lusty yells of joy we
-knew that they were back again on the ridge, and all was now plain
-sailing to the top. On rounding the corner, I looked out beyond those
-grim slopes, the scene of the tragedy of 1865, and espied two parties<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span>
-making their way down to the Shoulder on the Swiss ridge. Then I looked
-up. All was clear. The ridge, though in parts still steep, consisted of
-rock which offered a profusion of holds for hand and foot, and, dashing
-ahead at a great pace, we caught up Fynn’s party just as they arrived
-on the Italian summit (14,705 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>).</p>
-
-<p>It was one o’clock. With us arrived another, and to us unpleasant,
-visitor. Harbinger of ill weather, a dense bank of cloud shut out the
-sun and obscured the view. But bad weather or no bad weather, we now
-claimed the right to a square meal and a rest. The cooking apparatus
-was brought forth, and knapsacks searched for food. Fynn unearthed
-a veritable gold mine in the shape of a plum pudding, while Martini
-produced that peculiar speciality of Italy called salami, a sausage
-whose inside is reputed to be either cat, dog or donkey, or a discreet
-mixture of all three. But appetites were too big to be over-fastidious,
-and what with plum pudding, salami and other good and solid odds and
-ends, to be washed down by generous supplies of hot tea, a feast was
-laid which received full justice.</p>
-
-<p>At two o’clock Fynn shepherded us together again, and the descent was
-begun. Martini was the only one amongst us who had ever been on the
-Italian ridge before, but, as he confessed to a bad memory, I was
-deputed to find the way down, while to him and Fynn fell the onerous
-post of bringing up the rear of their respective parties. In the dense
-fog surrounding us, I was, for a moment or two, at a loss as to where
-to seek for the start. Acting on Fynn’s advice to “go to the edge
-of the drop,” I stepped out carefully towards the brink of the huge
-precipice that falls away towards Italy. Almost at once I saw before me
-the bleached strands of a stout rope fixed to a strong iron pin driven
-into the rocks. The details of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> Italian ridge having been dealt
-with in the preceding chapter, it will, therefore, be unnecessary to
-repeat them here. Suffice it to say that we descended the frost-riven
-rocks and precipices of this magnificent ridge with all possible speed,
-goaded by the constant threat of a storm that fortunately never broke.</p>
-
-<p>It was not until we were far below the Pic Tyndall, and had descended
-the great rope which enables one to avoid the battlemented crest above
-the great tower, that we met with adventure. To regain the ridge
-below the tower, a steep ice slope known as the “Linceul” has to be
-crossed. On approaching this slope, we sighted a party of four German
-climbers, who later informed us that they had already spent two hours
-endeavouring to cross. Incapable of cutting steps, they were helpless.
-One, however, possessed of more resolution than his comrades, was
-preparing to set about making a last desperate effort to cross and,
-to assist him in his endeavour, had called upon one of the others
-to hold him on the rope. The latter untied the rope from around his
-waist and held it in his hands as his companion did his utmost to cut
-steps. To us, who came upon the scene at this very minute, the base
-object of the second man in untying himself was only too obvious. He
-feared that, in the event of the first man slipping, he might not be
-able to check the fall, and, tied to the rope, he too might be dragged
-down over the precipice. By unroping and merely grasping the rope in
-his hands, he would, in the event of a slip proving too much of a
-strain on his strength, be able to save himself at the expense of his
-comrade, by simply letting the rope go. The mountains are indeed true
-and stern testers of friendship, loyalty and courage. On seeing us,
-the Germans brightened up. They were profuse in their explanations of
-their difficulties and requests for assistance. Both were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> unnecessary,
-especially the former, for we recognised at once the peculiar type
-of mountain climber with whom we had to deal. They belonged to a
-self-styled group of “guideless” climbers who are singularly deficient
-in mountaineering knowledge and ability and many other qualities
-besides, which it will not be necessary to enumerate. Their kind are
-to be met with everywhere in the Alps. Usually they confine their
-activities to the easiest of climbs and snow trudges, where they can
-follow unthinkingly in the deep-trodden tracks of previous parties.
-Sometimes they venture on expeditions the difficulties of which
-are beyond their powers; and, on such occasions, they take care to
-follow on the heels of some efficient climbing party, be it guided or
-unguided. This is actually what these four men had done. Early that
-morning they had started out to follow a guided party up the Swiss and
-down the Italian ridges of the Matterhorn. As far as the summit, they
-had contrived to keep close behind. The difficulties of the descent,
-however, overtaxed their powers, with the result that the guided party
-soon far outstripped them, and they were left to their own resources.
-Hence the sad predicament in which we found them. It is this special
-breed of “guideless” climber, who is guideless only in that he does not
-himself engage and pay for the services of a guide, that has in the
-past done so much to bring discredit upon guideless climbing proper.
-The man who professes to be a guideless climber should avoid frequented
-routes and has no right to embark upon an undertaking to which he is
-not fully equal, no matter what the circumstances may be.</p>
-
-<p>Fynn sent on my party to cut the necessary steps across the Linceul,
-while he, with the assistance of Max and Obexer, carefully nursed the
-four incompetents over to the safe ground beyond. Soon afterwards we
-passed the ruins of the old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> Italian hut and, descending some steep
-slabs by means of a long fixed rope, arrived at the Italian Club Hut
-at 6.30 p.m. It was filled with climbers intending to make the ascent
-on the next day, and, as the four rescued men were clearly incapable
-of proceeding farther that evening, we had to make up our minds to
-continue the descent, in order that they might find room for the night.
-We carried on past the Col du Lion, down the Grand Staircase—those
-easy, broken rocks south of the Tête du Lion—and gained the meadows
-above Breuil just after nightfall. We boasted only one lantern amongst
-us. Fynn carried it and unravelled the vagaries of a twisting track
-leading down towards the far off, beckoning hôtel lights. At ten
-o’clock, twenty-one hours after leaving the Schönbühl hut, tired but
-happy, we made our way through a throng of inquisitive holiday makers
-to the dining-room of the Jomein, and were soon bringing such hearty
-appetites to bear upon the good food provided that the brows of even
-our worthy host rose high with astonishment.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE DENT D’HÉRENS</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">One</span> of the younger generation of mountain climbers once complained
-bitterly to me that there were no new climbs to be done in the Alps,
-the pioneers having, in his opinion, with extraordinary thoroughness
-and selfish disregard for their posterity, climbed every virgin
-pinnacle and explored all climbable ridges and faces. To his surprise,
-I replied that our thanks were due to the pioneers, for though some
-had no doubt digested much of the grain, the fattest and best grains
-remained for the man of to-day who knew where to look. The good grain
-that is left can no longer be picked up without trouble. We all know
-what faces and ridges of mountains have not been explored, but the
-successful climbing of these must be preceded by careful and patient
-investigation.</p>
-
-<p>In August, 1911, I enjoyed a happy day of perfect laziness on the
-Stockje. My main purpose was to examine the Zmutt ridge, with the
-intention of climbing it on the following day. But ever and again my
-gaze was irresistibly drawn, as if for relief, from the solemn, dark
-magnificence of the Matterhorn to the white purity and graceful curves
-of the hanging glaciers of the north face of the Dent d’Hérens; and
-I found myself seeking in vain to trace the way by which it had been
-climbed. That winter, on searching Alpine literature, I discovered,
-with no little astonishment, that the whole vast north face of the
-mountain, from the Col Tournanche right round to the north-west ridge,
-was every inch of it virgin ground. Here truly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> was a grain fat enough
-to satisfy the greediest appetite, and I made up my mind to secure it.</p>
-
-<p>It was not until 1913 that I had an opportunity of returning to
-the Schönbühl hut. From there I set out on a prospecting trip and,
-traversing the Wandfluh from the foot of the Dent Blanche down to
-the Col d’Hérens, not only succeeded in spying out a feasible way
-of conquering the north face of the Dent d’Hérens, but also gained
-some insight into the geography of the mountain itself. The peak is a
-curiously complicated one, and the errors into which even surveyors,
-especially on the Italian side, have fallen, are well-known. The summit
-is supported by four ridges—the south ridge which leads down to the
-lower Za-de-Zan Glacier, the west ridge to the Tiefenmattenjoch, the
-north-west ridge to the Tiefenmatten Glacier, and the east ridge to
-the Col Tournanche. The west and north-west ridges meet at a point
-less than one hundred feet west of the summit. The north-west ridge,
-when seen from the Schönbühl hut, is easily confused with the west
-ridge, from which it is actually separated by the steep, glaciated
-slopes of the north-west face. The fact that the ice cliffs of this
-face seem to be perched on the north-west ridge has probably given
-rise to the impression that this ridge can no longer be climbed owing
-to the formation thereon of a hanging glacier. In reality the ridge
-is entirely free from such encumbrances. Between the north-west and
-east ridges lies the north face. The watershed ridge between the Val
-Tournanche and the Valpelline does not reach up to the Dent d’Hérens;
-shortly above the Col des Grandes Murailles it loses itself in the
-southern slopes of the east ridge.</p>
-
-<p>From my point of vantage on the Wandfluh, I saw that the north face
-of the Dent d’Hérens carries a huge glacier terrace, or corridor
-which, beginning low down near the foot of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> north-west ridge,
-rises diagonally upwards across the face and reaches the east ridge
-just below the great final <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> east of the summit. It
-was perfectly clear that, could this terrace be gained at its lower
-end and left at its upper, the problem of climbing the face would be
-solved. Despite my conviction that the climb was feasible, however, the
-objective dangers—that is, unavoidable dangers from falling ice and
-stones—appeared so great that for the time being I gave up all idea of
-making the attempt.</p>
-
-<p>During the war a handful of mountain photographs beguiled many a
-weary hour, and among them was one of the Dent d’Hérens as seen from
-the Wandfluh. I studied this picture intently, and finally promised
-myself another look at the mountain as soon as possible after the
-war. In 1919, therefore, the Schönbühl hut became once more my base
-of operations. I again traversed the Wandfluh and later, by climbing
-the Tiefenmattenjoch from the north, was able to inspect more closely
-the possible approaches to the lower end of the great ice corridor.
-Eventually, in order to obtain a more comprehensive view of the upper
-reaches of the corridor, I climbed the Matterhorn. At last, believing
-that nothing else would furnish the required information, accompanied
-by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Hafers, I made the ascent of the north-west ridge. This climb
-showed me that the dangers of the north face were by no means to
-be underrated. The whole terrace gathered up much of the rock that
-crumbled away from the uppermost slopes of the mountain, and the
-approaches to its lower end were not only swept by stones from sunrise
-to sunset, but were also defended by frequent falls of ice. Indeed,
-real safety there appeared to be none until the east ridge had been
-gained at the foot of the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> before mentioned. I
-retired discomfited. But the magnet was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> strong, and, in 1921, having
-meanwhile somewhat modified my views as to what precisely constitutes
-objective dangers, I returned to the Schönbühl hut, whence a series of
-visits to the Pointe de Zinal, the Stockje, and the Tête de Valpelline
-at length convinced me that what, in ordinary circumstances, would be
-a dangerous climb, could, if tackled properly, be converted into a
-safe and justifiable undertaking. The lateness of the season, however,
-prohibited my putting any theories into practice, but plans were
-maturing favourably. By gaining the lowest rocks of the north-west
-ridge, and climbing up either these or the rocks and ice of its north
-flank to the level of the terrace, a short traverse over steep ice
-would give access to the terrace itself. On account of the frequent
-stone-falls which ricochet across the barely emerging rocks of the
-north-west ridge when the sun is shining on the highest slopes of the
-mountain, this part of the climb would have to be completed during a
-cold night, before sunrise. As the ground was obviously difficult, a
-moon would be of advantage. Two-thirds of the way along the terrace, a
-large bergschrund threatened trouble, but, this overcome, there seemed
-to be nothing to prevent one’s gaining the east ridge at the foot of
-the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>. The whole of the route along the terrace
-itself appeared to be swept by falling stones and, in its lower end,
-by falling ice; but, owing to the comparatively gentle angle of the
-terrace, I believed that stones would be held up in the snow. In 1921,
-I also crossed the Col Tournanche and from there received confirmation
-of the fact that no insurmountable obstacle barred the exit from the
-upper end of the terrace to the east ridge.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img35">
-<img src="images/img35.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>An ice avalanche.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The height of the cliff down which the avalanche is falling is over
-two thousand feet.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 196.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Unfortunately, in 1922, being busy elsewhere, I was unable to
-return to the fray, but in 1923 the long-wished-for opportunity
-arrived. Towards the end of July, I set out on a final series of
-investigations, determined that they should lead to the conquest of
-this great north face. My friend, Raymond Peto, and I climbed the Dent
-Blanche, returning by the 1862 original route of Kennedy, leaving the
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarmes</i> above us, while we traversed back along the snow and
-ice-plastered slabs of the south-west face. The ascent was made with
-a twofold object: firstly, to get one more thorough insight into the
-great terrace of the Dent d’Hérens, and, secondly, to give Peto, whose
-maiden climb this was, a chance of finding his mountain legs, it being
-my intention that he should be one of my companions on the new venture.</p>
-
-<p>And here I may be permitted a slight digression. I have more than once
-been criticised for taking inexperienced people on difficult and what
-my critics too readily refer to as hazardous climbs. In reply, I would
-point out that a difficult enterprise is not necessarily a rash one,
-though it may well be made so if one embarks upon it without thorough
-investigation and detailed planning. If, by the simple inclusion of a
-beginner in the party, the difficult be transformed into the hazardous,
-the reflection is on the capabilities of the leader. Also, fifteen
-years of guideless climbing have taught me, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">inter alia</i>, that
-in the mountains one must not take one’s responsibilities lightly.
-Furthermore, the inexperience of the beginner, who is physically sound
-and no coward, is a much less dangerous drawback to the leader of
-a party than the argumentative embryo-mountaineer who, after three
-or even fewer brief summer seasons spent in climbing, often only
-in a secondary capacity, imagines that the mountains hold no more
-secrets for him. To the experienced climber who feels that there is
-still something new for him to learn, I would commend the tyro as a
-companion—for his puzzled, but often fundamental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> questionings may
-suggest a new train of thought or throw fresh light upon what seemed
-but the obvious and commonplace.</p>
-
-<p>To return to our problem. From the Dent Blanche I could see that
-both the bergschrund at the foot of the north-west ridge and the
-one intersecting the snows of the great terrace were of formidable
-proportions and likely to give a great deal of trouble. Next day, by
-going up the Tête Blanche, I was able to get a better idea of the
-ground from the foot of the north-west ridge up to the terrace.</p>
-
-<p>On the strength of the knowledge now possessed, I drew up a provisional
-time-table. At midnight we would leave the Schönbühl hut. Going round
-the Stockje and passing through the two icefalls of the Tiefenmatten
-Glacier, we would reach the bergschrund at the foot of the north-west
-ridge not later than 3 a.m. The bergschrund and the difficult ground
-above, consisting of ice interspersed with rock, would have to be
-tackled in the moonlight, and this would give us time to gain the
-lower end of the terrace about six o’clock, before the sun’s rays had
-become powerful enough to start stones falling. All would then be plain
-sailing until about two-thirds of the way across the terrace, where
-the formidable bergschrund would have to be negotiated. Should this
-obstacle prove impassable, we could return in all haste to near the end
-of the terrace, where, in the shelter of a great ice cliff, it would
-be possible to bivouac. In the earliest hours of the following day,
-the retreat would be completed <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</i> the north-west ridge and the
-summit. Should the bergschrund go, however, there would be nothing to
-prevent our gaining the east ridge.</p>
-
-<p>These studies of the north face of the Dent d’Hérens had entailed in
-all eight visits to the Schönbühl hut of a total duration of nearly
-six weeks. Was it time thrown away, or is not mountaineering worth the
-endeavour to make it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> a justified source of intellectual and physical
-training, invaluable in every phase of one’s daily life?</p>
-
-<p>On returning to Zermatt we were joined by Guy Forster. The functions
-of the various members of the party were easily arranged. Forster and
-I were to act as guides and Peto as porter. On July 29, Peto, bent on
-sketching, set off once more for the Schönbühl hut, and on the 30th,
-Forster and I followed with the necessary provisions, climbing irons,
-a one-hundred-foot Alpine Club rope, and a two-hundred-foot cotton
-sash-line. The latter might prove useful in the event of a forced
-retreat back to the north-west ridge and perhaps also on the terrace.
-At a few minutes past midnight we left the hut, telling the caretaker
-of our intentions. We crossed the glacier to the Stockje in the light
-of a strong moon. Just beyond the ruins of the old Stockje hut, we put
-on climbing irons and roped. The first icefall of the Tiefenmatten
-Glacier was easily overcome near the left bank. But the second, which
-experience had told me was most vulnerable on the extreme right bank,
-gave more trouble. Here, close under the Dent d’Hérens, we were in the
-shadow of the moon and had to make use of our lantern. For perhaps a
-quarter of an hour, while making our way as fast as possible up through
-a series of steep ice gullies and crevasses, we were in danger from the
-séracs perched on the great cliffs above. Once in the upper basin of
-the glacier, we ascended the slopes, bearing to our left round towards
-the foot of the north-west ridge, and eventually arrived on the lower
-lip of the bergschrund which defends the foot of the ridge. The spot
-was strange, forbidding. In the gloom, a hundred feet above us, towered
-the upper lip—inaccessible. In dark, shining patches the rocks of the
-north-west ridge showed through, pitilessly smooth and glazed with a
-thin covering of treacherous ice.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> To cross here was impossible, but,
-by working out into the north-west face and following the bergschrund
-to where it curves upwards almost parallel with the north-west ridge,
-we found a likely place.</p>
-
-<p>The first attempt to get over the bergschrund met with failure. The
-bridge selected afforded, it is true, a means of access to the slopes
-above, but I quickly discovered that it was too delicate a structure
-and preferred to go back to where we could descend a few feet on to
-some snowed-up blocks in the steeply rising schrund, whence we could
-cut up the vertical other side. I gained the upper lip, but the work
-involved was far from easy, and, before its completion, I had to retire
-for a rest while Forster improved my sketchy foot- and handholds.
-It was then that I took stock of the time: it was four o’clock; we
-were an hour too late, and there was nothing for it but to go back.
-On Forster’s return, I recommenced work on the ice steps, converting
-them into great holes which would be certain to hold out until the
-following day. This done, I informed the others of my decision, and,
-without a murmur of dissent on their part, we turned back. Instead of
-going straight down on to the glacier, however, we worked down along
-the lower lip of the bergschrund to some distance beyond the foot of
-the north-west ridge, in an endeavour to find another way across which
-would give more direct access either to the north-west ridge or to the
-slopes leading up to the lower end of the terrace. The search was vain,
-and, just as the first red rays of the morning sun touched the summit
-of the Dent d’Hérens, we fled towards the Tiefenmatten Glacier from the
-stones that were soon falling. No time was lost in hurrying through the
-upper icefall—for here safety lay in speed.</p>
-
-<p>That morning, in time for a belated eight o’clock breakfast,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> three
-dejected climbers arrived back at the Schönbühl hut to a welcoming
-chorus of “We told you so.” The one crumb of comfort was the word
-“Unmöglich,”<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> freely applied by all and sundry to the north face of
-the Dent d’Hérens!</p>
-
-<p>In the afternoon the weather changed for the worse. At 11.30 p.m. we
-looked out to find rain falling heavily; towards morning it actually
-snowed in the vicinity of the hut. It was not until after midday on
-August 1 that a strong north-west wind set in and swept away the
-clouds—all but the gossamer-like streamers which clung tenaciously
-to the Dent d’Hérens and the Matterhorn, and the thick banks of mist
-that sought and found refuge from the gale in the grim recesses of the
-Tiefenmatten basin. Heavy, new snow had fallen on our mountain, and
-great wisps of it were being torn up over the ridges and the slopes of
-the north face and borne away on the wind. But the weather was good;
-and the new snow, though it would undoubtedly impede us in some places,
-would hold loose stones firmly in their beds for long after sunrise and
-thus actually render our climb more safe. That night was the coldest I
-experienced in the course of the wonderful summer of 1923.</p>
-
-<p>At a quarter to midnight, on August 1-2, we left the Schönbühl hut. The
-moon was hidden behind the Matterhorn which was silhouetted against
-its light with almost startling clearness, and it was not until we had
-gained the moraine of the Stockje that we were able to dispense with
-the lantern. Walking rapidly and finding our way through the icefalls
-without hesitation, we arrived in the upper basin of the Tiefenmatten
-Glacier at a point below the north-west ridge, just where the slopes
-steepen up towards the bergschrund. Here, sheltered from the cold wind
-behind a huge block of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> fallen ice, we halted (2.30 to 3 a.m., August
-2) to adjust climbing irons, breakfast and rearrange knapsacks. I had
-the pleasure of handing mine over to Peto. We re-lighted the lantern
-and climbed up to the bergschrund, to find the steps cut two days
-before quite usable. Once over the bergschrund a steep ice slope lay
-between us and the nearest rocks of the north-west ridge, now about
-two hundred yards away. Alpine literature contains many examples of
-that looseness of description which permits the raconteur to describe
-as ice, a slope covered with inches of good firm snow. But here in
-front of us was the real thing. On warm days, water from the ice
-cliffs perched on the rocks above flows down over this slope, not in
-well-defined channels, but fanwise, so as to leave bare ice. What the
-angle of the slope is I cannot say, as I had no clinometer, but where
-we cut across, always keeping about a hundred to a hundred and fifty
-feet above the upper lip of the bergschrund, it was very steep. Higher
-up, the inclination was somewhat more gentle; but for two reasons we
-chose to cross the slope at its steepest—in the first place, fewer
-steps would bring us to the ridge, and in the second, should stray
-stones or odd blocks of ice fall in spite of the early hour and the
-intense cold, there would be much more chance of such missiles going
-over us than if we were standing on the less steep slopes higher
-up. The order of the party was as follows. I led, untrammelled by a
-knapsack, Forster came in the middle, and Peto brought up the rear. How
-Peto would manage was rather uncertain, as this was his first serious
-essay with climbing irons. Forster was to look after both my rope and
-Peto’s, and would, in the event of a slip on the part of the latter,
-have to hold him—a task of which I knew he was fully capable if only
-the steps were well-cut and reasonably large.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p>
-
-<p>Just as we began to cut our way across the slope, a fierce gust of wind
-blew out the candle; and henceforth, though it was still rather dark,
-for the light of the moon did not reach the secluded spot directly, we
-decided to dispense with artificial light. I cut the steps as quickly
-as possible without wastage of blows, but very carefully. Always the
-same method—left-handed cutting, for we were traversing from right
-to left; six or seven medium blows marking out the base, twice as
-many heavy blows to break down the roof of each step, half a dozen
-dragging hits to make floor and wall meet well inside, a scrape or
-two with the blade to make sure that the floor was clean and slanting
-into the slope, and another of the many steps was ready. But while I
-was steadily cutting out my first rope’s length from Forster, he and
-Peto were getting the worst of it in a heated difference of opinion
-with the lantern. Now a lantern which is not burning should be folded
-up and put away. But this particular sample proved stubborn. Peto’s
-struggles to make it behave being unavailing, he very considerately
-passed it on to Forster, by which time I was already straining at the
-rope to cut a next step. Having only two hands, both of which were
-wanted on more important business, Forster thrust the lantern between
-his teeth, came up a few steps, and so gave me sufficient rope to
-proceed. After a further desperate but vain effort to fold the lantern
-up—with the candle still in it!—and handicapped by his limited number
-of hands, he at last solved the difficulty by biting the candle in
-two, and eventually succeeded in stowing away the very refractory and
-useless article in his pocket. From then onwards we really got into
-our stride. I worked away in a perfectly straight, almost horizontal,
-line towards the rocks of the north-west ridge; my comrades moved
-one at a time,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> Peto evidently enjoying the slope in spite of its
-appearance—particularly formidable with darkness surrounding us and
-the ever-increasing drop beneath.</p>
-
-<p>It was very cold, and from time to time the fierce gusts of a fresh
-wind made us pause in our labours and crouch well down on to the slope
-to retain our balance. At a quarter past four, the last step had been
-cut, and the rocks of the north-west ridge gained at a point a little
-above the bergschrund. We immediately crossed over to the north face
-where the rocks were more broken. They were well plastered up with ice
-and snow, but nevertheless we all tucked our axes into the rope at our
-waists and, with both hands free, moved upwards at a good pace. Our
-mode of advance consisted in my going out the full sixty-foot length
-of rope between myself and Forster and finding good standing ground or
-reliable belay; whereupon the other two, moving together with the rope
-taut throughout, would climb up to me. There was much ice on the rocks,
-and everything was buried in fresh snow; but I steadfastly refrained
-from using the axe, utilising hands and fists to clear doubtful places
-and relying as much as possible on the climbing irons. To use the axe
-on this kind of ground before it is absolutely necessary invariably
-results in the loss of valuable time. We kept to the north side of the
-ridge, only twice touching the crest, and, after one and a half hours’
-climbing at full pressure, arrived at a point high up above the lower
-end of the great terrace, where a feasible way of gaining it at last
-appeared. Between the terrace and the rocks of the northern flank of
-the north-west ridge lies an immense gully, at the narrowest point of
-which we now stood. It was extremely steep, as the ice had run and
-formed a sort of bulge. Forster and Peto having stowed themselves
-firmly away on the last little island of rock, I started to cut across
-the gully. After<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> some heavy step-cutting in extraordinarily steep ice,
-I arrived in the middle, only to see, about one hundred feet lower
-down, a better means of gaining the terrace. So I returned and, joining
-the others, descended these hundred feet and once more set out to cross
-the gully. It was not very wide, being only some eighty feet from the
-last of the rocks to the terrace itself, but the work was certainly
-hard. After about twenty minutes’ step-cutting, I found myself standing
-in the bergschrund formed by the terrace and the ice slopes above, and
-there Forster and Peto soon joined me.</p>
-
-<p>By following the lower lip of the bergschrund for a short distance,
-and leaving it at a point where it curved abruptly upwards, it would
-have been possible to make a horizontal traverse of about three
-hundred feet across a steep snow slope to where the terrace was more
-gently inclined. Unfortunately, owing to the state of the snow, such
-tactics could not be indulged in. The slope was heavily covered with
-an accumulation of new snow, much of which had fallen down from the
-steeper slopes above. The old snow underneath had a smooth surface and
-was hard-frozen, and the fresh snow was of that powdery, non-cohesive
-quality which already possessed the thin, dangerous, wind-formed crust
-so respected by the winter mountaineer. To traverse such a slope
-would be simply asking for trouble: there was almost certain danger
-of treading loose a snow-shield and being swept down by it across
-the terrace and over the cliffs below. The only alternative lay in
-descending for a distance of about two hundred feet and then crossing
-the slope at its very foot, where it was no longer steep, hard up
-against the lower edge of the corridor where it breaks away in the vast
-ice cliffs overhanging the Tiefenmatten Glacier. It was here that our
-spare rope proved most valuable. We cut out a large block of snow in
-the lower<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> lip of the bergschrund and laid our doubled spare rope over
-the improvised belay. With Peto going first, we then went straight
-down the dangerous slope towards another suitable belay lying about a
-hundred feet below and consisting of a large stone which had fallen
-from the Dent d’Hérens and was now firmly embedded in the old snow.
-By means of this second belay we descended another hundred feet and
-then arrived at the very foot of the slope, where its angle eased off
-so rapidly that, in spite of the great masses of powdery snow, it was
-at last possible to cross, in safety and without fear of loosening a
-snow-shield, over to the great terrace.</p>
-
-<p>The angle of the ground where we now found ourselves was
-gentle—sometimes no more than 20°; but, under the threat of ice
-falling from the hanging glacier above, Forster and I urged Peto, who
-still led, to move forward with all haste until clear of the danger
-zone. At one place our way passed through an extensive field of
-ice-blocks—débris from the cliffs above. That practically the whole
-of this particular fall of ice had been arrested on the terrace will
-indicate how easy is the gradient at this point. 7.30 a.m. saw us more
-than half-way along the terrace at a point where it appears almost
-level. We were more or less directly below the summit. Close to the
-edge of the ice cliff in which the terrace breaks away, we were at last
-in perfect safety. Nothing falling from above could reach us now; for
-the gentle slopes of the terrace between us and the final wall of the
-mountain provided an efficient trap for all stones tumbling down from
-the summit rocks.</p>
-
-<p>It was with a sense of complete security that we sat down to another
-breakfast and to enjoy a well-earned rest; for, since crossing the
-bergschrund four and a half hours ago, we had been working at high
-pressure. The spot must be one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> of the wildest and most solitary in
-the Alps; behind us a rampart of precipitous cliffs, before us at our
-feet a few yards of gently sloping snow, then nothing until the eye
-rested on the Stockje, a mile and a half distant and nearly three
-thousand feet below. Several parties were toiling up the Tête Blanche,
-but halted upon hearing our exuberant yells of delight as we settled
-down to our meal. It was cold; the wind was still strong and blowing
-snow dust about, and, though all wore extra clothing and wind-proof
-overalls, we were by no means overburdened with warmth.</p>
-
-<p>Shortly after eight o’clock we again set off. The slopes of the
-terrace now steepened up rapidly, and soon we were once more cutting
-steps—this time in good hard snow—up to the bergschrund separating
-us from the upper end of the terrace. Just before gaining the lower
-lip, we heard the rattle of falling stones, and a generous avalanche
-from the gully between the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> on the east ridge
-and the summit crashed down straight towards us. During one of my
-reconnaissance trips, I had watched, through a telescope, stones
-falling down this gully and had observed that they were all caught
-by the lower lip of the schrund. Indeed, it was precisely this fact
-that had led me to the conclusion that the lower lip must protrude
-very much beyond the upper which would, therefore, form a serious
-barrier in our path. On this occasion, again, every stone of the
-avalanche was swallowed up by the bergschrund, without the slightest
-danger to us. As soon as all was quiet we resumed work and, on gaining
-the lower lip, moved down along it to the left, where it approached
-more under the upper lip. The obstacle we now faced was assuredly a
-difficult one. It appeared to me that the upper lip could be attacked,
-with fair prospects of success, at its lowest part by cutting steps
-up about twelve feet of very steep ice and then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> drilling one’s way
-through a cornice formed of hard-frozen snow, some three feet thick,
-extending from the edge of the upper lip. An alternative way lay in
-making a difficult traverse still farther to the left across the ice
-face leading to a fault or notch in the cornice, affording access to
-the slopes above. At first I chose the former way. Forster anchored
-himself well and, holding both my rope and Peto’s, let us across
-the débris-choked floor of the bergschrund to the foot of the steep
-pitch. I was soon cutting my way up this, while Peto held me steady
-so as to avoid the necessity of making handholds. Now out of arm’s
-reach, but jammed against the ice by his axe, I began to drill through
-the cornice. I succeeded in driving my axe through into daylight,
-but only after a great effort, and was forced to return for a rest.
-Forster then followed up in my steps, but, not liking the idea of
-laboriously enlarging the hole in the cornice, returned to investigate
-the possibilities of the alternative traverse to the left. For some
-distance, Peto was able to support him with his axe, but for the last
-ten or twelve feet Forster had to cut with his left hand, relying on
-his right to help him retain his balance. By a brilliant piece of
-ice work, he wormed his way through the fault in the cornice out on
-to the slopes above. As soon as he had obtained good standing ground
-and driven his axe to the head into the snow, I followed quickly, and
-together we gave Peto the necessary aid to enable him to join us.</p>
-
-<p>Once more I took the lead. We were now aiming straight for the
-eastern extremity of the level section of ridge lying immediately to
-the east of the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>. Everywhere the ground was so
-steep that steps had to be cut, but four or five blows with the axe
-were always sufficient, as the snow was hard and of good quality. To
-gain the foot of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> over the slopes directly above
-us was out of the question on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> account of the impassability of an
-intervening bergschrund. Farther to the east, however, this schrund
-was well-bridged, and we crossed without difficulty. Here the snow
-changed. It was still good, but no longer so hard. Roped on to our
-two-hundred-foot length of sash-line, Forster now took the lead and
-kicked his way right up on to the ridge, while Peto and I enjoyed a
-welcome, if brief, respite from our activities. At eleven o’clock
-we were all sitting together on a great flat slab on the east ridge
-overlooking the Val Tournanche, protected from the wind and revelling
-in the warm sunshine. We had won. From here to the top was merely
-a question of time and patience. The great north face of the Dent
-d’Hérens, which had so long been spoken of as “unmöglich,” had this day
-at last suffered defeat, and many were the shouts of triumph hurled
-down at its hitherto hidden recesses. In the simple amusements so dear
-to the mountaineer, a whole hour was spent at this delightful spot.
-We ate, sunned ourselves, and drank in the beauties of the marvellous
-view. I will not expatiate thereon, but will content myself with paying
-tribute to the Matterhorn which, seen as we saw it that morning, must
-surely be the most strikingly wonderful mountain in the world.</p>
-
-<p>At noon, having discarded our climbing irons, we again roped, Forster
-leading, I coming as second man, and Peto, as before, bringing up the
-rear. Making our way up a steep snow ridge, followed by a vertical
-chimney—which, thanks to liberal handholds, was not difficult, though
-somewhat strenuous—we had soon covered the distance of about eighty
-feet that had separated us from the east end of the horizontal stretch
-of ridge, and now overlooked the uppermost snows of the Za-de-Zan
-Glacier, from which we were divided by less than two hundred feet of
-easy scree slopes. Early in the day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> we had noticed the formation of
-fish clouds, and from here saw that Mont Blanc was “smoking a pipe.”
-The weather was obviously breaking; but, provided no time was wasted,
-we counted on its holding out long enough to enable us to finish the
-ascent. The horizontal stretch of ridge, despite the fresh snow that
-was lying about, gave no serious trouble, and soon we were at the foot
-of the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>. It was plain that the latter, even in
-the best of circumstances, would prove a stubborn customer if tackled
-directly over the ridge. For the sake of economising time, therefore,
-we moved out on to the south side, and for more than two hours were
-kept fully occupied on slabby rocks, where the handholds tended to
-slope downwards. Had the ground been dry, the climbing would probably
-have been fairly easy; but to-day ice and new snow were everywhere.
-Forster, free from the burden of his knapsack, which now graced my
-shoulders, was in his element. Our pace was not rapid, because the
-conditions rendered it advisable to move only one at a time, and the
-rock, apart from being glazed with ice, was so unreliable that great
-care was necessary. At last, shortly before drawing level with the
-summit of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i>, a scramble up some particularly nasty
-slabs brought us on to a buttress of blocks where we were able to climb
-together. Forster dashed away in great style. We regained the ridge at
-the lowest point in the slight depression that lies between the summit
-of the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> and that of the mountain itself. From
-there the climb along the final ridge was pure joy. Nowhere did we meet
-with the least difficulty. The rock was extremely good and wind-swept
-free from snow. The ridge was very narrow—in places even sensational.
-Sometimes it hung over to one side, sometimes to the other, and once
-it actually assumed a mushroom-like appearance and overhung on both.
-Our pace was furious, and Forster’s exclamations of delight at the
-splendid climbing quite invigorating.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img36">
-<img src="images/img36.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The north face of the Dent d’Hérens, showing route
-followed.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img37">
-<img src="images/img37.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Back at the Schönbühl hut after the climb.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 210.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>At 3.15 p.m., fifteen and a half hours after leaving the Schönbühl hut,
-we passed over the little snow-crest which forms the summit of the
-Dent d’Hérens. We did not halt; the weather was too menacing, and it
-behoved us to get off the mountain as quickly as possible. Just beyond
-the summit, we again altered the order of the rope—Forster retained
-the lead, Peto came next, and I brought up the rear. After a short,
-easy climb down the steep but firm rocks of the little summit cliff
-overlooking the north-west face, we struck a well-trodden track in the
-scree slopes, and passing down these and two ice slopes—the first
-a short one, the second long enough to induce us to put on climbing
-irons—we reached a point on the west ridge whence a convenient descent
-could be made over broken rocks towards the Za-de-Zan Glacier. With
-the exception of one chimney, which might well have been avoided, all
-was easy going until, at the foot of the rocks, we had to descend a
-little ice slope and cross the bergschrund below it. The deep snow
-covering the ice slope was in a parlous condition, and Forster had to
-cut well into the ice beneath in order to obtain secure footing. As
-luck would have it, we chanced to strike the best place to cross the
-bergschrund; for the misty haze now obscuring the sun also hid detail
-to such an extent that, until we were actually on the bergschrund, it
-was at times hard even to detect its presence. The usual sort of little
-zig-zag manœuvre by means of which the weak points in the bergschrund’s
-defences were connected up, saw us safely over on to the soft snow
-slopes below. We had no difficulty in getting through the first small
-icefall to the Za-de-Zan Glacier, though at one place we had to descend
-into a crevasse and make our way up the other side in order to effect a
-crossing.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p>
-
-<p>Passing close under the Tiefenmattenjoch, a long tramp in soft, wet
-snow brought us to the edge of the lower icefall. Having been through
-this fall in 1919, I now went ahead. But, failing to keep sufficiently
-far to the left, I did not succeed in finding the quickest way through,
-with the result that, to escape from its clutches, we finally had to
-resort to the spare rope to descend a bergschrund which must have been
-nearly fifty feet high. From there onwards all was plain sailing. A
-glissade and a gentle walk over the nearly level basin of the glacier
-led to the top of the moraine, whence, free from the sodden rope,
-we plunged down towards the corner of the west ridge of the Tête de
-Valpelline, at the foot of which stands the Cabane d’Aosta. The ten
-minutes’ uphill walk to the hut was, for three weary mountaineers, as
-hard a pitch as any they had tackled that day. The hut was none too
-tidy, but we had food and, some kindly climbers having provided us
-with sufficient wood, we were able to cook quite a passable meal. The
-weather did not actually break that evening, but the whole sky was
-filled with dense masses of cloud driven up by the south wind, and we
-went to sleep expecting to have a lively time in crossing the Col de
-Valpelline on the following day.</p>
-
-<p>Next morning we were under way at 6 a.m., and in less than three hours
-had gained the Col de Valpelline. The sky was completely overcast,
-and all major summits were hidden in cloud, but we suffered no
-inconvenience from mist and, in under four and a half hours after
-leaving the Cabane d’Aosta, were receiving the warm congratulations of
-the Schönbühl hut caretaker, who had watched our ascent through his
-telescope with such assiduity that he had strained his right eye and
-was now in a state of perpetual wink!</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> “Impossible.”</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br />
-<span class="vsmall">MONT BLANC</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Mont Blanc</span>, 15,781 feet in height, the highest mountain in Europe, was
-almost the first of the great Alpine peaks to be climbed. On August
-8, 1786, two Chamoniards, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Paccard and Jacques Balmat, starting
-from Chamonix, made the first ascent. Forty-six years later Balmat was
-interviewed by Alexandre Dumas, who shortly afterwards incorporated
-the Chamoniard’s tale of the conquest of the great mountain in his
-<i>Impressions de Voyage</i>. And so the name of Jacques Balmat has
-come down to fame. To-day Chamonix boasts of two statues to his
-memory; while <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Paccard is almost forgotten. Yet recent, patient
-investigation tends to show with a fair degree of certainty that the
-leading spirit, the driving force throughout the wonderful adventure,
-was not Balmat, but <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Paccard.</p>
-
-<p>As the years passed by it became almost fashionable to climb Mont
-Blanc; and to-day the many who make the ascent for the mere sake of
-saying that they have stood on the crown of Europe, still follow the
-route of the original discoverers in most of its essential details,
-except where, in one or two cases, deviations have resulted in
-considerable improvement. The ascent of the mountain from Chamonix by
-the well-established route is nothing more than a long, uphill walk; a
-good, sound walker could go to the summit with his hands in his trouser
-pockets, should he feel so disposed. But since Paccard’s day many other
-routes have been discovered; and on all of these climbing is, at one
-stage or another, necessary.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> Indeed, some of these routes involve
-expeditions which rank amongst the most formidable that have ever been
-undertaken in the Alps, or, indeed, in any other mountain range.</p>
-
-<p>The frontier between Italy and France crosses the summit of Mont Blanc.
-From the Col de Miage over to the Col du Géant, a distance of eight
-miles, the frontier follows the watershed ridge without once falling
-below an elevation of 11,000 feet above sea-level; and two routes,
-following more or less this frontier, lead to the summit of Mont Blanc.
-From the point of view of mountaineering difficulty, neither of these
-can be compared with any of the tremendous routes by which Mont Blanc
-may be climbed from the south. Nevertheless, both are sufficiently
-difficult to safeguard one against monotony, and the scenery on both
-is superlatively wonderful. For these two reasons, Max and I chose to
-make our acquaintance with Mont Blanc by these frontier or border-line
-routes. We planned to go from Courmayeur to the Col de Miage and pass
-the night there in the little Refuge Durier. On the following day
-we would climb along the border-line, passing over the Aiguille de
-Bionnassay and the Dôme de Goûter, and spend the second night in the
-Vallot Refuge (14,350 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) within an hour and a half of the summit.
-Next morning we would pass over Mont Blanc and Mont Maudit, whence,
-deviating from the border-line, we would visit Mont Blanc de Tacul,
-and finally make our way across the Géant Glacier to the Col du Géant.
-Three days would elapse between our departure from Courmayeur and
-our arrival at the Rifugio Torino on the Col du Géant; but, lest bad
-weather should delay the carrying out of our projects, we bought in
-provisions for five, or at a pinch six, days. Thus our knapsacks, which
-contained in addition to the food, a cooking apparatus, camera and
-large supply of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> films, climbing irons and two one-hundred-foot ropes,
-were far from light.</p>
-
-<p>From Courmayeur the first three hours of the journey to the Col de
-Miage lead one along the carriage road and mule track which winds
-through the Val Veni round the southern foot of Mont Blanc. As mules
-are readily obtainable in Courmayeur, Max and I strolled forth
-unburdened from the village after an early lunch on August 25, 1911.
-Leaving knapsack, coats and axes to a mule-driver and his faithful
-animal, we marched gaily along the broad path with the tremendous
-cliffs and fantastic, jagged outline of the Peuteret ridge towering up
-before us, luxuriating in the freedom of shirt sleeves and the even
-more unwonted freedom of unladen shoulders, and revelling in the happy
-lot of the mountaineer. Dawdling, however, we were not permitted to
-indulge in; for the mule, like others of his species in Courmayeur,
-seemed eager to get to his journey’s end with all possible speed, and
-it was only by the simple stratagem of inviting his driver to drink a
-glass of wine at the little Cantine de la Visaille that we succeeded in
-snatching a rest.</p>
-
-<p>Farther on, where the immense, frontal moraine of the Miage Glacier
-advances into and, indeed, almost across the bed of the valley, the
-path steepens up; but though the mule walked as fast as ever, we
-kept pace in comfort, for the sky was rapidly becoming overcast, and
-an invigorating coolness had taken the place of the hitherto close
-and oppressive heat. Passing by the little Combal lake formed by the
-moraine damming the stream, its black, sunless waters whipped into a
-semblance of life by fitful gusts, we turned off to the right along a
-dwindling track. Here we dismissed the mule and his driver and, after
-collecting firewood for use in the hut, settled down to a meal to gain
-strength for the long walk in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> front of us. At 4 p.m., a few heavy
-drops of rain from the lowering sky stirred us up, and, shouldering our
-cruelly heavy and distinctly awkward burdens, we climbed up the steep
-flank of the moraine and gained the gently-rising, stone-strewn surface
-of the Miage Glacier.</p>
-
-<p>White wraiths of mist, sinking from the black thunder-clouds that
-overcast the sky, settled over the tops of the magnificent mountain
-walls which enclose the glacier. Our loads were oppressive, and, though
-we struggled with them to the best of our powers, our pace was slow and
-rests were frequent. At twilight, even the foot of the slopes below
-the Col de Miage were still far distant, and dense masses of cloud
-were rolling down across the col towards us. Realising what a drag our
-knapsacks were, we decided to change our plans and make for the Dôme
-instead of the Miage hut. We knew that darkness would be upon us long
-before the former were gained, but, in spite of that, we felt certain
-of being able to find it. After passing below the icefall of the Dôme
-Glacier, we turned to the right towards the foot of the Aiguilles
-Grises ridge. An inky blackness had already blotted out all surrounding
-details before the rocks were reached; but, on lighting the lantern, we
-were delighted to find a well-marked track leading up in the desired
-direction over steep screes. We were now really tired, and halts to
-relieve our shoulders from the depressing weight of the knapsacks were
-frequent. During such enforced respites from our labours we consulted
-the map and were able to form a fairly good idea as to where to look
-for the hut. At ten o’clock, just before the thunderstorm burst, we
-found it at last, though not without some searching.</p>
-
-<p>Though tired, we were ravenously hungry, and had energy enough to
-prepare a good, square meal. Through the little window we saw frequent
-lightning flashes, and the sharp crack<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> that followed within a fraction
-of a second of each flare told us that we were very near the centre
-of the storm. After dinner we ventured without to see what were the
-prospects for the morrow. Snow was falling, and the atmosphere was
-charged with electricity. Holding up my hand and spreading out the
-fingers resulted in a curious noise as of the tearing of linen, and,
-in the darkness, from each finger-tip issued a blue stream of light.
-The chimney pipe of the little hut stove was thrown into relief by an
-aureole of bluish light, especially intense at the top. It was evident
-that the storm had come to stay for the night at least, and that, with
-snow falling at its present rate, there was little chance of being able
-to continue the climb next morning. I must confess that the prospect of
-a day’s rest was anything but displeasing.</p>
-
-<p>The sun was high in the heavens when we awoke on the morning of the
-26th. The weather was perfect. All signs of the storm had been swept
-away, except for the abundance of new snow which, on the rocks round
-the hut, was already yielding to the warm rays. Mont Blanc, a mountain
-of quite different aspect on this southern side, is built up of great
-rock buttresses, separated from each other by steep and narrow glaciers
-which frequently break into formidable icefalls. Our original plan
-of following the border-line from the Col de Miage we had naturally
-set aside, but from the scenic point of view we did not expect the
-route now proposed, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</i> the Aiguilles Grises to the Col de
-Bionnassay and thence along the border-line, to be one whit inferior.
-The afternoon and evening of that welcome rest day were mostly spent in
-consuming our supplies of firewood and demolishing all the weightier
-articles of food. In those days Max and I were unduly addicted to the
-delights of tinned peaches!</p>
-
-<p>By three o’clock next morning we had breakfasted and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> were preparing to
-leave the hut. Wearing climbing irons and roped together, we crossed
-over a snow slope and gained the Dôme Glacier. As our destination that
-day was the Vallot Refuge, only some three thousand feet higher up,
-there was no call for hurry. This was a blessing, for, though we had
-done our best to cut down the weight, the knapsacks were still much
-heavier than one is wont to carry on a long climb of this nature.
-Early in the year the ascent of the Dôme Glacier is usually devoid of
-difficulty; but towards the end of the climbing season one’s progress
-is likely to be somewhat hampered by huge and inadequately bridged
-crevasses. In 1911, however, despite the fact that the summer had
-been so hot and fine, we nowhere met with serious obstacles, though
-occasionally a more than ordinarily large crevasse demanded a little
-thought and care before it could be successfully negotiated. At sunrise
-we had gained the uppermost basin of the Dôme Glacier, and, turning
-round to the left, we cut steps up a steep ice slope, eventually
-climbing the rocks of the Aiguilles Grises ridge to the south of the
-highest point on the ridge. The rock was good, and we topped the
-highest Aiguille at 7 a.m. The day was wonderfully clear and free from
-haze, so that we could look right out into the lowlands of Savoy. The
-Aiguilles de Trélatête, which rank amongst the most beautiful mountains
-in the Alps, stood boldly up to the south. A north breeze, bringer of
-settled weather, blew with somewhat chilly force and hunted us forth.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img38">
-<img src="images/img38.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Mont Blanc from the Dôme hut.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... great rock buttresses separated by steep glaciers.”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 218.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>From the Aiguilles Grises we walked in comfort along a broad, almost
-level snow ridge, which later became more narrow and inclined until,
-just before reaching the point where it meets the border-line ridge,
-it was so steep that the use of the axe was necessary. Once on the
-border-line, a wonderful vista down into the Bionnassay Valley
-opened out. The ridge was narrow and often corniced, but free from
-difficulty. Soon it steepened and broadened out and wore a thick
-covering of fresh snow through which we toiled knee-deep. To the right
-of the ridge the snow was in bad condition, and any attempt to stamp
-out steps started avalanches which slid with hissing sound down to the
-Dôme Glacier below. Therefore, we kept either to the left of the ridge
-or on the crest itself, where progress was simple, if laborious and
-thirsty. The loss of moisture by profuse perspiration, however, was
-readily compensated for by eating snow—an excellent means of assuaging
-thirst. At length the ridge was transformed into a great plateau, over
-which we gained the summit of the Dôme de Goûter and looked down into
-the Chamonix Valley. In accordance with our usual custom, we fed, and
-then, spreading out our belongings in a wind-sheltered spot on the
-snow, lay down on them and went to sleep in the warm sun.</p>
-
-<p>At midday we packed up and descended a gentle snow slope to the Col de
-Goûter, where the well-trodden track of the ordinary Chamonix route
-was joined. A little later we arrived at the Vallot Refuge. The Vallot
-Refuge stands at an altitude of about 14,350 feet above sea-level on a
-tiny island of rock cropping out from a vast surrounding wilderness of
-ice and snow. It consists of a little wooden hut divided into the two
-compartments that fulfil the simple requirements of the mountaineer,
-namely a “kitchen” and a “bedroom.” It was in a bad state of repair;
-the wind whistled through numerous cracks in walls and roof; and the
-door was too damaged to permit of its being closed, so that quantities
-of snow had drifted within and the floor was deeply covered with ice.
-The stove was degenerate and useless; the blankets were full of ice
-and fouled with the filth and offal that likewise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> covered the floor
-and formed the contents of the only saucepan which the hut boasted. It
-was altogether a disgusting state of affairs, and, as we were to pass
-the night here, Max and I set about making our quarters habitable.
-Blankets were thoroughly shaken and spread out in the sun and wind.
-With our axes, the snow and refuse was scraped out and the ice chipped
-away from the floor. Some of the worst cracks and holes in the wall we
-stopped with snow. Two hours’ hard work wrought some slight change, and
-the hut looked tidier and more wholesome. Since then, I have been, in
-all, five times at the Vallot Refuge. On each occasion it bore a closer
-resemblance to a pigsty than a place designed for human habitation.
-There is, as far as I can see, no excuse for this. Climbers using
-the refuge should have no difficulty in leaving it in a presentable
-condition. As it is, its usual loathsome state bears eloquent testimony
-to the all-round inferiority of many of those who climb Mont Blanc from
-Chamonix. To leave mountain huts and refuges clean and tidy is the
-duty of all guides; but the onus of seeing that this duty is properly
-performed rests with their employers. The ultra-fashionable world that
-nowadays throngs Chamonix and “climbs” Mont Blanc simply because it is
-“done” apparently leaves all sense of duty and propriety far below the
-snow-line.</p>
-
-<p>It was past 3 p.m. before we were satisfied with the result of our
-labours, and from then until sunset a succession of meals—lunch, tea
-and dinner—was prepared on our little spirit cooker. All water had, of
-course, to be obtained by melting snow; but this had been anticipated,
-and our supplies of methylated spirit were ample. The breeze dropped as
-the afternoon wore on, and at times we felt almost hot as we sat in the
-sun in front of the refuge.</p>
-
-<p>Bedtime came with the sharp night chill that follows the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> setting of
-the sun. There were plenty of blankets, now dry and comparatively
-clean, to keep us warm, and we slept well; only occasionally awakening
-at the sound of the wind as it whistled through the chinks and shrieked
-past the walls of the refuge. Next morning, at 5 a.m., we started to
-dress, that is, to put on our boots. This took some time as the uppers
-were frozen stiff and had to be nursed against our chests until they
-were sufficiently pliable. Breakfast was not a success, at least in
-so far as cooking operations were concerned. During the night, snow
-dust had been blown into the spirit-burner which, inside the draughty
-hut, had no chance to burn itself dry. In the end we made shift with
-raw bacon fat, bread and jam, and munched snow in lieu of drinking
-coffee or tea. At 6.30, having folded up the blankets and cleared up
-generally, we put on the rope and climbing irons and moved off.</p>
-
-<p>A deep-trodden track in the snow, the trail of fashion, led up easy
-slopes on to the crest of the border-line ridge. Always keeping to the
-ridge and walking at a good, steady pace, we continued our uneventful
-journey. No miseries of mountain sickness such as so often attacked
-the early climbers of Mont Blanc, and to which many still seem to
-succumb, disturbed the monotony; no blood gushed forth from our ears,
-nor did we even suffer from lack of breath. Before 8 a.m. we stood
-on the summit (15,781 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). The little refuge erected here a year
-or two previously was all but buried beneath the snow; part of the
-roof and a chimney alone remained visible.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The day was perfect,
-cloudless and exceptionally clear. There is, amongst its neighbouring
-mountains, none to challenge the superiority of Mont Blanc.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> From its
-summit one looks down upon Europe, hill and plain. The sea of ice-clad
-peaks surrounding it are so much lower or so far off that they appear
-immeasurably below one. Whilst engaging in the delightful pastime of
-recognising old mountain friends in the distant ranges, we brought
-the spirit cooker into action and prepared a belated brew of tea. The
-match with which we lighted our cigarettes needed no shielding, and
-its faint blue smoke drifted lazily skywards, so still was the air as
-we sat and basked in the warm morning sunshine. Such was our first
-kindly reception by Mont Blanc. Since then I have stood four times on
-the summit; twice surrounded by cold, clammy mists, once chilled to the
-marrow by a fierce north-west wind, and once to be driven down fighting
-for foothold in the teeth of a snowstorm such as is seldom experienced
-in the Alps.</p>
-
-<p>Our stay on the summit lasted but an hour, for the major portion of
-the day’s work, namely the descent <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</i> Mont Maudit and Mont
-Blanc de Tacul, lay in front of us. With France on our left and the
-great precipices of the Brenva falling away to Italy on the right, we
-descended the hard-frozen snow of the broad ridge. Passing a little
-outcrop of rock, now plastered up with wind-driven snow, we arrived at
-the top of a rather steep ice slope—the Mur de la Côte. One of the
-worst accidents in the history of mountaineering occurred not far from
-here in September, 1870. Eleven people were caught by a snowstorm.
-Instead of fighting their way out of its clutches, they sat down to
-wait until it passed. All were frozen to death. In a snowstorm on the
-mountains, as in war, safety lies in action. It is far better to do
-something, even if it be the wrong thing, than do nothing but sit and
-wait.</p>
-
-<p>With our sharp, long-pointed climbing irons, the Mur de la Côte was
-descended without the cutting of more than a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> few steps. Below it, easy
-snow slopes led down to the Col de la Brenva, the broad depression
-between Mont Blanc and Mont Maudit. Beyond this, a succession of
-trackless snow fields and slopes, sometimes almost level, at other
-times fairly steep but never steep enough to demand the use of the
-axe, provided such easy going that we were able to devote much of our
-attention to the beauty of the surroundings. A pathway fit for the
-gods, this wonderful border-line ridge whence the eye may travel beyond
-the snow-free mountains of Savoy to the rolling blue hills of the
-Jura, or up the tremendous ramparts of the Brenva face and along the
-magnificent sweep of the Peuteret ridge to the heavily corniced summit
-of Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. We paid but a brief visit to Mont Maudit
-(14,669 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), a little rock pinnacle just emerging from the snow; and,
-after a glance over the great precipices above the Brenva Glacier, we
-turned down the snowy ridge which falls away to Chamonix, to seek a
-means of descent into the depression between Mont Maudit and Mont Blanc
-de Tacul. At first the ridge was a slender snowy crest on which the
-snow was in splendid condition, but later the rocks emerged. As these
-were good and never difficult, we were once again, while climbing, able
-to devote much of our attention to the view. Mont Blanc showed up to
-wonderful advantage, an enormous snowy dome, the brilliance of its wide
-flanks almost entirely unrelieved by the darkness of rock. Far below
-lay the valley of Chamonix, its detail filtered softly through the
-grey-blue haze of a fine summer’s day. Beyond the Buet and the lesser
-mountains of Savoy, the gaze roved over a purple mistiness shrouding
-the Lake of Geneva, to the sombre wooded curves of the Jura. On our
-right were the tapering spires of the Chamonix Aiguilles and the wider
-snows of Mont Blanc de Tacul, our next objective.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p>
-
-<p>After descending the ridge for some considerable length, a fairly
-broad, snowy saddle, the Col Maudit, was reached. To the right a
-rather steep, but to all appearances short, ice slope fell away
-towards crevassed snow slopes, down which we felt sure of finding a
-convenient way. After once more donning climbing irons—for they had
-been taken off on gaining the summit of Mont Maudit—Max took charge
-of my knapsack, while I set to work to cut the necessary steps down
-the slope. The ice rapidly steepened but merged into snow, too hard
-to kick steps in, but ready to yield a secure step for two, or at the
-most three, blows of the axe. Noticing that the slope did not run out
-directly into the snowfields below, we suspected the presence of an
-intervening bergschrund of more than ordinary proportions. Our surmise
-proved only too true. Within a quarter of an hour of leaving the Col
-Maudit, we foregathered in a large step hewn out just above the upper
-lip of a great bergschrund which gaped to right and left with never a
-sign of a snow bridge within reach. The lower lip was at least fifteen
-feet below where we stood, but as the schrund seemed to be at its
-narrowest here, it was obviously the most suitable place to effect a
-passage. Three ways of doing this suggested themselves: to jump down
-the fifteen feet, to cut out a belay in the snow and rope down, or to
-use one of our axes as a belay. On reconsideration, the second and
-third courses were discarded; the one because it was getting late in
-the day and the time necessary to hew out a suitable belay would be
-considerable; the other because it would mean the sacrifice of an axe.
-So we decided to jump. Leaving my axe and climbing irons with Max, I
-screwed up my courage and leapt wildly out into space, to strike with
-my feet into the deep, soft snow below the bergschrund with such force
-that I was almost submerged, and snow found its way into my clothing
-in a most disconcerting fashion. Then came Max’s turn. He first threw
-down the axes, climbing irons and other paraphernalia. Then, while
-I trained the camera on him, he jumped and landed with such a thud
-that he likewise was almost buried in the powdery snow. After a rest
-and a meal to soothe shattered nerves, we gathered up our belongings
-and commenced stamping down towards Mont Blanc de Tacul. Crevasses
-and ice cliffs enforced a zig-zag course and deep snow made the work
-toilsome, but we forged steadily ahead, leaving a deeply-furrowed trail
-in our wake. Passing beyond the depression between Mont Maudit and our
-objective, we finally mounted up gentle snow slopes and a few simple
-rocks to the summit of Mont Blanc de Tacul (13,941 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), and thus
-gained our third mountain-top for the day. The view from here was one
-of the most striking of the marvellous series of changing panoramas
-which marked this trip. The great rocky buttresses and escarpments of
-the precipitous south face of Mont Maudit, seamed with appallingly
-steep ice-filled gullies, the shimmering ice cliffs of the Brenva face
-of Mont Blanc, and the bold yet almost unearthly graceful outline of
-the Peuteret ridge formed a peerless picture of nobility and majesty.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img224a">
-<img src="images/img224a.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Descending Mont Maudit.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“... a slender snowy crest.”</p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img224b">
-<img src="images/img224b.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center small caption"><i>Aiguille Noire de Peuteret.<br />
-Dames Anglaise.<br />
-Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret.<br />
-Col de Peuteret.<br />
-Mont Blanc de Courmayeur.<br />
-Mont Blanc.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Peuteret ridge from the Col du Géant.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 224.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-
-<p>It was two o’clock. To judge from what could be seen of the snow
-slopes leading down to the Col du Midi, where we intended to spend the
-night, no serious difficulty appeared to be in store for us. We had,
-therefore, time to spare; so, while the spirit cooker did its work,
-we dozed and sunned ourselves on the sun-warmed rocks of the summit.
-At 4 p.m., though loth to leave, we packed up and tramped off in the
-direction of the Aiguille du Midi. The slopes became steeper and were
-covered with great quantities of fresh snow. Here and there a crevasse
-or minor bergschrund had to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> negotiated, but all went well. We had
-descended a considerable distance, and could already overlook the
-greater part of the easy, almost uncrevassed slopes leading into the
-Col du Midi, when an immense bergschrund pulled us up short. The upper
-lip was fully fifty feet above the lower. Tracks leading up to, and
-then retreating from, the lower lip were visible. A party of climbers
-had evidently quite recently sallied forth from the Col du Midi to
-climb Mont Blanc, but had been repelled by the formidable obstacle
-which was now causing us no little concern. A search to the left
-revealed nothing of value. To work out to the right would entail much,
-and perhaps purposeless, step-cutting. So, without more ado, we hewed
-out a huge step as close to the upper lip of the schrund as possible,
-cleared away the snow from a suitable spot, and worked away at the
-ice underneath until a great projecting block had been formed. Over
-this improvised belay we laid the middle of the only spare rope, and
-shinned down it. With this the last of the difficulties was overcome.
-We plunged knee-deep down gently inclined slopes, whose snows, almost
-unbroken by chasms, waxed softer and wetter as the Col du Midi was
-approached; and at 6 p.m. we were shaking free from dust and filth the
-torn remnants of what had once been blankets in the little Col du Midi
-refuge.</p>
-
-<p>Next day, after discovering a new and rather difficult route up the
-Aiguille du Midi (12,608 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), we tramped wearily across the vast,
-white expanse of the Géant Glacier to the Rifugio Torino. There we
-saw the first human being we had set eyes upon since bidding “adieu”
-to our mule-driver on the Miage Glacier. For five whole days we had
-roamed over the lonely snows of Mont Blanc without meeting a single
-fellow-creature. In our daily life we jostle each other cheek by jowl;
-and sometimes it is good to be alone.</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> To-day (1924) no building or structure of any kind mars
-the sweeping majesty of Mont Blanc’s snowy dome.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br />
-<span class="vsmall">MONT BLANC FROM THE SOUTH</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">It</span> is a curious fact that, to this day, the southern slopes of Mont
-Blanc rank amongst the least frequented districts of the Alps. <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>
-James Eccles who, with Michel and Alphonse Payot, first climbed Mont
-Blanc from the south, over forty-four years ago, remarked in a paper
-read before the Alpine Club, “It is singular that, notwithstanding
-their close proximity to a good mountaineering centre, the glaciers
-of the south-western end of Mont Blanc have been, compared with other
-parts of the chain, so neglected by Alpine climbers.” Of the Brouillard
-and Fresnay Glaciers, the serious explorers of which may almost be
-counted on one’s fingers, Eccles’s words still hold good.</p>
-
-<p>In its general outline, the geography of the southern slopes of Mont
-Blanc is simple enough. The western and eastern boundaries are,
-respectively, the Brouillard and Peuteret ridges, which converge in
-Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. The region enclosed by these two colossal
-ridges is bisected by the Innominata ridge, on either side of which a
-glacier flows down from Mont Blanc; the Brouillard Glacier between the
-ridge of the same name and the Innominata ridge, the Fresnay Glacier
-between the latter and the Peuteret ridge. Both glaciers are remarkable
-for their steepness and the extent to which they are broken up. From
-source to snout, the Brouillard Glacier forms an almost uninterrupted
-icefall, the Fresnay Glacier even more so: indeed, from afar the
-latter resembles the tumbling, foaming crest of a storm-tossed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> wave.
-To the south of the Innominata lies a third glacier, the Glacier du
-Châtelet, but compared with the other two, it is insignificant in size
-and gentle in slope. All three ridges rise from the Val Veni in the
-form of great bluffs and cliffs. These, in the case of the Brouillard,
-soon narrow down to a well-defined ridge which, unbroken by any really
-prominent feature, rises steadily up to the two summits of Mont
-Brouillard (13,012 and 13,298 feet respectively). A gentle dip leads
-farther to the snowy Col Émile Rey (13,147 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), out of which steep
-cliffs, constituting a somewhat badly-defined ridge, swing themselves
-up to the Pic Luigi Amadeo (14,672 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), whence a long ridge rising at
-a comparatively gentle angle culminates in Mont Blanc de Courmayeur
-(15,604 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). From beginning to end, the Brouillard ridge forms a vast
-crescent; curving north-north-west in its lower half, it veers towards
-the north-north-east in its upper, and terminates almost due north of
-its source in the Val Veni. The precipitous, rocky south-eastern flank
-of the ridge between the Pic Luigi Amadeo and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur
-constitutes the uppermost portion of the south face of Mont Blanc.</p>
-
-<p>Totally different in character is the Peuteret ridge once it has become
-well-defined as such in the vicinity of the summit of the Aiguille
-Noire de Peuteret, where the two ridges enclosing the Fauteuil des
-Allemands converge. Following a north-westerly direction, the Peuteret
-ridge carries two outstanding elevations, the Aiguilles Noire and
-Blanche de Peuteret, which are separated from neighbouring portions of
-the ridge by the deep clefts of the Col des Dames Anglaises and the Col
-de Peuteret respectively. Out of the former tower the bold spires of
-the Dames Anglaises, enhancing the jagged outline characteristic of the
-ridge which, from the Col de Peuteret, in a final stupendous effort,
-soars up to Mont Blanc de Courmayeur.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img39">
-<img src="images/img39.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Mont Blanc from the Val Veni.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 228.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>In the Aiguille du Châtelet (8,292 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) the Innominata ridge at first
-makes rather a pusillanimous attempt to merit the description, then
-becomes lost in broad scree slopes from which emerge two ridges. One
-of these flanks the Brouillard Glacier, the other the Fresnay Glacier,
-and carries the Aiguille Joseph Croux and the depression called the
-Col de l’Innominata. At a point south of the Innominata itself, these
-two ridges finally unite, enclosing between their southern flanks
-the little Glacier du Châtelet. North of the Innominata, the ridge,
-running almost parallel to the Peuteret, dips into the depression
-known as the Col du Fresnay. Above the col it rises to a rocky summit
-over 13,000 feet high and called Pic Eccles, beyond which lies another
-depression, now known as the Col Supérieur du Fresnay, whence, in a
-futile attempt to connect with the Brouillard ridge, it rises abruptly
-in the direction of a point almost midway between the Pic Luigi Amadeo
-and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur and, after a last supreme endeavour to
-preserve its individuality in the shape of a huge, precipitous, red
-rock buttress, eventually loses itself in the rocky escarpments of the
-south face of Mont Blanc at an altitude of about 14,500 feet.</p>
-
-<p>In so far as successful attempts to reach the summit of the mountain
-are concerned, the history of the exploration of the south face of
-Mont Blanc is soon told. Prior to 1919, only two parties met with
-success. On July 30, 1876, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> James Eccles, accompanied by the guides
-Michel and Alphonse Payot, left Courmayeur and bivouacked on the rocks
-of the Innominata ridge, about midway between the Col du Fresnay and
-the Pic Eccles, at about 12,500 feet. Leaving their bivouac at 2.55
-next morning, they traversed the Pic Eccles into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> Col Supérieur
-du Fresnay, whence, descending steep rocks and an ice-filled couloir,
-they gained the uppermost level of the Fresnay Glacier. Three hours
-after leaving their bivouac, they crossed the bergschrund and began
-the ascent of the steep slopes of the great snowy couloir, which falls
-away towards the Fresnay Glacier from a point on the Peuteret ridge
-about 1,200 feet below Mont Blanc de Courmayeur. Taking to the broken
-rocks on the left (ascending) bank of the couloir as soon as possible,
-they followed these without difficulty to their end. Another bout of
-step-cutting then brought them out on to the Peuteret ridge, up which
-they arrived on to the summit of Mont Blanc de Courmayeur at 11.40 a.m.
-At 12.35 p.m., less than ten hours after leaving their bivouac, Mont
-Blanc itself was under foot.</p>
-
-<p>The only other successful expedition carried out before 1919 was that
-of Signor Gruber, with Émile Rey<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> and the porter Pierre Revel, in
-1880. Leaving Courmayeur on August 14, they bivouacked on some rocks
-near the Col du Fresnay. Crossing the col next morning, they descended
-to the Fresnay Glacier and worked towards the foot of the great rock
-buttress immediately between the huge uppermost icefall of the glacier
-and the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret. Late that afternoon, after most
-difficult climbing, they arrived in the Col de Peuteret, and thence
-followed the Peuteret ridge until nightfall compelled them to bivouac
-a second time. They were then about 1,200 feet below the summit. Next
-day (August 16), always keeping to the Peuteret ridge and very soon
-joining Eccles’s route, they passed over Mont Blanc de Courmayeur and,
-four hours after leaving their last bivouac,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> stood on the summit of
-Mont Blanc.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> This climb is usually referred to as if it were merely
-a variation of Eccles’s route. It is true that they have in common the
-ascent to the Col du Fresnay and the final 1,200 feet of the Peuteret
-ridge, but otherwise the two routes differ to such an extent that
-Gruber’s is worthy of being described as a new climb, and it was,
-moreover, the first complete ascent of the Peuteret ridge, from the Col
-de Peuteret.</p>
-
-<p>For the next thirty-nine years the gaunt ramparts of the southern flank
-of Mont Blanc effectively repelled all further assault. It seemed
-almost as if the great white mountain had found fresh strength in the
-defeats suffered through the hard-won victories of Eccles and Gruber.
-It was not that Mont Blanc, during this long interval, remained a
-victor through lack of would-be conquerors. All who came were firmly
-repulsed. The more fortunate escaped whole in life and limb; from
-others the death-toll was ruthlessly exacted.<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p>
-
-<p>The spell was finally broken in 1919. On August 20, Messrs. Oliver
-and Courtauld, with Adolfe and Henri Rey<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> and Adolf Aufdenblatten,
-bivouacked in the Col du Fresnay. The following day they traversed
-round the Pic Eccles, close below its summit, and gained the Col
-Supérieur du Fresnay,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> whence they followed the continuation of the
-Innominata ridge until, driven over to the left by the vertical, smooth
-rocks of its great final buttress, they were forced to climb the rocks
-of the south flank of the uppermost Brouillard ridge. This they gained
-at a point between the Pic Luigi Amadeo and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur,
-but rather nearer the latter. In little over eight hours after leaving
-their bivouac, they arrived on the summit of Mont Blanc, having thus
-opened a third route from the south.</p>
-
-<p>Early in August, 1921, the fourth successful ascent was effected by
-the famous Italian mountaineers Si. G. F. and G. B. Gugliermina and
-Francisco Ravelli—names for ever entwined with the history of Mont
-Blanc—and a porter from Courmayeur. They followed in its essentials
-the route of Messrs. Oliver and Courtauld. Their first bivouac was in
-the rocks of the Innominata below the Col du Fresnay, their second at
-the foot of the final great buttress of the Innominata ridge, while, on
-the descent, a third night was spent in the Vallot hut.</p>
-
-<p>Towards the end of July, 1921, I found myself in Zermatt, without a
-climbing companion—a lamentable state of affairs, due to trouble
-in Ireland preventing Forster from joining me as had been arranged.
-When Oliver and Courtauld arrived with the two Aufdenblattens after a
-successful traverse of the Dom from Saas, I was therefore more than
-pleased by their kind invitation to join their party. Theoretically, of
-course, I had no right to accept this, because I was out of training
-and had done nothing beyond walking half-way up to the Schwarzsee.</p>
-
-<p>Getting into training seems to be a spectre which looms large in the
-minds of most climbers of to-day. Often I feel impelled to think that,
-at all events from the physical point of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> view and as far as more
-youthful climbers are concerned, this fantastic mental conception must
-be, to a great extent, the result of auto-suggestion. In spite of a
-sedentary occupation, wholly unrelieved by any active form of sport,
-I am always ready to start climbing by climbing, and not by indulging
-in a ramble. In this instance, moreover, the immediate programme in
-view was not too ambitious, our aim being merely to get, somehow or
-other, to Breuil. The Col Tournanche was chosen as a pass for the sake
-of its novelty, none of us having previously crossed it. Arrived in
-Breuil, Oliver and Courtauld went on to Courmayeur, whilst I returned
-to Zermatt to bring my luggage round to Courmayeur by rail. A few days
-later, we were together on the Aiguille de Tronchey, with a keen eye
-to possibilities of a new route up the Grandes Jorasses. The great
-south ridge of the latter, however, showed no breach in its formidable
-defences, but the Peuteret ridge of Mont Blanc appeared to be in such a
-first-rate condition that, could it but be gained from the Brouillard
-and Fresnay side, it would almost certainly “go.” Talking matters over
-on our return to Courmayeur, we decided to repeat Eccles’s route. The
-ascent of the Peuteret ridge via the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret was
-ruled out on account of the dangerous condition of the Brenva Glacier
-and of the Aiguille Blanche itself—a condition due to the huge fall of
-rock and ice in November, 1920.</p>
-
-<p>On the following day, from a point in the road near the second refuge
-on the Italian side of the Petit St. Bernard, I carefully examined
-the south flank of Mont Blanc. The descent from the Col Supérieur du
-Fresnay on to the upper basin of the Fresnay Glacier seemed feasible,
-but the bergschrund below Eccles’s great couloir leading up to the
-Peuteret ridge appeared most formidable. The rocks showing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> through
-both to the left and the right of the Peuteret ridge, however, seemed
-to be as free from snow and ice as they were ever likely to be, while
-the ridge itself appeared to carry good snow.</p>
-
-<p>On August 7, we left Courmayeur with four porters and two carriages
-bearing our kit, Oliver, Courtauld, and myself as far as the Alpe
-du Fresnay, shortly after leaving which we encountered our first
-difficulty in the shape of the unfordable torrent descending from the
-Fresnay Glacier. By means of two felled trees discovered in a wood
-near by, we improvised a somewhat unstable bridge which most of us
-preferred to cross on all fours. Alfred Aufdenblatten boldly essayed
-to walk across, but not knowing the secret of keeping his eyes fixed
-on the bridge instead of on the water, lost his balance and only saved
-himself by a wild jump which barely landed him on the far bank. Towards
-nightfall we gained the new Gamba hut, situated on the Innominata ridge
-a little above the Aiguille du Châtelet.<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p>
-
-<p>Next morning we left shortly after daybreak, ascending over the
-débris-strewn slopes towards the moraine on the left bank of the
-Brouillard Glacier and took to this glacier at an altitude of about
-9,500 feet, at the point where the moraine ends and the rocks steepen
-up towards the Innominata. The work in front of us now changed
-completely in character. Ropes and climbing irons were put on; Adolf
-and Courtauld took the lead; Oliver, Alfred, and I formed the second
-party; while the porters, roped together two by two, brought up the
-rear-guard of our little army.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p>
-
-<p>Our labours began at once. Huge crevasses, the upper lips of which
-were often disconcertingly high above the lower, soon forced us out
-towards the middle of the glacier, where constant step-cutting was the
-rule. Progressing very rapidly, Adolf cut small steps, upon which we
-improved, so as to make things easier for the heavily-burdened porters.
-After much twisting and turning and some pretty ice work, we reached a
-small plateau where the Brouillard Glacier makes an heroic but rather
-unavailing effort to be level, prior to indulging in a mad tumble over
-a noisy “Heisse Platte.”<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> Here a half-hour halt was called for
-breakfast. We could now see right up to the head of the glacier, and
-Oliver pointed out to me the line of their ascent of 1919.</p>
-
-<p>The choice of either of two ways up to the Col du Fresnay now lay
-before us. We could follow the glacier, keeping more or less in
-the middle, or else traverse high up to the right across steep ice
-slopes leading down from the ridge of the Innominata. The latter
-route bore unmistakable evidence of having been recently swept by
-falling stones; débris on the glacier, however, testified even more
-generously to the fact that ice also falls, and, in addition, we
-could detect an abundance of bridgeless crevasses. We therefore chose
-honest step-cutting across the steep ice slopes. All set to work with
-a will, and progress was rapid. Dangers and difficulties ceased at a
-point somewhat below, and to the west of, the Col du Fresnay, where
-the glacier once more interrupts its headlong course to the valley by
-indulging in a small<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> snowfield of moderate incline. No difficulty was
-offered by the final bergschrund below the col, into which we stepped
-at 10 a.m., nearly five hours after leaving the hut.</p>
-
-<p>The Col du Fresnay is a striking view point from which the Innominata
-and the Aiguille Noire de Peuteret both show to extraordinary
-advantage. The descent from the col on to the Fresnay glacier does not
-appear to be difficult, although the rocks are sometimes steep and
-certainly rather rotten.</p>
-
-<p>After a rest of an hour and a half we once more got under way and,
-climbing up the ridge in the direction of the Pic Eccles, mounted
-over a short pitch of steep rock followed by an ice slope where heavy
-step-cutting was essential. This slope landed us on another diminutive
-snowy plateau, over which we made our way in the direction of the
-spur of rocks forming the west ridge of the Pic Eccles, and on which,
-after crossing a bergschrund and cutting up an ice slope, we effected
-a lodgment. Just as my party gained the rocks, a loud clattering was
-heard from the slopes of Mont Brouillard. Quickly pulling out my camera
-from my coat pocket, I was in good time to take a photograph of one of
-the most gigantic stone-falls I have ever seen. For several minutes
-dense clouds of stone dust hung over the track of the avalanche, while
-many large blocks swept over the Brouillard Glacier, right across the
-line of ascent followed by the brothers Gugliermina on the occasion of
-their memorable crossing of the Col Émile Rey.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img236">
-<img src="images/img236.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Innominata from the Col du Fresnay.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 236.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>After a brief halt, for the porters to close up, we commenced our
-assault on the rocks ahead. The climbing, though occasionally very
-steep, was not particularly difficult, despite the treacherous nature
-of the rock and the downward slope of its stratification. Incidentally,
-it may be remarked that, though unreliable, the rocks of the Pic
-Eccles were certainly the best encountered during the expedition.
-Taking the utmost care to avoid dislodging loose stones, which were
-sometimes of formidable size, we made our way up towards the summit of
-the Pic. When still some distance below it, however, Adolf led out to
-the left on the Brouillard side, and after some healthy passages across
-ice-filled gullies, we arrived in the Col Supérieur du Fresnay, without
-having actually passed over the top of the peak. The rocks on the Mont
-Blanc side of the col were gained at 2.30 p.m., and the several members
-of the party proceeded to select their couches for the night. It had
-been arranged that at this point two of the porters should return to
-the Gamba hut, but beyond depositing their loads, they made no attempt
-to move; indeed, they even threw out hints about preferring to stay
-with us till the following day. The polyglot imaginative eloquence of
-Adolf, however, soon persuaded them of the supreme folly of shivering
-in a bivouac when the seductive warmth and shelter of the hut were
-awaiting them. Their two companions were provided with blankets, as
-they were to remain the night and take down the sleeping-bags and
-excess kit on the morrow.</p>
-
-<p>The Col Supérieur du Fresnay consists of a narrow snow ridge sloping
-off abruptly on one side to the Brouillard, and on the other to the
-Fresnay Glacier. To the east, beyond the Col Émile Rey we could see a
-snow summit, probably one of the summits of the Aiguilles de Trélatête.
-The height of our bivouac, therefore, must have been about 13,200 feet.
-The great south face of Mont Blanc falls away from the Brouillard ridge
-above, in slopes of broken rocks which finally merge into enormously
-steep, slabby precipices abutting on the Brouillard Glacier. The eye
-could follow the course of this glacier almost throughout its length.
-It is so grotesquely broken up that one wonders that it is possible
-to thread it. The uppermost basin,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> still untrodden, I believe, by
-human foot, and forming a little, almost level snowfield, is isolated
-by one or two formidable crevasses which cut right across the glacier
-from side to side. The west face of the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret,
-composed almost wholly of dark grey rock unrelieved by scarcely a
-single speck of snow, looks practically inaccessible. The route of
-the late H. O. Jones,<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> led by Laurent Croux, looks difficult and
-desperately dangerous from falling stones. Formerly, the Col de
-Peuteret was, so Oliver tells me, a snow-saddle from which either the
-Peuteret ridge or the rocks of the Aiguille Blanche could be gained
-with comparative ease. Now, however, as a result of the huge avalanche
-which fell away from the Peuteret ridge and the col itself in November,
-1920, the height of the latter has been considerably lowered, so that
-from our bivouac we could see beyond it right down to well below the
-summit of the Grand Flambeau. Great bergschrunds now bar direct access
-to either the Peuteret ridge or the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret. From
-the lower rocks of the ridge itself much has fallen away, and they are
-now much steeper. Continual stone-falls, and the liberal traces left by
-them about the foot of the ridge, offered ample evidence of its present
-unstable condition.</p>
-
-<p>It was impossible to find, or even make, a ledge which would
-accommodate the whole party; indeed, none proved wide enough to take
-more than one man, so that after each had selected his couch, we found
-ourselves well scattered over the mountain side. The two porters found
-a berth for themselves at the point where the snowy ridge of the col
-abuts on the rocks. My own sleeping place was a level stretch of rock
-and snow ridge slightly higher up on the Mont Blanc<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> side of the col,
-and on the very backbone of the Innominata ridge. About three feet wide
-at the pillow end, but dwindling away to next door to nothing in the
-region of my feet, it had the advantage of length combined with the
-pleasant uncertainty as to which of the two glaciers, the Fresnay or
-the Brouillard, would have the honour of receiving my mortal remains
-should I lose my balance. The others deposited themselves on more
-or less inadequate ledges on the Brouillard side of the ridge. The
-nearest water supply was five minutes’ climbing distance down towards
-the Brouillard Glacier. On their journey back, skilfully balancing
-well-filled cooking vessels, Alfred and one of the porters (Henri Rey’s
-son) performed some choice feats of rock-climbing.</p>
-
-<p>There were still two hours of sunshine due before the last rays
-sank behind the Brouillard ridge, and these we utilised by changing
-our clothing (a lengthy process, as one hand was usually required
-for balancing purposes) and re-arranging knapsacks, all superfluous
-equipment being put on one side for the porters descending next
-morning. In spite of all my efforts to reduce weight, my burden for
-the morrow’s climb proved to be quite a respectable one. In addition
-to spare clothing, comprising shirt, storm cap and gloves, I had
-climbing irons, two cameras, films for seventy-six exposures in
-air-tight tins, and one day’s iron ration for the whole party. This,
-consisting of two pounds of chocolate, the same quantity of sausage,
-and fifty cigarettes, I had brought with me, feeling confident that the
-optimistic Adolf had made no provision as far as food was concerned for
-the possible eventuality of our being forced to bivouac a second time.</p>
-
-<p>At half-past four we had a frugal but welcome meal of hot soup. At
-five the sun set behind the Brouillard ridge, and the inevitable chill
-of high altitude soon making itself felt, one and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> all prepared for
-the night. Alfred and I, finding our ledges somewhat too exposed for
-our liking, roped at either end of a sixty-foot rope which we belayed
-over a projecting rock. Six o’clock saw us all settled down more or
-less comfortably. From all accounts, I seem to have spent the warmest
-night, and in view of this a few particulars as to my sleeping-bag may
-possibly be of interest. It was home-made: 7 feet long and 3¹⁄₂ feet
-wide; it consisted of an inner bag composed of 3  <abbr title="pound">lb.</abbr> of finest grade
-eiderdown, quilted in 1-foot squares into the thinnest procurable
-balloon fabric, and an enveloping outer bag of similar material
-rendered air-tight and damp-proof by a coating of “Duroprene.” The
-total weight was just short of five pounds.</p>
-
-<p>I crawled into my bag. But soon the inevitable stone in the small of
-the back, the antagonist of many a nocturnal episode in that wonderful
-Odyssey of the climber, <i>Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers</i>, began its
-insistent ministrations. Unlike the heroes of olden times, however, I,
-deeming discretion the better part of valour, not only resisted the
-temptation to put the enemy <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hors de combat</i>, but, by the simple
-expedient of curling round and clinging fondly to it with my hands,
-I made of it a comrade in arms whose tangibility did much to dispel
-the feeling of insecurity born of the airiness of my perch. The last
-thing I remember was the crimson glory of the sunset touching the huge
-columns of storm-clouds which reared themselves aloft over the Grivola.
-I slept soundly. Twice only did I awake; once to find the lower
-portion of my anatomy dangling coquettishly over the Brouillard side
-of my couch; and again, stirred from a deep slumber by my instinctive
-grappling for an elusive handhold, to discover that I had transferred
-my legs to the Fresnay side.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span></p>
-
-<p>About half-past four I was aroused by Adolf, rather blue about the
-gills, but cheerful as ever and obviously looking forward to a good
-day’s work. He winked portentously, then, with a somewhat vacant stare,
-looked out beyond me towards the plains of Italy. Following his gaze,
-I soon understood. Over the Paradiso group, vast thunder-clouds still
-brooded; the sky was streaked with ominous, long, dark, fish-shaped
-masses, and I suddenly became aware that a wind had sprung up and was
-blowing past our bivouac in angry, fitful gusts. It seemed almost as
-if our climb were going to develop into a race against the approaching
-storm. I returned Adolf’s confidential wink in kind as he passed me a
-generous cup of hot tea—a luxury which in similar situations, as a
-guideless climber, I had always had to procure for myself.</p>
-
-<p>After a quickly-swallowed breakfast, all was bustle in our camp. My
-boots, which I had lashed to a rock to make certain of not losing them
-(horrible thought!), were easily pulled on, for, though stiff, they
-were very large. By 5 a.m. everything was packed, sleeping-bags rolled
-up handy for the porters, and, roping in the same order as yesterday,
-we began the descent on to the Fresnay Glacier. This led down a steep
-couloir over extremely rotten rocks. The danger of inadvertently
-loosening stones was so great that we gave Adolf and Courtauld time to
-get round a corner out of harm’s way before beginning our own descent.
-Once past the uppermost portion, the slope of the couloir became more
-reasonable, and we were able to work down over a rib on one side till
-we reached a point a little above the head of the uppermost icefall
-of the Fresnay Glacier. Our way to the upper basin of the glacier led
-across a steep, ice-clad couloir followed by an ice slope which bore
-palpable signs of being frequently raked by falling stones and ice.
-Before we were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> ready to proceed, however, a stone-fall of generous
-proportions clattered down into the couloir, isolated pebbles following
-at odd intervals. Nothing daunted, Adolf, the neatest, fastest, and
-most powerful step-cutter it has ever been my good fortune to see at
-work, banged away across the danger zone in great style. The descent on
-to the Fresnay Glacier occupied, in all, barely an hour. Besides the
-extreme rottenness of the rock, we had met with no real difficulty and
-were well satisfied with our rate of progress.</p>
-
-<p>Threading our way through a maze of ice blocks, remnants of icefalls
-from the huge bergschrund above, we crossed the basin, veering round
-and up towards the bergschrund at a point almost immediately below
-the rocks flanking the western bank of Eccles’s great couloir. The
-previous evening we had decided that of the only two possible ways of
-surmounting the obstacle, this was the safer. The alternative lay in
-crossing the bergschrund far over towards the Pic Eccles, at the only
-spot where it was more or less adequately bridged. But this would have
-entailed hours of step-cutting across the stone-swept slopes above
-the schrund before Eccles’s couloir could be gained. At the point of
-attack a flake had become partially detached from the bergschrund,
-and Adolf and Courtauld made rapid headway to the summit of the flake
-which was, unfortunately, about twenty feet short of the top of the
-schrund. Seeing that further operations promised to take time, we
-ensconced ourselves comfortably down below, while Adolf brought his
-wits to bear upon the solution of the problem of overcoming twenty feet
-of practically perpendicular ice. He was half-way over the obstacle
-when he encountered a bulge which threatened to come perilously near
-destroying his balance. But the last ounce on the right side was
-supplied by Alfred’s ice-axe, after we had hurriedly joined Courtauld<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span>
-on his somewhat unstable perch. After that all was easy, at least as
-far as the others were concerned, for they seemed to find no difficulty
-in gaily walking up Adolf’s well-cut steps. But what with a knapsack
-on my back and a camera in my coat pocket, I found more than a little
-trouble in balancing myself round the bulge. This obstruction, in all
-sixty feet high, having been negotiated, a steep slope, sometimes snow,
-sometimes ice, intervened between us and our next objective, the rocks
-on the west bank of Eccles’s couloir. We mounted quickly, for scarcely
-a step needed to be cut, thanks to the plentiful pock-marks made by
-falling stones. On reaching the rocks, we found them almost unclimbable
-in their lower portion and were forced out towards the middle of the
-couloir—a procedure which necessitated the crossing of a deep ice-clad
-stone chute. Thence we climbed over a small island of rocks all but
-submerged in ice, from the upper end of which we were able to traverse
-back and finally gain the rocks on the west bank of the couloir, at a
-point where they were broken up and obviously easy to climb. None too
-soon, however, for hardly had the last man reached dry land when a
-stone-fall clattered down the couloir behind us.</p>
-
-<p>It was 8.30; we had been nearly three and a half hours under way and
-for the best part of the time working at high pressure. On looking
-up towards the Peuteret ridge and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, it
-appeared as if we had left all real difficulties behind us, and the
-optimists of the party prophesied being on the summit within a couple
-of hours. So, though the weather was fast becoming worse, we settled
-down light-heartedly to a second breakfast. The iron ration sausage
-was produced and attacked with gusto; though of the same breed, it
-differed distinctly from the ordinary salami, which to me is somewhat
-reminiscent of cat and dog. Whatever its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> constituents may have been,
-it went down well, being as savoury as usual, but less salted and not
-so highly spiced. We allowed ourselves half an hour’s grace, then
-stowed away our climbing irons and started up the rocks. They proved
-to be easy, though most unreliable. Here and there ice, covered more
-often than not by bad snow, took time to negotiate, but on the whole we
-made rapid progress. Shortly after ten we gained the end of the rocks;
-slightly below us and to the right was the point where the snowy upper
-half of the Peuteret ridge begins. A little snow slope brought us out
-on the ridge itself, but not without free use of the axe. The snow was
-deep and very bad; it lacked cohesion and concealed hard ice. Working
-along slightly on the Brenva side of the ridge, we at first found snow
-just sufficiently good to bear our weight in kicked steps, but in less
-than a rope’s length it had become so bad that it had to be cleared
-away before the climbing irons would bite into the ice underneath. The
-spikes of my irons, fully three-quarters of an inch longer than those
-worn by the others, proved their value here. By merely stamping, I
-could force my foot far enough through the snow to grip the ice below.
-This was one of the several occasions arising on this expedition where
-the presence of an indifferent ice-climber would have proved not only
-troublesome but a real danger to the safety of the party, by causing
-the loss of much valuable time. After progressing in this manner for
-about a hundred yards, we got tired of threshing down the execrable
-snow which seemed to get worse as we gained in altitude. Within easy
-reach both to the left and the right were rock ribs which offered a
-less tedious means of advance. A traverse of about thirty yards across
-the steep western flank of the Peuteret ridge brought us on to one of
-these ribs, the rocks of which soon showed themselves to be exceedingly
-rotten. Once more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> the climbing irons were removed and placed in our
-knapsacks. Oliver, at this point, had the misfortune to lose his axe;
-he placed it on a ledge, where it lost its balance and fell down in a
-few stately bounds towards the Fresnay Glacier. It was while watching
-the axe disappear that I realised for the first time the enormous
-general steepness of the ground upon which we were climbing.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img244a">
-<img src="images/img244a.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Aigulles Blanche and Noire de Peuteret.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>From a point on the Peuteret ridge about 1,200 feet below the summit
-of Mont Blanc.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img244b">
-<img src="images/img244b.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption">“<i>A traverse of about thirty yards across the steep
-western flank of the Peuteret ridge.</i>...”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 244.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>It now looked as if rocks could be followed practically all the way
-to the summit—a relief for which we were duly thankful, having had
-quite enough of snow. There was some difference of opinion as to the
-best line of ascent up these rocks; but, on the whole, there seems to
-have been little in our respective choices, for Adolf and Courtauld,
-whose route converged with that of our party from time to time, always
-succeeded in maintaining a lead of one or more rope’s lengths. The
-climbing was difficult, and throughout extreme caution was necessary,
-on account of the unreliability of the rock. Occasionally, a belt
-of almost vertical red rock of a fair degree of firmness would crop
-up, but even this was invariably crowned with the rotten, dark brown
-variety. Nevertheless, we climbed quickly, for while still six hundred
-feet below Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, swirling mists practically
-obliterated all view of our surroundings, and it was evident that,
-if we were not soon to find ourselves in a critical situation, every
-minute gained was precious. The rocks came to an end about a hundred
-feet below the summit of Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, and only a slope
-covered with the usual pernicious snow lay between us and safety.
-Adolf, trusting more to his climbing irons and to gentle treatment of
-the snow than to his ice-axe, climbed rapidly up to immediately beneath
-the cornice, cut himself a good step, and with a few powerful strokes
-hewed a channel through which he was speedily<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> followed by Courtauld.
-While we were putting the finishing touches to the donning of extra
-clothing, in preparation for the cold weather up aloft, Adolf’s
-stentorian voice shouted down a cheery “Come along!” Looking up, I
-could just barely make out his well-muffled-up head framed in the notch
-in the cornice. Then he disappeared.</p>
-
-<p>At 1.15 p.m. we, in turn, stepped through the cornice on to Mont
-Blanc de Courmayeur, to be greeted by a high and chilly wind. Adolf
-and Courtauld were already out of sight, though they were certainly
-not far away, for the jingling of their axes against the rocks of a
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> close by was audible above the sound of the gale. The
-mist was so thick that we could not see each other at rope’s length.
-Adolf’s tracks led off along the crest of the ridge towards Mont Blanc.
-Having painful memories from last year, however, of what this ridge
-could be like in stormy weather, I forsook his tracks and plunged
-down on to the Trélatête side, in the hopes of there finding more
-shelter from the icy blast. In view of Oliver’s axeless condition this
-involved step-cutting; but, on looking back after having cut about
-twenty steps, I saw him coming along as nonchalantly as if he were on a
-London pavement, so immediately gave up further cutting and relied upon
-climbing irons alone. In this way we skirted round the bases of three
-or four rocky outcrops and regained the ridge at about its lowest point
-between Mont Blanc and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur.</p>
-
-<p>A little farther on we found the other two, who were inclined to
-mistake a small snowy hump for the summit of Mont Blanc. To avoid the
-wind, we now crossed over on to the Brenva side of the ridge and,
-traversing diagonally upwards, found tracks leading up from the Mur de
-la Côte. These were followed to the summit where we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> arrived at 1.45
-p.m., having been eight and three-quarter hours under way from our
-bivouac.</p>
-
-<p>The state of the weather precluded descending by either the Rochers or
-the Dôme route, and we contented ourselves with going down directly to
-Chamonix. Being the only member of the party with first-hand knowledge
-of the Grands Mulets route, I was deputed to show the way. The descent
-was uneventful, except for Oliver’s spraining his ankle, and for the
-fact that my pigheadedness in refusing to follow the tracks brought us
-out to the Pierre à l’Échelle, which route, I have since learnt, has
-been recently discarded in favour of the Montagne de la Côte.</p>
-
-<p>This narrative would be incomplete were it brought to a close without
-expressing my admiration for the professional members of the party.
-Adolf and I were not unknown to each other, for twelve years ago, on
-a stormy September day, we had stood together on the summit of the
-Lyskamm. Since then he has joined that select coterie of first-class
-guides whose number can be counted on one’s fingers. He has climbed
-Mont Blanc by nearly every conceivable route and thus knows the
-mountain better than any other living guide. I need say little of his
-prowess either on ice or on rock; he is first-rate on both. Last,
-but not least, he is an excellent companion, ever eager to be doing,
-and ready to put every ounce of energy into any problem upon which
-he embarks. Alfred, who was serving only the second season of his
-apprenticeship, is fast following in his brother’s footsteps. He too
-will, sooner or later, become a first-class guide. Four Courmayeur
-porters accompanied us up to the Col Supérieur du Fresnay. They carried
-heavy loads, but through all the trying situations that arose, they
-preserved their good humour and determination. Their conduct was
-admirable.</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Émile Rey was one of the finest of Alpine guides. He lost
-his life, in 1895, through a slip while descending the easy rocks at
-the base of the Aiguille du Géant.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> An interesting inscription, written by Signor Gruber
-and giving brief details of this formidable expedition, may still be
-seen pencilled on a beam in the Dôme hut, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">via</i> which the party
-returned to Courmayeur. From the general tone of this inscription,
-short as it is, can be gathered the strong impression which Mont Blanc
-had, on this occasion, made upon all members of the party.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> In 1874 <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> J. G. Marshall, with the guides Johann
-Fischer and Ulrich Almer, fell into a crevasse on the Brouillard
-Glacier. The two first-named were killed.</p>
-
-<p>Professor F. M. Balfour and his guide Johann Petrus lost their lives in
-1882 while attempting to repeat Signor Gruber’s ascent.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Sons of Émile Rey.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> The original Gamba hut stood on the Fresnay side of
-the Châtelet-Innominata ridge. In the winter of 1919-20, however, it
-was wrecked by an avalanche, and from the débris was constructed the
-present hut which stands on the ridge itself about ten minutes above
-the old site, at approximately 8,300 feet.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> The rocky bed of a glacier sometimes becomes so steep
-that the ice falls away and exposes the rock underneath. As the ice
-at the top of such a rock slope partakes of the continual downward
-movement of the glacier, it is continually breaking away and crashing
-down the rock to the continuation of the glacier lower down. Swiss
-guides call such a place “Heisse Platte,” <i>i.e.</i> “hot (or lively)
-slab.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Professor and <abbr title="missus">Mrs.</abbr> Jones and their guide Truffer were
-killed in 1921 while climbing the Mont Rouge de Peuteret.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br />
-<span class="vsmall">TWO CHAMONIX AIGUILLES</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">North-north-east</span> of, and near to Mont Blanc, is a compact group of bold
-buttresses and ridges supporting a multitude of dark rock pinnacles
-whose slender spires seem close against the sky. These are the Chamonix
-Aiguilles. The conquest of the more important of these bold granite
-towers was largely due to the inspiring energy and determination of the
-late <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> A. F. Mummery, one of the greatest of bygone mountaineers. For
-devotees of rock-climbing pure and simple, the Aiguilles of Chamonix
-are a veritable paradise, for they form one of the few mountain groups
-in the Alps where the rock is so firm and reliable that one can
-climb for hours on end without encountering a single loose stone or
-questionable handhold.</p>
-
-<p>Rock-climbing, particularly on good, sound rock, has never held any
-great charm for me. I have always regarded it as but one of the
-simplest, most easily learnt and less important branches of a wider
-art, and, as it is met with on almost any big snow-and-ice expedition,
-I have never felt disposed to go out of my way in search of it for its
-own sake. It was not until the close of the summer season of 1910 that
-my friend, Ph. Visser, induced me to launch out on an expedition where
-rock-climbing was avowedly the main attraction.</p>
-
-
-<h3 class="center reg p1"><span class="smcap big">The Requin</span></h3>
-
-<p>The Dent du Requin, one of the more popular of the Chamonix Aiguilles,
-is a bold, rocky tower rising to a height<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> of over 11,200 feet from
-one end of the long ridge which falls away from the Aiguille du Plan
-towards the east. Early on the morning of August 29, we left the
-Montanvert in two parties, the first consisting of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Lugard and his
-guide, Joseph Knubel, a rock-climber of great distinction hailing
-from St. Nicholas in the Zermatt Valley, and the second of Visser
-and myself. Following the customary route towards the Col du Géant
-as far as the great icefall of the Géant Glacier, we made our way up
-unpleasantly steep screes to the d’Envers du Plan Glacier, over whose
-much crevassed surface we eventually gained the southern slopes of the
-ridge connecting the Plan with the Requin, at a point where broken
-rocks gave easy access to the crest. Six and a half hours after leaving
-the Montanvert, we arrived at the point on the ridge known as the
-Shoulder, and the Requin appeared in full view. I must confess to a
-feeling of disappointment; it was obvious that there could not be more
-than an hour’s difficult climbing. The six and a half hours’ ascent
-from the Montanvert had been tiring and utterly devoid of interest in
-the mountaineering sense, except for the comparatively short passage
-over the d’Envers du Plan Glacier, and I failed to see how one hour’s
-rock-climbing could merit such a tedious approach. Knubel, who had
-already made several ascents of the peak, now went ahead with Lugard
-and, climbing without difficulty, arrived at a gap in the ridge just
-below the lower end of the immense and partly overhanging chimney
-that cleaves the Requin almost from head to foot. At the foot of the
-chimney, a steep slab falls away towards a ledge which Knubel and
-Lugard gained by the use of the doubled rope. Visser and I followed,
-retrieving the rope after reaching the ledge. Then, mounting a series
-of short, very steep chimneys, we arrived on a broad platform.
-Henceforward, working spiral-wise, we climbed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> to the summit. The
-climbing was difficult throughout, but it was always perfectly safe.
-The holds were everywhere extraordinarily reliable, and it was probably
-this selfsame reliability and the fact that a party preceded us all the
-time that made the Requin, as a climbing proposition, seem hopelessly
-dull and monotonous. Only now and again when one’s eye travelled down
-the tremendous precipices to the gloomy, shut-in basin of the d’Envers
-du Blaitière Glacier, did one become conscious of one’s airy position
-and feel the vivid sense of exhilaration that every real mountain climb
-provides almost throughout.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img250a">
-<img src="images/img250a.jpg" class="w75" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption b2"><i>Chamonix Aiguilles and Mont Blanc.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img250b">
-<img src="images/img250b.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone b2"><i>Descending the Grépon.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img250c">
-<img src="images/img250c.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone"><i>A stiff chimney.</i></p>
-<p class="right50 small b2"><i>Facing page 250.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>If the ascent, however, had been weary, stale and unprofitable, the
-descent was to provide me with at least one compensating thrill. With
-the aid of the doubled rope, the great chimney before mentioned can be
-descended, and the dreariness of going home by the same road, as it
-were, avoided. Knubel and Lugard led off down the chimney, the upper
-half of which is barren of outstanding difficulty. We fixed a doubled
-rope, but there was no need to use it. In the middle of the chimney,
-however, there is a sloping platform which was plastered with ice;
-and below the platform the chimney falls away in a great overhang. We
-discovered a rusty <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> driven into a narrow fissure in one
-side of the crack, but it was very loose. So Knubel hammered away some
-of the ice from the platform and laid bare a projecting stone over
-which he passed the spare rope. Together we let Lugard down to the
-bottom of the chimney. Then came Visser’s turn, and Knubel went next,
-preferring to rely entirely on the doubled rope. Having nothing else
-to do for the moment, I relaxed, and was absorbing the view when, by
-the merest chance, I happened to glance down at my feet. To my horror,
-I saw the rope on which Knubel was now hanging in free air slowly
-but surely rolling itself off the belay. Just in time to prevent its
-slipping off altogether, I trod heavily on it with my foot. Knubel,
-all unconscious of how near he had been to destruction, swung gaily
-downwards to the others. Then came my turn. After what I had witnessed,
-I felt disinclined to trust myself to the treacherous belay. After
-some little delay, during which I was much chaffed by the others, who
-were unaware of the cause of my hesitation, I succeeded in jamming the
-rusty old <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piton</i> firmly enough into its fissure to satisfy even
-my now somewhat critical ideas of safety; and, passing the doubled rope
-through the ring, I shinned down. The climb was over. There remained
-nothing but the dreary return to the Montanvert; there had been one
-thrill, and that an undesirable one and unshared by my companions. The
-impression that survived was one of monotony, and I longed for all
-the wonderful variety and wide appeal which makes the real mountain
-adventure such a thing of joy.</p>
-
-
-<h3 class="center reg p1"><span class="smcap big">The Grépon</span></h3>
-
-<p>A gigantic saw set up on edge and crowned by an array of irregular
-teeth—such, as seen broadside on from either the Mer de Glace or
-the Nantillons Glacier, is the great serrated ridge formed by the
-Charmoz and the Grépon. The deep col, or depression, which divides
-the ridge approximately in half, bears the composite name of the Col
-Charmoz-Grépon. Both of these peaks were climbed for the first time
-by a party consisting of Mummery, Alexander Burgener, that Viking of
-guides, and B. Venetz, a young fellow who must have been a very active
-climber; and all three declared the ascent of the Grépon to be “the
-most difficult climb in the world.” The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span> advance which has taken place
-since Mummery’s time in modern rock-climbing has robbed the Grépon of
-its right to this proud title; but its ascent is still held to rank
-amongst the most difficult rock-climbing problems which the climber is
-able to find in the Alps or, indeed, in any other part of the world.</p>
-
-<p>The ascent of the Grépon formed the last item upon our programme for
-the summer of 1911. Like the Requin, the Grépon is built up of huge
-blocks of marvellously firm granite, and, after my experience of the
-former, I hoped for little mountaineering enjoyment from the latter.
-As far as we could gather, there would be real mountaineering only on
-the ascent to the Col Charmoz-Grépon, whence the actual climb starts,
-and on the descent from the Col des Nantillons. Several mountaineers,
-however, had assured us that rock-climbing was not only more attractive
-than snow and ice work but also more difficult. So, desirous of
-testing fairly the truth of this statement so far as we ourselves were
-concerned, Max and I left the Montanvert at 2 a.m. on September 5,
-bound for the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ne plus ultra</i> of rock ascents.</p>
-
-<p>If care is taken never to lose sight of it, a path, at first
-well-marked but dwindling away to a diminutive track, may be followed
-almost on to the Nantillons Glacier, whence the broad couloir running
-down from the Col Charmoz-Grépon is reached. The head of this glacier
-is enclosed in a cirque of horseshoe shape formed by the cliffs of the
-Charmoz, Grépon and Blaitière. In line with the ends of the horseshoe,
-the glacier tumbles over a cliff, and the icefall thus formed divides
-it into an upper and lower half. We succeeded in keeping to the
-Montanvert track all the way to the glacier and, while walking up the
-gently inclined snow-free surface of the lower half, had ample<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span> time
-to study the icefall. It was easy to recognise in a steep island of
-rocks lying close under the cliffs of the Blaitière the best line of
-ascent to the upper half of the glacier. Below these rocks the ice
-steepened somewhat, and a few steps had to be cut before the island
-was gained. Once on the rocks the traces of previous climbers were
-everywhere in evidence, and we followed a trail of empty tins, bottles
-and other leavings of humanity to the farther end of the island, where,
-just after daybreak, we roped and embarked upon the glacier. We had
-proceeded only a few yards, when we were suddenly brought up short on
-the edge of an enormous crevasse which stretched away, unbridged, on
-either hand to the bounding cliffs of the cirque. To cross would have
-involved hours of hard work and step-cutting, but for the fact that
-two ladders tied together and laid across the chasm at its narrowest
-point were still in a sufficiently serviceable condition to enable us
-to gain the farther edge without trouble. Thence, hastening through a
-short zone endangered by the séracs of an ice wall at the foot of the
-Blaitière, we gained the middle of the upper basin of the Nantillons
-Glacier and proceeded leisurely up the hard-frozen snow to the foot of
-the couloir which gives access to the Col Charmoz-Grépon.</p>
-
-<p>The summer having been exceptionally dry and fine, the mountain was
-practically free from snow and ice, so we left one of our axes and a
-knapsack containing all superfluous baggage at the foot of the couloir,
-to be recovered on the descent. In the remaining knapsack we carried
-spare clothing, a spare one-hundred-and-fifty-foot rope and a few
-provisions, including a can of peaches and a tin of condensed milk
-reserved for the summit feast. Camera and spare films were stowed away,
-as usual, in my coat pocket. Some little difficulty was experienced
-in effecting a lodgment in the rocky bed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span> of the couloir, the glacier
-having shrunk away from the rock to such an extent that a rather deep
-cleft had been formed. The descent into the cleft was easy enough, but
-it was only after a sharp, if short, struggle up a very steep chimney
-with unreliable holds on the upper side of the cleft that the broken
-rocks of the couloir were gained. Here the climbing was perfectly easy,
-though the rock was far from firm, and care was necessary. We climbed
-close together on a short rope on account of the many loose rocks,
-some of which needed only a touch to start them crashing down to the
-glacier. Without meeting with any real obstacle, we mounted rapidly,
-keeping for the most part well to the left of the couloir which bore
-unmistakable signs of stone-falls. At the point where the couloir
-bifurcates, we took the branch to the right. It was much steeper and
-narrower than the lower part of the couloir and was partially filled
-with ice, but the remains of steps were still fairly well preserved and
-needed but little re-cutting. Shortly before 7 a.m. we gained the Col
-Charmoz-Grépon. On a little level ledge overlooking the immense and
-tremendously steep precipice falling away towards the Mer de Glace,
-we found shelter from the icy morning breeze and, warmed by the rays
-of the sun, settled down to our first rest and meal since leaving
-the Montanvert. Progress had been on the whole leisurely. The climb
-had provided mountaineering of the ordinary, everyday kind without
-notable difficulty, though, had it not been for the ladders, the large
-crevasse would undoubtedly have provided hard work. But it had been
-real mountaineering with all its essential variety, now rock, now ice,
-now snow; everything had been taken as it came, and, in addition, we
-had been almost throughout in, to us, an unknown region of wild and
-beautiful scenery. But now from the col onwards, if the information of
-others could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span> be relied upon, we should for hours on end be indulging
-in nothing more than a strenuous form of gymnastics.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img40">
-<img src="images/img40.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone b2"><i>A sérac.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img41">
-<img src="images/img41.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone">“<i>Two ladders tied together and laid across the
-chasm....</i>”</p>
-<p class="right50 small"><i>Facing page 254.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>For one whole delightful hour we dallied, basking in the warm sun;
-then, deeming it time to begin acrobatic operations, we returned to
-the col to have a good look at the famous Mummery crack with which the
-climb commences, and which is held to be the most difficult portion
-of the ascent. The crack lies on the Nantillons side of the ridge and
-is formed by a huge flake of rock which has become partially detached
-from the main mass of the mountain. It is about seventy feet high
-and almost vertical; indeed, in its lower part it appears even to
-overhang slightly. A spacious enough platform at the bottom provides
-a good jumping-off place. Leaving my camera and all other impedimenta
-behind in the col, I gained the platform and immediately set to work,
-while Max, perched on a slender, leaning spire jutting out of the
-col, belayed the rope. The crack was sufficiently deep to permit me
-to get my right arm into it beyond the elbow, and, though narrow, it
-was sufficiently wide to admit my right foot. Left arm and foot sought
-and found hold, though minute, on the rough crystalline texture of the
-outside surface of the flake. By twisting my right arm or turning my
-right boot, either could be wedged firmly into the fissure at will,
-and an absolutely reliable hold obtained. By adopting a method of
-progression similar to that of a caterpillar, that is, alternately
-bending and straightening myself, I rose quickly, passed beyond the
-lower overhanging portion, and about half-way up gained a small ledge
-on the flake which provided good standing room for the left foot. Thus
-far the climbing had been more a question of knack than a trial of
-strength, and I looked up at the second half of the crack expecting to
-see some hitherto hidden feature that would give serious trouble. If
-anything,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> however, it seemed easier than the part already overcome.
-Here and there a stone jammed tightly into the fissure promised perfect
-handhold. I rested for a few seconds, then resumed the attack. A little
-way above the ledge, both surfaces of the flake became very smooth, and
-for the first time I had to struggle really hard; but soon my right
-hand gripped the first of the chock-stones, and the remainder of the
-crack to within six feet of its top was easily negotiated. The final
-wall to the right was studded with plentiful handholds and soon I was
-standing on the crowning platform. The ascent of Mummery’s crack had
-taken me just over two and three-quarter minutes. While I held his
-rope, Max, with ice-axe and knapsack, now climbed over to the ledge at
-the foot of the crack. There he unroped and tied on the baggage, which
-I then hauled up to my perch. As soon as it was safely stowed away,
-I flung the end of the rope back to Max, whose turn had now come. He
-clambered up at an amazing pace without even pausing to rest at the
-half-way ledge, and was soon beside me on the broad platform, panting
-out a scathing criticism on those who dared to compare gymnastics on
-rock with the varied difficulties of snow and ice work.</p>
-
-<p>From here onwards the climbing, though almost throughout difficult,
-never came up to the standard of that of the crack. Sometimes we
-climbed on one side of the ridge, sometimes on the other, and at
-times on the crest itself. Belays were in evidence everywhere, and
-the rock was uniformly good. Never did we meet with a single loose or
-unreliable hand- or foothold. After passing the bold pinnacle which is
-the northern summit of the aiguille, we arrived on the great platform
-which breaks away in the precipitous, unclimbable wall, called the
-Grand Diable, leading down to a deep gap in the ridge. Thanks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span> to
-our plentiful supply of rope, this obstacle was easily overcome by
-resorting to the time-honoured dodge of roping down. From the gap, a
-level ledge known as the Route des Bicyclettes winds along the Mer
-de Glace face and enables one to circumvent the ensuing <a id="pinnacle"></a>be-pinnacled
-portion of the ridge. After some further scrambling we stood at the
-foot of the final summit pinnacle. This, a great square-cut tower,
-capped by a huge, flat stone and seamed by a formidable-looking cleft,
-had been in full view before us ever since passing the northern summit,
-and we had already jumped to the conclusion that the way to the top led
-up this cleft. As the description of the summit crack given to us, a
-few days before, tallied more or less with the fearsome-looking thing
-to our left, we decided to disregard an obviously easy ledge running
-round to the Nantillons face. It is true that we had been told that
-the summit crack was much easier than Mummery’s, and we failed to see
-anything easy in the crack before us; also, as it hung right out over
-the terrific precipices running down to the Mer de Glace, one would be
-in a frightfully exposed position while climbing it. But appearances
-are never so deceptive as in the mountains, so I buttoned up my coat,
-made sure that the knot fastening the rope about my waist was well
-tied and started off. Max had good standing ground and could belay my
-rope securely. Once in the crack, the work began in earnest; a very
-real earnest indeed, as subsequent events proved. It was wider than
-Mummery’s crack, but not wide enough to allow me to get right inside
-it; with my left arm and shoulder and leg inside whilst right hand and
-boot scraped outside in search of hold, I slowly struggled and fought
-my way up. It was most exhausting work. Just below the summit I had to
-turn round and get my right shoulder and leg into the crack, and left
-leg and arm out;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> a change of position that was accomplished only after
-an almost desperate struggle which robbed me of breath and sapped my
-strength to such an extent that, when it came to swinging myself up
-over the flat, overhanging summit stone, I found myself unequal to the
-effort. I was powerless alike to retreat or advance. Max, however, who
-had never for a moment relaxed his attention to my movements, had noted
-my dilemma and, with a warning shout that he was coming, hastened to my
-assistance, armed with knapsack and ice-axe. With my left hand and my
-teeth I took in his rope as he climbed upwards. When his head was just
-below my feet, he stopped and jammed himself firmly into the fissure.
-With his head as a foothold and a prod from the axe, I received the
-extra ounce of steadying support that enabled me to complete the ascent
-and haul myself up to the safety of the flat table-like stone that is
-the distinguishing feature of the summit of the Grépon. As fast as my
-breathless state would permit, I pulled in the rope until it was taut
-between us; and a few minutes later, just before midday, Max was seated
-by my side.</p>
-
-<p>We were both rather puzzled and not a little humbled. The fierce
-tussle which the last crack had demanded, had provided something of a
-shock. If this were the sort of thing that most climbers of the Grépon
-called by no means excessively difficult and certainly easier than
-Mummery’s crack, then it would have to be admitted that rock-climbing
-had, indeed, its points, and that we were sadly in need of practice.
-A little later, however, the mystery was solved. Going over to the
-Nantillons side of the summit platform, with a view to glancing at
-the way down to the Col des Nantillons, I discovered a perfectly
-straightforward crack of no great length which ended on the easy ledge
-that we had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span> previously neglected to explore. There could be no doubt
-that we had taken the wrong way up the final summit pinnacle. Several
-months later, I learnt that this formidable crack was the famous Venetz
-crack, climbed but once before, and that in 1881, on the occasion of
-the first ascent of the mountain. To this day the only other ascent
-recorded was made in 1923 by a party led by <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> G. S. Bower. That no
-more than three ascents have been made in the course of thirty-two
-years is testimony enough to what this crack offers.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img258">
-<img src="images/img258.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The summit of the Grépon.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The Venetz crack is the dark cleft which ends under the flat stone
-on the summit.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 258.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Returning to Max, I imparted the reassuring news, but to heedless ears,
-for he proved far more interested in plying the usual inefficient
-pocket-knife edition of a tin-opener in an attempt to lay bare the
-luscious contents of a two-pound tin of Californian peaches. His
-efforts were too vigorous and determined for any tin to withstand for
-long, and we were soon enjoying a feast of peaches and Nestlé’s milk.
-The only thing lacking was snow which was sorely needed, not only to
-dilute the somewhat concentrated ingredients of our meal, but also
-to assuage the thirst that assailed us. After lunch, following our
-usual custom where time was of no vital importance, we settled down
-to sleep, not omitting, however, to secure the rope to the summit
-stone as a guard against the dangers of rolling out of bed. We found
-out later that these simple actions had been assiduously watched from
-Chamonix and gravely misconstrued by the many telescope owners who,
-while making petty fortunes, had been explaining to their clientèle
-of trippers that we were two mad young Englishmen who would certainly
-come to grief because we had with us no stalwart guides to ensure our
-safety. Now, on lying down to sleep, we suddenly disappeared from their
-view, and the rumour at once went round that we had fallen off the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span>
-summit! Two hours passed by without our reappearing, and the rumour
-had deepened into conviction; even one of our friends in Chamonix had
-begun to have fears for our safety. At 3 p.m. we awoke and began to
-prepare for the descent. This sudden resurrection put an end to the
-supposed tragedy, but henceforward we were not only <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fous</i> but
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">absolument fous</i>, for no self-respecting Chamoniard has any use
-for a mountain-top except to leave it as soon as is decently possible
-after gaining it. Personally I love to dally in such places as long
-as is compatible with safety. Memories of hours spent stretched out
-in half-somnolent ease on the great sun-kissed slabs of summits,
-in splendid isolation, with the blue vault of heaven above and the
-brown-green earth spread out below, are treasure beyond price,
-eternally one’s own and never to be lost, inviolate to the onslaughts
-of the getting, grabbing world.</p>
-
-<p>The descent on the Nantillons side of the summit was effected without
-difficulty, and landed us out on the previously neglected ledge close
-to a collection of rope slings indicative of the beginning of the
-next pitch. This proved to be a chimney some eighty feet long and
-seemingly quite unclimbable, at all events in its upper portion; the
-doubled rope, however, solved the problem as effectively as usual, and
-we found ourselves on a little platform at the top of an apparently
-almost unbroken series of huge precipitous slabs falling away to the
-Nantillons Glacier. To descend without an enormous amount of spare rope
-seemed out of the question, but, as the edge of the platform on which
-we stood was garnished with the bleached remains of two rope slings,
-we concluded that it was the usual way down. So Max held my rope and
-let me over the precipice. I descended quite a hundred feet, but no
-feasible way out revealed itself, and I had to go back. The return
-cost us both a stern effort,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> Max pulling in the rope while I lent him
-as much assistance as possible by making what use I could of the few
-available holds. Casting round for a way out of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">impasse</i>,
-we chanced upon a boot nail in the bed of a steep but short chimney
-leading up in the direction of the ridge. We immediately followed up
-this timely clue and gained the top of the chimney, to find, a few
-steps farther on, a simple and straightforward line of descent open out
-before us. The way led frequently over steep ground, but everywhere
-there was a profusion of holds and belays, and the rock still remained
-as firm and reliable as cast iron. At half-past four, the Col des
-Nantillons was under foot, and the acrobatic part of the day’s work was
-over. One could not help feeling that a baboon would have acquitted
-himself throughout with much more distinction than any of his human
-brothers.</p>
-
-<p>The remainder of the descent was accomplished without incident.
-The crevasses near the head of the Nantillons Glacier were readily
-negotiated, thanks to reliable snow bridges that obligingly provided a
-crossing at the very places one would have chosen oneself. Passing by
-the foot of the couloir leading to the Col Charmoz-Grépon, we picked
-up the axe and knapsack left there in the morning and then, swinging
-round to the left, hurried across the sérac-swept slopes to the great
-crevasse. The ladder was still in position, and soon we were on the
-little rock island, where the rope was taken off and stowed away.</p>
-
-<p>We had originally intended to make Chamonix that evening; but to do
-that now would entail hurry. It was our last day of a wonderful season
-of health and happiness-giving adventure in the Alps, and we were loth
-to leave the scene. To hasten from the midst of these great towers of
-silence and the white purity of the snows they nurse was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span> impossible.
-So we decided to pass the night at the Montanvert. Eager to retard
-the flight of our little season of freedom, we strolled downwards
-with lagging steps, pausing at whiles to drink in the glories of the
-mountains as the shades of night closed in upon them.</p>
-
-<p>That evening, after dinner, we sat together, somewhat heavy-hearted, on
-the hôtel terrace overlooking the Mer de Glace. The Grandes Jorasses
-and the Rôchefort ridge were dimly outlined against the starry heaven.
-The Charmoz and the Dru, dark, ghostly pillars almost piercing the
-skies, stood, as if on guard, at the portals of that great world of
-snow and ice-bound rock where we had found true happiness, and to which
-we were now to bid farewell for a space.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>It may be instructive to consider in how far a training in British
-rock-climbing will help or hinder the aspirant to high adventure in the
-Alps or any of the world’s greater mountain masses. To the uninitiated,
-mountaineering is the dangerous, foolhardy, yet withal praiseworthy
-sport of the superman, heroic of physique and nerve, who gaily struts
-along the brinks of, or nonchalantly hangs over, awesome precipices
-and, disregarding all moral obligations, continually and with careless
-smile fences with death. In short, the untutored idea superficially
-conceives of a mountain as a thing of dark, frowning, rocky glories—a
-natural stage on which a superior type of acrobat displays his muscular
-agility. And so the term “mountaineer” loses its dignity and becomes
-synonymous with that of “rock-climber.” But the “white domes of frozen
-air” exist outside the poetic imagination, and mountaineering is not
-a simple but a complex science, and the proficient mountaineer is not
-only a rock-climber, but a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span> snow-and-ice craftsman, an adept in the
-use of rope and axe, a pathfinder, something of a meteorologist, an
-organiser and, no less important, must have acquired the knowledge
-of how to conserve his energy, build up his powers of endurance
-and cultivate the proper mentality. To what extent can the various
-attributes of the composite being that is the true mountaineer be
-fostered amongst the crags and fells of the British Isles?</p>
-
-<p>From the geological point of view, the rocks of the Alps may be divided
-into two classes, namely silicious rock and calcareous rock. The
-mountaineer will further subdivide these two classes into good, bad
-or indifferent; thus, in all, the climber in the Alps meets with six
-different types of rock. These might be multiplied according to degree,
-but for our present purpose such meticulous treatment is needless. As
-a general rule, the rock-climber in the British Isles encounters only
-the good silicious class of rock. Other classes are to be met with,
-but a glance at the list of the more popular and outstanding climbs,
-such as those on Kern Knotts, the Pillar Rock, and Lliwedd, would seem
-to show that they are more or less avoided. In time, this one-sided
-training inculcates bad habits of which the climber does not even know
-himself guilty. Of the many types of rock met with in the Alps, the
-good silicious brand is the most rare; so that there the knowledge of
-the one form and the inexperience of the other forms of rock are likely
-to prove quite inadequate, indeed even dangerous, assets. A school that
-teaches one to master only the safe is no sufficient school for the
-would-be mountaineer, and the British-trained climber will soon find
-that he has much to learn of rock-climbing in the Alps.</p>
-
-<p>Again, stone avalanches are unknown in Britain. The only stones that
-fall there do so through human agency—the clumsy placing of a foot or
-hand, the careless use of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span> rope—and not through the working of
-the natural forces of sun and frost. When and where stone-falls may be
-expected to occur is part of the mountain lore that a mountaineer must
-acquire, and it will not be acquired, at first-hand at least, on the
-Cumbrian or Welsh hills.</p>
-
-<p>It is often reiterated that Great Britain provides climbs of a higher
-standard than do the Alps. Disregarding the obvious limitations of the
-former (not least of these being that in Great Britain almost all the
-difficult climbs are ascents, and difficult descents are neglected),
-and the fact that they are, as it were, at the back door of one’s
-hotel, whereas the latter are approached only after hours of hard and
-fatiguing preliminary work which robs one’s strength of its edge, I
-should like to make a few simple comparisons from my own experiences.
-One morning in July, 1913, I climbed Kern Knotts crack twice, first
-without the rope and alone, then roped and as leader. The niche was
-gained by the crack below; the useful chock-stone above the niche was
-missing. No shoulder was used. During the afternoon I climbed the
-Eagle’s Nest ridge which still ranks, I believe, as one of the most
-difficult of British rock ascents. On this climb I trailed behind me a
-hundred-foot length of half-inch diameter rope, one end of which was
-tied round my waist. Nailed boots were worn on all three climbs. I
-came to the conclusion that Kern Knotts crack is shorter, less steep,
-requires less skill and knack, and is altogether considerably less
-difficult than the famous Mummery crack on the Grépon. It will not for
-one moment bear comparison with the Venetz crack on the same peak. The
-Eagle’s Nest ridge, though very difficult, is undoubtedly less trying
-than the first buttress on the west ridge of the Bifertenstock.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img264">
-<img src="images/img264.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Photo A. I. I. Finch.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Good, sound rock.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 264.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>What are the opportunities in Great Britain for training in snow
-and ice-craft? I have met with only five different kinds of snow in
-the hills of these islands; and all were good from the mountaineer’s
-point of view. The snow was either cohesive or could be made to cohere.
-In the Alps I have taken notes of some of the characteristic features
-and properties of very many distinct types of snow, the majority of
-which called for the exercise of special caution in venturing upon the
-slopes on which they lay. Ice is rarely met with in Great Britain,
-and then never in sufficient quantity to necessitate the cutting, at
-the outside, of more than a few steps—poor practice indeed for the
-pitiless ice slopes of the east face of Monte Rosa. Avalanches and
-snow-shields are unknown here; in the Alps, especially in winter, and
-in the Himalayas at all times, one must be on one’s guard against such
-dangers. Ignorance in this respect has been the cause of some of the
-most deplorable of mountaineering accidents. Glaciers and crevasses are
-non-existent in Britain. In fine, as a training ground for snow and
-ice-craft, our homeland hills are useless. To assert what one does not
-know is a fairly universal human failing; and there are some British
-rock-climbers who contend that snow and ice-craft is no more difficult
-than rock-climbing. In reality there is not one of the big snow and
-ice expeditions of the Alps that does not represent a far more serious
-undertaking, physically and mentally, than the Grépon, Requin or any
-other of the better known “crack” rock-climbs. Not only does British
-rock-climbing fail to provide the beginner with practice in the use of
-the axe for sounding, step-cutting and belaying, but it also fails to
-teach him what is almost equally important—how to handle and carry
-the axe when it is not actually required. On ninety-nine out of every
-hundred scrambles at home the axe is left behind altogether.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span></p>
-
-<p>Moreover, in the use of the rope, non-Alpine and Alpine practices
-vary greatly. Owing to the shortness of climbs in Great Britain, time
-is immaterial. Parties move one man at a time. The leader climbs on
-ahead, free from the encumbrances of axe and knapsack, until he finds
-a suitable belay. The second man follows, likewise unencumbered, as
-the leader takes in the rope. The last man sometimes carries a light
-knapsack, though I myself have never seen it done, nor do the numerous
-pictures of British rock-climbing now before me show any trace of
-such impedimenta. Time is too valuable in the Alps to permit of such
-tactics except where the difficulties are considerable. In the case of
-almost any Alpine expedition, for more than half the time the members
-of a party are moving all together; and to be proficient in the use
-of the rope means that one must be able not only to move without its
-continually getting in the way, but also to look after it and keep
-it taut, so as to check a slip immediately, while actually climbing.
-Practice in this is necessarily limited in Great Britain. Hence it is
-no uncommon sight to see a party of British-trained rock-climbers on an
-easy Swiss rock peak, with the rope in loose, untidy coils, catching in
-jutting out rocks, dragging about loose stones and generally acting as
-a menace to safety. This abuse of the rope is, paradoxically enough,
-the outcome of the undeniable virtues of sure-footedness and steadiness
-that have been learned on the British crags. The fault does not lie in
-the climbers’ incapacity to keep the rope taut, but merely in that,
-trusting to their steadiness, they do not bother to do so. I have
-observed that many of those who err in the handling of the rope are as
-sure-footed as cats.</p>
-
-<p>Route-finding in the Alps, and still more so in the other great
-mountain groups of the world, is a matter of prime importance.
-Before embarking on an expedition in the Alps,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> the climber first
-makes his choice of mountain, and then, according to the degree of
-difficulty desired, chooses the face or ridge by which to gain the
-summit. This done, he brings all his knowledge of route-finding to
-bear upon the selection of the easiest and safest way up that face
-or ridge. Difficulties are avoided as much as possible. The adoption
-of bull-at-a-gate methods will lead to much loss of time; and time,
-of little consequence in England, is a factor to be reckoned with
-seriously in the Alps. Owing to the limited nature of climbs at
-home, the reverse practice is adopted. One is taught to look for
-difficulties, instead of avoiding them and seeking the line of least
-resistance; and the habit thus engrained is apt to persist when
-the British-trained rock-climber looks for adventure abroad. The
-corollaries are numerous. Those that most concern our purpose are
-that he learns on British crags only to a very limited degree how to
-conserve his energy, build up his powers of endurance or cultivate the
-proper mentality. All these things are acquired only in a school of
-hardships under physical and climatic conditions that are foreign to
-our islands.</p>
-
-<p>Once one accepts the fact that the difference between a mountain and
-a crag is not only one of scale, it will be readily acknowledged
-that he who disports himself on the latter has much to learn and,
-possibly, something to unlearn before he can become a mountaineer in
-the full sense of the word. How many of those who have begun their
-climbing in Great Britain have accomplished anything of note in real
-mountaineering? Rock-climbing is too liable to strangle any innate
-aptitude for mountaineering proper, and to restrict achievement in the
-wider craft to a level of dull mediocrity.</p>
-
-<p>For those whose ambitions do not soar beyond home, the crags and fells
-are a pleasurable playing ground where they may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> scramble to their
-hearts’ content; to those who have well served their apprenticeship in
-the wider and loftier playground of the Alps, the homeland hills will
-provide useful muscular exercise and plenty of healthy fun; but for
-the beginner who aims at being a true mountaineer, the only safe place
-within easy reach to learn the craft is the Alps.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>On the morning after our ascent of the Grépon, while waiting for the
-Chamonix train, Max and I were comparing with the reality M. Vallot’s
-well-known, panoramic sketch on the stone in front of the Montanvert.
-The first batch of the day’s sightseers had arrived, among them a tall,
-faultlessly garbed young lady, who approached and addressed us.</p>
-
-<p>“Say, are you mountaineers?”—evidently having come to the conclusion
-at the sight of our heavy hobnailed boots and rather tattered clothes.</p>
-
-<p>“Well—yes,” replied my brother. “At least, we have been doing some
-climbing.”</p>
-
-<p>Pointing to the Géant, she inquired:</p>
-
-<p>“Have you climbed that mountain?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes!”</p>
-
-<p>“And those?” indicating in turn each of the summits of the Rôchefort
-ridge.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes.”</p>
-
-<p>Finally, with outstretched finger towards the Dru and a note of
-challenge in her voice: “And that one?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” answered Max; adding, “we climbed it a few days ago.”</p>
-
-<p>Stepping a pace or two backwards, the tall, young lady very slowly, but
-distinctly, closed the conversation.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I guess I always knew you English were some story-tellers!”</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br />
-<span class="vsmall">THE AIGUILLE DU DRU</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">After</span> our border-line crossing of Mont Blanc, Max and I arrived at
-the Col du Géant on the evening of August 31, 1911. There we met a
-German climber armed with a letter of introduction from Martini, who
-had climbed the Zmutt ridge with us earlier in the season. As our new
-acquaintance considered ice-climbing to be a vicious and unpleasant
-way of indulging in the delights of the mountains, a traverse of
-the Dru was decided upon, in preference to the joys of step-cutting
-on the slippery slopes of the north face of the Verte. Accordingly,
-after sunrise on the following morning, we set out across the Géant
-Glacier towards the Montanvert. Max and I still felt the effects of
-our recent activities and were consequently inclined to take things
-rather easily. Before arriving at the top of the icefall, however,
-our friend’s protests against the slowness of the pace began to take
-effect and stung us into something that was very much the reverse of
-our previous lethargy, with the result that we worried a way through
-the broken icefall with quite a useful turn of speed. Well before
-arriving in the thick of the séracs, a puzzled and rather concerned
-expression had taken the place of the patronising though kindly smile
-with which our companion had blessed the previous labours of his two
-young associates. A little later, he fell a victim to the fact that the
-size of an ice-step is inversely proportional to the velocity of the
-party, and he lost his footing. The rope, however, sufficed to palliate
-the effects of the slip, but was quite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> unequal to the task of stemming
-the torrent of guttural language which condemned as reckless the speed
-which, after all, merely resulted from the granting of a request! After
-discarding the rope on the gentle slopes of the Mer de Glace, a normal
-rate of progress was once more reverted to, and, long ere arriving at
-the Montanvert, we had all recovered our equanimity.</p>
-
-<p>In the afternoon we left the Montanvert, with three days’ provisions
-and two one-hundred-foot ropes. Max and I, as usual, carried heavy
-knapsacks and consequently found the struggle with the moraines leading
-up towards the Charpoua hut both difficult and unpleasant. Our friend,
-however, bounded on far ahead with the agility of a two-year-old.</p>
-
-<p>We were pleasantly surprised to find that the hut was not in the dirty
-condition so characteristic of the majority of the club-huts in the
-Mont Blanc district, and that it also contained most of those little
-things which go so far towards making life pleasant after a harrowing
-and steep climb in the heat of the afternoon.</p>
-
-<p>At 4 a.m. next morning we left the hut, taking with us, in addition
-to our own two hundred feet of rope, an eighty-foot length belonging
-to the hut and kept there expressly for the use of climbers bound for
-the Dru, a stake of wood, and only two ice-axes. At 6 a.m., after
-having been held up by a rather lengthy bout of step-cutting across
-the head of the Charpoua Glacier, we gained the lower lip of the final
-bergschrund. This proved to be an extremely difficult customer to deal
-with, for the upper lip at its lowest point could only be surmounted
-by cutting up an exceedingly steep ice wall of about thirty feet in
-height. After the first fifteen feet, only one hand could be used for
-cutting, and the work became so severe that a rest was necessary after
-practically each step. Max and I took turns at the work, each doing
-a step whilst the other retired to the level floor of the schrund to
-rest and infuse fresh life into half-frozen fingers. At eight o’clock
-we gained the upper lip, but, deciding that too much time had been lost
-for us to be able to complete the climb that day without running the
-risk of a night out, we drove the wooden stake into the snow and, tying
-a doubled one-hundred-foot length of rope to it, retreated down the ice
-wall and joined our companion, whom we acquainted with our decision to
-retreat, then and there, to the hut.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img270">
-<img src="images/img270.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The bergschrund below the Dru.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">“This proved to be an extremely difficult customer....”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 270.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>No time was lost in preparing for the descent, as there was every
-evidence of the head of the Charpoua Glacier being much exposed to
-falling stones. My desire that Max, armed with an axe, should bring
-up the rear of the party was waived in deference to the wishes of
-our companion who assured us that he could hold both of us should
-occasion arise. The small, hastily-hewn steps of the morning had become
-partially effaced by the sun, and a considerable amount of work was
-required to renew them sufficiently well to afford secure footing. Max
-followed me, but after a few steps felt so insecure without an axe that
-he turned round and warned the last man on the rope to be prepared for
-a slip at any moment. Just as I was engaged in cutting a very large and
-deep step which would serve as a belay, I heard a shout from behind
-and, instinctively guessing that a slip had occurred, quickly braced
-myself as firmly as possible against the slope, with the pick end of
-my axe pressed well home against the ice. The jerk came, but it was
-only a mild one, and the strain was easily withstood. Thinking that
-the trouble had now been averted, I was about to look round, when a
-second and savage tug came which almost dragged me out of my steps.
-This is what had happened: Whilst I was engaged in cutting the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> large
-step, our companion had left the firm footing provided by the level
-floor of the bergschrund to make his way down towards Max. Max had then
-slipped, and the other had not only failed to hold him but was in his
-turn pulled out of his steps. The first pull on the rope was due to the
-checking of Max’s slip; the second, and far worse jerk was caused by
-our companion’s slip down the steep, icy slope for a distance of nearly
-a hundred feet before being held up by the rope. Incidentally, he also
-lost his grip upon his axe; fortunately, it slid down towards Max, who
-had the presence of mind to seize it. Thanks to this useful effort, the
-return of the errant members of the party to their steps was speedily
-effected. At half-past nine we were back at the hut and spent the
-remainder of the day in a series of repasts and sun baths on the great,
-rough, warm slabs near by.</p>
-
-<p>Towards sunset a French climber and two agreeable Chamonix guides
-arrived. Their intention was to traverse the Dru, starting with the
-little Dru first. The leading guide was inclined to be anxious about
-the condition of the bergschrund, but was quite relieved on hearing
-that we had left a stake embedded in the upper lip, which would enable
-them to rope down over the hindrance without difficulty. We also came
-to an agreement whereby axes were exchanged, they undertaking to leave
-our axes at the foot of the rocks of the little Dru, and we to leave
-theirs at the bergschrund on the way up to the big Dru. Thanks to this
-excellent arrangement, we were able to carry out this long rock climb
-without being encumbered by axes.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img42">
-<img src="images/img42.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Photo T. G. B. Forster.</i></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Where next?</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 272.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>On September 3, 1911, at 4 a.m., we roped and left the hut. I led,
-carrying a spare eighty-foot rope; Max followed, and our companion
-brought up the rear, Max and I both being firm believers in what is
-still often considered to be a heresy, namely, that on climbs of
-this sort the “unknown” element of the party should always be the last
-on the ascent, on the principle that it is easier for the dog to wag
-the tail than <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">vice versa</i>. Shortly after 5.30 a.m. the upper lip
-of the bergschrund was tackled and easily ascended by means of our
-fixed rope. While the process of cutting steps up the short, steep,
-final slope towards the rocks was going on, Max coiled up this rope
-and strapped it on to his knapsack. This brought the sum total of the
-party’s available rope up to two hundred and eighty feet. On arriving
-at the top of the slope, the problem confronted us as to how to gain a
-footing on the rocks, for a deep, unbridged chasm separated the snow
-from the latter. Finally, I was let down about twenty-five feet into
-the cavernous depths below, and by a pendulum process was able to
-swing across and obtain a somewhat precarious footing on the smooth
-rock. Climbing with no little difficulty up the ice-worn slabs until
-about thirty feet above the others, I found secure standing ground
-on a spacious platform. The others did not trouble to repeat these
-roundabout tactics, but swung straight across on the rope held by me
-and soon joined me on my perch. A few yards more of rather difficult
-climbing led to steep, but broken and easy rocks, over which rapid
-progress was made. Near by on the left, was the somewhat slabby couloir
-which leads down from the col situated immediately to the north of the
-Dru. None of the party had anything more than a very vague idea of the
-best route to be followed, beyond believing that it was unnecessary
-actually to reach this col before traversing to the left on to the
-rocks of the peak proper. We kept, therefore, a sharp look-out for the
-first possibility of crossing the couloir and taking to the rocks on
-the other side.</p>
-
-<p>About two hundred feet below the col such an opportunity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span> presented
-itself. We climbed across the couloir without much difficulty, and
-gained a narrow ledge leading round under an overhanging buttress
-towards the foot of a steep slab. The appearance of the latter
-was sufficiently forbidding to cause one to hesitate and wonder
-whether this could be, after all, the right way; but, as any further
-prospecting would have entailed loss of time, we decided to carry on
-in the hope that things might improve higher up. As a matter of fact,
-although it was not until almost a hundred feet of rope had been run
-out that safe standing ground was found, the ascent of the slab was
-by no means very difficult, even if somewhat sensational. Thence easy
-scrambling led to a broad and well-defined ledge, which seemed to
-run without break from the col to a point almost directly under the
-summit of the Dru. We followed this ledge without meeting with any set
-back. At one point it is interrupted by a deep cleft where we found a
-frayed rope, by means of which one could swing from one side to the
-other. This is evidently the spot known as “La Pendule.” The cleft
-can be crossed without overwhelming difficulty in several places by
-the ordinary methods of climbing, but there is no doubt that swinging
-across by means of the fixed rope does save time. The process, also,
-is quite an amusing one. At a short distance beyond “La Pendule” the
-ledge narrowed down, but at the same time the rocks towering above on
-our right became more and more broken and were furrowed by a series
-of chimneys leading in the direction of the summit ridge. Bearing up
-to the right, we came across an old wooden ladder, possibly a relic
-of Dent’s first ascent. Soon afterwards, on doubling back a few yards
-in the direction of the col, we arrived at the foot of a long and
-wicked-looking chimney, several steps of which appeared to overhang.
-A closer acquaintance with this obstacle, however, was reassuring.
-The chimney was long, and did overhang, but there was such a profusion
-of holds in the warm, firm rock that the ascent almost resembled
-the scaling of a ladder. Above the chimney, an easy scramble over
-huge, rough boulders and broken rocks led on to the ridge. On being
-rejoined by Max, I unroped and walked up over the ridge towards the two
-enormous rocky teeth which form the summit of the big Dru. An attempt
-to gain the summit of the higher tooth from the north failed, but, by
-traversing slightly downwards to the left, I reached the foot of a
-short gully leading up into the gap between the teeth. A few steps from
-this gap placed me on the summit at 10 a.m. The others soon joined me
-and ensconced themselves on the lower tooth, more room being available
-there than on my perch.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img274a">
-<img src="images/img274a.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone">“<i>La Pendule.</i>”</p>
-<p class="center small b2">“... one could swing from one side to the other.”</p>
-
-<p class="center bnone"><span class="figcenter" id="img274b">
-<img src="images/img274b.jpg" class="w50" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption pnone">“... <i>A rather steep ice slope—the Mur de la Côte</i>”</p>
-<p class="center small b2">(<i>p. 222</i>).</p>
-<p class="right50 small"><i>Facing page 274.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>The day was cloudless, and there was not a breath of wind. The view
-towards the northern slopes of the Aiguille sans Nom was striking. As
-if in warning and for our edification, a huge avalanche fell down these
-precipices whilst we were scanning them for a possible line of ascent.</p>
-
-<p>The actual summit rest was cut somewhat short owing to the cramped
-nature of the seating accommodation; but, on the almost level plateau
-from which the cliffs sweep down into the gap between the big and the
-little Dru, we discovered almost sufficient room for the laying out of
-a tennis court. After an unusually excellent, mountaineering apology
-for lunch, I set out to prospect for the best line of descent into
-the gap. At one point, almost directly in line with the two summits
-of the mountain and on the extreme edge of the plateau, there were a
-number of fixed coils of rope hanging round a jutting out rock; but on
-leaning as far forward over the precipice as was possible, it seemed
-to me extremely doubtful whether we had enough rope to enable us to
-descend in safety at this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span> point. Had Max and I been alone, we should
-doubtless have slid down the doubled rope without more ado; with a new
-companion, however, we had serious doubts as to the prudence of this
-method of procedure. It behoved me, therefore, to cast farther around
-for an alternative route where the individual roping down distances
-were not so great. We had heard vague rumours of the existence of a
-so-called “Z” route, but had no notion as to where to look for it.
-Prospecting in the direction of the Grandes Jorasses revealed nothing
-useful, and I turned my attention to that corner of the plateau from
-which the northern precipices of the mountain fall away. Here, a short,
-partially ice-clad gully revealed itself. Faint traces of steps were
-still clearly visible in the ice, and a conveniently-placed boulder
-had a new and serviceable looking sling fastened round it. Not quite
-satisfied that this was the beginning pitch of the sought-for “Z”
-route, I went back to fetch a rope and to enlist Max’s help in making
-a more intimate exploration of the chimney and its hidden secrets.
-Securely held by Max, I descended the gully for about fifty feet, and
-was then able, just before the gully faded away into thin air above one
-of the most appalling precipices I have ever looked down, to step over
-on to a small platform situated directly under a huge, overhanging nose
-of rock. Crossing this platform in a couple of steps, a clear view of
-the rocks leading down into the gap presented itself, and showed that
-one, or at most two, comparatively short descents on the doubled rope
-would solve any remaining difficulties.</p>
-
-<p>Returning to the foot of the gully, I yelled up the good news to Max,
-who went off to fetch our friend and the knapsacks. After sending down
-the latter to be stowed away on the platform, Max fixed a doubled rope
-to serve as an extra support for our friend’s descent of the chimney.
-Securely held by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span> Max’s sturdy grip, and with a little judicious
-pulling from below, he was soon down. Max followed, giving a perfect
-exhibition of how this sort of thing should be done, and was on the
-platform and pulling in the doubled rope almost before our comrade had
-realised that he was on terra firma. Twice again we repeated these
-roping down tactics over a series of steep slabs, which, however,
-could have been descended by ordinary methods of climbing without too
-much difficulty. After the last use of the doubled rope, I went on
-with a view to saving time by seeking out the rest of the descent into
-the gap. This lower part of the wall was easily negotiated by means
-of a series of well-defined ledges leading to a final short chimney
-immediately above the gap. After passing up this information to Max, I
-walked over the broad ridge built up of huge blocks of granite, towards
-the summit of the little Dru, and arrived there at 12.30 p.m., just as
-the party with whom we had exchanged axes earlier on in the morning
-were leaving for the big Dru. After carefully shepherding our companion
-down the last chimney above the gap, Max grew tired of slow and careful
-methods and completed the descent in great style by a bold glissade
-which landed him on all fours in a tangle of rope on the broad back of
-the gap—much to our concern, who mistook his voluntarily rapid descent
-for the result of a slip. A few minutes later we were reunited on the
-spacious and flat summit of the little Dru.</p>
-
-<p>The view I suppose must have been glorious, but, candidly, I remember
-little more than the sinking feeling caused by an inspection of the
-extraordinary precipices into which the mountain falls away to the
-north; and even this keen impression soon had its edge taken off by the
-enjoyment of the result of Max’s noble efforts with a tin of peaches,
-condensed milk and snow.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span></p>
-
-<p>At 2 p.m. the pleasant sojourn came to an end, and we embarked on the
-descent. The way down was shrouded in complete mystery though, on the
-whole, the general opinion of the party inclined to the view that
-a bee-line for the Montanvert would give the correct direction, at
-all events for the first part of the descent. In any case we felt no
-anxiety, for one can do much with plenty of rope. Accordingly, taking
-the Montanvert as the objective, we set off, and the fun began at
-once. Immediately after leaving the summit, we had to resort to the
-doubled rope in order to descend a long and steep chimney which ended
-on a ledge of most ungenerous proportions. Our friend here provided a
-little thrill. He was half-way down the chimney, with still practically
-forty feet to go, when something apparently went wrong, for he turned a
-somersault in mid-air and finished up the descent head downwards, with
-feet waving frantically in the air and his felt hat floating gracefully
-down over the precipices. Max had him secure on the climbing rope,
-however, and so he was never in any danger.</p>
-
-<p>It was almost impossible to obtain anything like a clear survey of
-the ground ahead, for the general steepness was certainly excessive,
-and numerous inconvenient bulges and overhangs hid far too much from
-view. After a short consultation, Max and I confessed to one another
-that neither liked the appearance of things in general, but as there
-were no eager volunteers for climbing back up the chimney that had
-just been roped down, it was decided that we should take the chances
-of carrying straight on. Steep chimney after steep chimney followed,
-and not only did we see no signs of previous descents or ascents, but
-the ground became increasingly difficult. Finally, when we had arrived
-at a point level with and slightly to the south of the enormous,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span>
-slate-grey patch below the summit, which is so prominent a feature
-of the Dru when seen from the Montanvert, all possibility of further
-descent seemed precluded, and we were forced to realise that the
-outlook was somewhat critical. To our left we could see the ridge
-over which the correct line of descent must certainly have led, and
-we were, therefore, faced with the question of either gaining this
-ridge by a most unwholesome-looking traverse, or by retreating back to
-the summit. The latter alternative could only be regarded as a very
-forlorn hope, and not to be attempted unless the traverse should prove
-impracticable. The chief drawback of the traverse was the fact that we
-would be able to give each other little or no help or support until the
-worst was over. However, it was no good wasting time in indecision. I
-have forgotten many of the details of the traverse, but at first it led
-across almost vertical slabs by means of the minutest of cracks and
-ledges. The climbing was most difficult and, owing to almost complete
-lack of belays, somewhat risky. But our companion rose brilliantly to
-the occasion and tackled the difficult and exposed slabs in a steady,
-sure-footed style and with a complete absence of nervousness. Before
-gaining the ridge, the work became less serious. Comparatively broad
-and broken ledges separated one tier of slabs from another, and easy
-ground finally led round on to the ridge at a well-marked step or
-depression a short distance below a prominent <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> which, I
-believe, is known in Chamonix as “le Poisson.”</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img43">
-<img src="images/img43.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>On the summit of the little Dru.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 278.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>It was now about 4.30 p.m., and much valuable time had been lost
-through this somewhat sensational variation of the descent. It was
-still far from easy, even on the ridge, to survey the further line of
-descent for any distance ahead. I therefore took off the rope and went
-on to prospect, leaving the others to follow. Several times I got on
-to the wrong<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span> track, but being alone and, therefore, climbing more
-rapidly, was able to rectify such errors before the other two arrived.
-Lower down, an <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">impasse</i> in the ridge, in the shape of a bold
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gendarme</i> followed by a clean and almost vertical cliff, held me
-up until Max’s arrival. The best means of circumventing the obstacle
-appeared to lie in the descent of a vertical chimney which bore a close
-resemblance to Mummery’s crack on the Grépon. It led to a platform on
-the northern side of the ridge. We fixed a double rope, and I proceeded
-down. A large chock-stone was jammed in about half-way down the
-chimney, but as there was no real necessity for making use of it as a
-hold, and as it could be easily avoided, I did not attempt to dislodge
-it, preferring to let sleeping dogs lie. I sent up word to the other
-two, however, to leave it alone lest it should prove to be dangerously
-loose. On arriving on the platform, I let go the doubled rope and,
-while the second man was preparing to descend, cast round for further
-means of escape. The only available route led along a narrow, sloping
-ledge running towards the ridge from a point about four feet below the
-edge of the platform on which I stood. With the greatest care, most
-emphatically urged upon me by the sheerness and depth of the precipices
-below, I lowered myself on to the ledge, still retaining a grip in the
-numerous small cracks with which the platform was fissured. By taking a
-couple of steps and leaning well outwards, it was possible to see round
-and beyond an intervening corner of rock towards easy, though exposed,
-ground over which the ridge could be regained. Before climbing farther,
-I looked up towards Max to give him this information. Our companion was
-nearly half-way down the chimney and almost level with the chock-stone.
-I was just repeating my warning not to make use of this possibly
-insecure hold, when it came hurtling down through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span> space and, crashing
-on to the ledge, broke into two pieces. One of them, in bounding out
-over the precipice, narrowly missed my head, but the other was more
-perfect in its aim and dealt me a clean, knock-out blow on the chest.
-The shock caused me to lose hold with my left foot and hand. By means
-of the kind of effort that one is able to exert when it comes to making
-a bid for life, I was otherwise able to retain my balance. I struggled
-on to the platform and lay there absolutely winded, totally unable to
-answer any inquiries.</p>
-
-<p>The rest of the route down the ridge promised to be less complicated.
-Our companion descended first, whilst I, still sorrowing over bruised
-ribs, was tied in the middle of the rope and tenderly nursed off the
-platform and round the ledge. Our original order of march was, however,
-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pour cause</i>, soon reverted to. But the day’s troubles were nearly
-over. An opportunity of descending from the ridge towards the Charpoua
-Glacier revealed itself, and, scrambling over huge glacier-worn slabs
-broken up by numerous ledges and chimneys, we presently arrived at the
-point, a few feet above the ice, where the other party had left our
-axes.</p>
-
-<p>Of the French climbers we could as yet see nothing, but surmised that
-they must by now be somewhere in the neighbourhood of the bergschrund
-at the head of the Charpoua Glacier. While we were speculating as to
-their exact whereabouts, a tremendous avalanche of stones plunged down
-from the direction of the Pic sans Nom, swept the rocks immediately
-above the bergschrund, and crashed over this and the upper slopes of
-the Charpoua Glacier towards the icefall below which we stood. So great
-was the volume and impetus of this avalanche, that for some moments
-we expected to see the stones fall even beyond our standpoint. Having
-the gravest fears as to the safety of the other party, we gave vent to
-a series of hefty yells, and were finally reassured by a faint reply<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span>
-coming from the rocks just above those over which the avalanche had
-swept. In continuation of their good fortune, this party later on
-found that our axes and the stake of wood, that we had driven into the
-snow above the bergschrund, had not been touched by any of the falling
-stones, though several had gone very near.</p>
-
-<p>The sun had set, and, as we were without a lantern, there was no time
-to be lost in crossing the glacier. The unfriendly, threatening aspect
-of the séracs, below which we threaded our way between numerous blocks
-of ice and crevasses, also urged the necessity for speed. Once on the
-far side of the glacier, the danger from falling ice was past, and a
-brief ascent over a diminutive bergschrund and gentle snow slope led
-on to the summit of the hump that separates the two tongues of the
-Charpoua Glacier, and upon which, somewhat lower down, stands the
-Charpoua hut. Shortly after 7 p.m., we entered the welcome refuge.</p>
-
-<p>The other party rolled up soon after 8 p.m. Lured on towards the
-Montanvert by visions of civilised luxury and comfort, they hardly
-found time to gulp down the cups of tea we proffered. But the visions
-proved false, for the local knowledge and lanterns of the guides
-fizzled out in the midst of the maze of crevasses of the Mer de Glace,
-and it was not until daybreak that they entered the Montanvert.</p>
-
-<p>We, on the other hand, slept soundly, and in the fresh hours of morning
-strolled over to the Montanvert, where we arrived in good time for
-lunch.</p>
-
-<p>As a climb, the traverse of the Dru is magnificent. Unlike the Grépon
-or the Requin, the Aiguille du Dru is every inch a mountain. The rock
-varies from bad to good; to get to the rock, good ice work is called
-for; and the route-finding is far from simple. Though essentially
-regarded only as a rock-climb, it is really an all-round, first-class
-expedition.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br />
-<span class="vsmall">TOWARDS MOUNT EVEREST</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">“To</span> make a determined effort, with every available resource, to reach
-the summit” were the instructions with which the 1922 Mount Everest
-expedition left England. The personnel was as follows:—</p>
-
-<table class="onleft">
-<tr>
-<td colspan="3">Brigadier-General the <abbr title="honorable">Hon.</abbr> C. G. Bruce, <abbr title="Companion of the Bath">C.B.</abbr>, <abbr title="Member of the Royal Victorian Order">M.V.O.</abbr>,
-commander-in-chief;
-</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td colspan="3">
-Lieut.-Colonel E. L. Strutt, <abbr title="Distinguished Service Order">D.S.O.</abbr>, second-in-command;
-</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td colspan="3">
-<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> T. G. Longstaff, <abbr title="Medical Doctor">M.D.</abbr>, chief medical officer and naturalist;
-</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td colspan="3">
-<abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> A. W. Wakefield, medical officer;
-</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td>
-  Captain J. G. Bruce, <abbr title="Military Cross">M.C.</abbr> (a cousin of General Bruce),
-  <p style="text-indent:0em;"><abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Crawford, I.C.S., and </p>
-  <p style="text-indent:0em;">Captain Morris,</p>
-</td>
-<td class="bracket">}</td>
-<td>transport officers; and</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td colspan="3">
-Captain J. B. Noel, official photographer and kinematographer.
-</td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>The climbing party consisted of <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> G. H. Leigh-Mallory, Major H.
-Morshead, Major E. F. Norton, who was also artist and naturalist, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>
-T. H. Somervell, also artist and medical officer, and myself, also
-in charge of the oxygen equipment and responsible for its use on the
-mountain. We had, in addition, four Ghurka non-commissioned officers,
-a Tibetan interpreter by name Karma Paul, and about fifty Nepalese
-porters and camp cooks.</p>
-
-<p>The party assembled in Darjeeling, and two detachments<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> moved off
-towards the end of March to a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rendezvous</i> at Phari Dzong, the
-first considerable village on the line of march through Tibet proper.
-The third detachment, consisting of Crawford and myself, had to remain
-behind in Darjeeling to await the arrival of the belated oxygen
-cylinders. It was not until April 2, a week later, that the apparatus
-turned up, and we were able to proceed on our way.</p>
-
-<p>Our route lay through the independent state of Sikkim, at first a
-country of sub-tropical, or even tropical climate and luxuriant jungle
-vegetation. Cool, shady, woodland streams and pools provided welcome
-interludes in the hot and often dusty journeys. From the day we left
-Darjeeling, I took photographs of scenes and happenings and did my
-developing at the end of each day’s march. As I had to keep within a
-definite baggage allowance, my photographic outfit was of the simplest.
-It comprised a quarter-plate, roll-film camera fitted with a Zeiss
-Tessar lens, a vest-pocket Kodak, two Kodak daylight developing tanks
-with the requisite developer and fixing powders, and spools, sufficient
-for fifteen hundred exposures, sealed in air-tight tins. Simple though
-the equipment was, it meant my having to do without certain luxuries;
-but I have always considered the sacrifice well worth the while, as the
-photographic results obtained were, on the whole, pleasing.</p>
-
-<p>Already on the third march out from Darjeeling, an ominous rattling was
-heard coming from the boxes containing the oxygen cylinders. At the
-first opportunity, the mules were off-loaded and the boxes opened, a
-rather lengthy proceeding as we had no tools save our pocket-knives.
-An examination of the contents showed that, even in this short space
-of time, the rubbing of the cylinders against each other had caused an
-appreciable amount of wear and tear—a state of affairs that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span> called
-for immediate remedy. Otherwise, sooner or later, a cylinder would have
-been weakened to such an extent as to be able no longer to withstand
-the pressure of the gas it contained; and the resulting explosion,
-apart from the possibility of its leading to loss of, or injury to,
-personnel, would have completely discredited oxygen which was already
-by no means universally favoured by the members of the expedition.
-Fortunately, we were able to purchase a large supply of string and
-cloth which we wrapped round the cylinders. These were then repacked
-in their boxes in such a manner that metal could not come into contact
-with metal.</p>
-
-<p>On April 8, in a snowstorm, we crossed the Jelep la, the lofty pass
-on the boundary between Sikkim and Tibet, and that evening arrived at
-the dâk bungalow at Yatung at the entrance to the Chumbi Valley, where
-we passed our first night in Tibet. At the bungalow, we met the late
-Sir Henry Hayden and his guide, César Cosson (who lost their lives
-on the Finsteraarhorn in the Bernese Oberland in August, 1923). Like
-ourselves, they were bound for the interior. Crawford and I continued
-our journey on the following day, anxious to push on and try to catch
-up the main body of the expedition; and, on arriving at Phari Dzong on
-the 10th, we learned that they were only three marches ahead. After
-three more days of hard marching across those vast, arid Tibetan
-plains, through intense cold and in the teeth of a wind that whipped up
-clouds of dust and sand into our faces, we rejoined our companions at
-Kampa Dzong. On the first night out from Phari we camped in the open.
-On the second, the nuns of the Buddhist convent of Ta-tsang afforded
-us hospitality. Crawford and I passed the night in the roofless temple
-chamber. Some of the nuns spread out my sleeping-bag on the altar,
-and there I slept, awakened occasionally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span> by the cold. A brilliant
-moon shone down and lit up my weird abode. The dessicated remains of
-a magnificent billy-goat hanging above the altar grinned down at me,
-and prayer wheels surrounded me on every side. Next day, the 13th, we
-were in camp at Kampa Dzong. In view of our somewhat travel-stained
-appearance, the General decided to postpone the departure of the
-expedition until the 15th, and so afford us a much-needed rest. Since
-leaving Darjeeling, we had been marching hard without a single off-day.</p>
-
-<p>From Kampa Dzong onwards, the yak replaced the mule as our transport
-animal, owing to the difficulty of providing suitable fodder for the
-latter. What the camel is to the desert, the yak is to Tibet—an animal
-indispensable for human life in the country. The yak’s chief form of
-nourishment is a very coarse grass, which grows in the marshy bottoms
-of the valleys fed by the streams that flow down from the northern
-slopes of the Himalayas. He relishes and thrives on this fodder which
-apparently no other animal can palate. In appearance, the yak is a
-hefty, beefy animal, somewhat resembling the Indian buffalo; but he
-has a coat of long, shaggy wool to protect him against the cold and
-wind. The Tibetans, who are forbidden by their religion to take the
-life of wild animals, are permitted to slaughter domestic animals for
-food. Thus the yak, in addition to being the national beast of burden,
-supplies the inhabitants of the country with milk, butter, cheese,
-meat, leather, wool and, last but not least, provides them, in the
-almost complete absence of trees, with their staple fuel, dried yak
-dung.</p>
-
-<p>The pace of the mules was about four miles an hour, but that of the
-yak is a most moderate one of less than two. To hustle a yak serves
-no useful purpose; he simply gets annoyed, and proceeds to throw off
-his load preparatory to running<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span> amok; and anything a yak does is
-very thoroughly done. The proper way to drive yaks seems to be to let
-them open out into extended order, line abreast, with the drivers
-walking behind. While on the march, it is up to the drivers to whistle
-soft, lullaby airs. If for lack of moisture on the lips or for lack
-of breath, the whistling should cease for any length of time, the
-yak objects and there is usually trouble. When treated in conformity
-with his wishes, however, the yak proves a most reliable transport
-animal, capable of carrying heavy loads for as much as ten to twelve
-hours on end at his normal, steady pace, irrespective of the nature or
-difficulty of the ground. When he comes to a river, he does not wait to
-be off-loaded, but plunges in without hesitation and wades across as if
-in his element.</p>
-
-<p>Owing to the difficulty of obtaining a sufficient supply of yaks for
-such a large caravan as ours, some of our baggage was carried by
-donkeys. These little animals were extraordinarily game and tough,
-but on one occasion, when our way lay across an extensive area of
-quicksands, the nature of the ground had them thoroughly beat. With
-their tiny hooves, the poor little donkeys would, at almost every step,
-sink deeply into the quagmire; sometimes so deeply that little more
-than nostrils, eyes, ears and tail remained above the slime. In such
-cases the customary procedure was as follows: first of all, the loads
-were removed, after which three drivers stationed themselves at all
-three corners of the donkey, one at each ear and the third at the tail.
-Then it was simply a case of heave-ho! until the animal emerged with a
-noise resembling that of the withdrawing of a cork from a bottle.</p>
-
-<p>From the European point of view the Tibetans have one great failing
-which might well, considering the rigorous climatic conditions, be
-deemed both excusable and incurable.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span> If one ever wishes to talk with a
-Tibetan, it is advisable to stand on his windward side. A noble Tibetan
-informed me with great pride that he had had two baths, one on the day
-of his birth and the other on the day of his wedding. Having neglected
-to take the elementary precaution, I found it somewhat hard to credit
-his statement. In this matter of physical cleanliness, the Tibetan
-priests are even worse offenders than the laity; doubtless because
-they do not marry. As two-fifths of the able-bodied population of the
-country follow a religious calling, it will be readily understood that
-the odour of sanctity is all-pervading. Only once did I see a Tibetan
-having a bath. It was at Shekar Dzong, on the return journey from Mount
-Everest. The day was bright and sunny and all but windless. Disporting
-himself in the waters of a pool, quite close to the village, was a
-Tibetan boy, stark naked. An interested crowd of his fellow-countrymen
-looked on. On closer investigation it transpired that the boy was the
-village idiot and, therefore, hardly responsible for his actions.
-I would, in fairness, add that during our sojourn in Tibet our own
-ablutions, when judged by western standards, were by no means too
-thorough. We usually limited ourselves to washing the head and the arms
-as far as the elbows. The tooth brush was, of course, plied regularly
-by all and sundry, and it was this operation and that of shaving
-that afforded most amusement to the Tibetan onlookers who invariably
-supervised our morning toilet.</p>
-
-<p>Apart from their one rather penetrating drawback, the Tibetans are
-a most likeable people. Their love for and pride in their country,
-harsh though it is, is great and sincere. They are cheerful and
-good-humoured, keen and willing workers, honourable in carrying out
-their bargains and scrupulously honest. During our travels in Tibet,
-though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> we did not bother to keep close guard over all our stores and
-belongings, we never lost so much as a single ration biscuit through
-theft. They are most kind to their children. Unlike so many Europeans,
-they do not make the mistake of talking down to them; but, from the
-time their children can speak, they are treated with much the same
-deference as is shown to grown-ups. The priests form the ruling class
-in the country and are also the educated class, the monasteries and
-similar priestly institutions being the seats of learning. The religion
-of Tibet is Buddhism.</p>
-
-<p>We had the good fortune to meet with a Tibetan soldier, resplendent
-in a Ghurka hat and a bandolier of beautifully polished ammunition
-which actually fitted the obsolete pattern of British rifle he so
-proudly sported. Some of the cartridges were innocent of powder, and
-the condition of many of the percussion caps was such as to guarantee
-misfires. A fine, handsome figure of a man, he was, like all his
-fellow-countrymen, courteous and friendly. War, a great war, was being
-waged between Tibet and China, but he was now on his way home to look
-after his crops. The Chinaman also had crops to tend; but in the
-autumn, when the harvest had been safely gathered in, he and his enemy
-were to meet once more and continue the warfare. An ideal arrangement!</p>
-
-<p>To the average layman, the oxygen apparatus with which we were
-supplied was perhaps slightly complicated. Being responsible both for
-the apparatus and for seeing that all the climbing members of the
-expedition were conversant with its use, I instituted a series of
-oxygen drills. These drills were deservedly popular, being held, as a
-rule, each evening at the end of a long day’s march, when everybody was
-feeling particularly fit and vigorous.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span></p>
-
-<p>On the 24th, we arrived at Shekar Dzong, the largest village we
-visited in Tibet. Indeed, one might almost dignify it by the name of
-“town,” with its four thousand inhabitants living in the clusters of
-white-walled houses that cling to the steep sides of a rocky pinnacle
-rising out of the plain. Here, owing to the necessity for changing
-the transport animals, we were forced to rest for several days. It
-is not to be supposed that such rest meant idleness. The General was
-particularly busy interviewing the Jongpen, that is, governor, of
-Shekar Dzong, regarding transport arrangements for the next stage of
-the journey to the Base Camp at the foot of Everest. The transport
-officers were kept busy taking stock of kit and stores. After attending
-to the minor ills and ailments of the European and Indian members of
-the expedition, the medical officers, headed by <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Longstaff, busied
-themselves in strengthening the bonds of friendship between Tibet and
-Great Britain by ministering to the needs of sick Tibetans. Apart
-from the daily oxygen drill which never lasted very long, my time was
-practically my own and was spent for the most part on photography and
-sight-seeing.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img290a">
-<img src="images/img290a.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>On the first day out from Phari Dzong.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The mountain is Chomulhari (24,400 feet).</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img290b">
-<img src="images/img290b.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Shekar Dzong.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 290.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>We left Shekar Dzong on April 27, and two days later crossed the Pangla
-Pass, about 17,000 feet in height, whence we obtained a good view of
-Mount Everest and the neighbouring peaks. Everest towered head and
-shoulders above its surroundings, a dark, irregular, forbidding-looking
-rocky pyramid. I have never seen the mountain to better advantage. On
-the 30th we pitched camp in the Rongbuk Valley, at the head of which
-Everest stands. Hard by the camp was a large monastery presided over
-by a very venerable old abbot who received us in audience. He was of
-a lively and intelligent curiosity and asked many questions. Why were
-we so eager to get to the summit of Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of
-Snows? For so the Tibetans beautifully name this highest of mountains.
-Why spend so much money, endure hardships, and face the dangers he
-was sure had to be faced, merely for the sake of standing on the top
-of this loftiest of great peaks? General Bruce, as usual, rose to the
-occasion and explained with quite undeniable logic that, as the summit
-of Everest is the highest point on earth, so is it the nearest point on
-earth to heaven; and was it not meet that we should desire to approach
-as closely as possible to heaven during our lifetime? This explanation,
-which contains much more than a germ of the truth, satisfied the
-reverend old gentleman completely. Henceforward he did everything
-within his very wide powers to further the interests of the expedition.</p>
-
-<p>The next day’s march was destined to be our last towards the Base Camp,
-the position of which was determined by its being the point beyond
-which we could make no further progress with animal transport. A short
-distance below the end of the Rongbuk Glacier which flows down from
-Mount Everest into the valley, our tents were pitched (May 1) on a
-little level patch of ground close under the steep slopes of a moraine.
-We had fondly hoped that this moraine would shelter our camp from the
-wind. But later, bitter experience was to teach us that the wind blows
-not only up and down and across the Rongbuk Valley, but in any and all
-other directions that perversity can make possible. I have always felt
-rather sorry for the General, who spent the next seven weeks of his
-existence at the Base Camp. He, indeed, knew something about wind by
-the time his stay had come to an end.</p>
-
-<p>No time was to be lost on arriving at the Base Camp, for the East
-Rongbuk Glacier, over which the North Col, the real starting-point of
-the climb on Everest itself, was to be approached, had not yet been
-explored. On May 2, Colonel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span> Strutt, Norton and I went up into this
-valley and, quite close to the end of the glacier, selected a suitable
-site for a first advanced camp. This first brief reconnaissance was
-followed by a lengthier one carried out by Longstaff, Morshead and
-Norton under the leadership of Colonel Strutt. This party successfully
-explored the hitherto unknown regions of the East Rongbuk Glacier for
-a suitable way up into the great bay that lies at the head of the
-glacier and is enclosed by Mount Everest, the North Col and the North
-Peak. They also selected suitable sites for the more advanced camps.
-It was found necessary to pitch three such camps between the Base and
-the North Col. They were known as Camp I (17,500 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), Camp II (19,500
-<abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), and Camp III (21,000 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), and soon the transport officers with
-the porters were busy establishing and provisioning them.</p>
-
-<p>For the time being I remained at the Base. A mild form of dysentery,
-which had at one time or another claimed as its victims most of the
-other members of the expedition, now took hold of me, and I was some
-days in shaking off its effects. By May 10, the work on the advanced
-camps had progressed so well that Mallory and Somervell were able to
-leave the Base in order to establish a camp on the North Col, and to
-make an attempt to climb Everest without the use of oxygen.</p>
-
-<p>It may be wondered why, in view of our instructions, oxygen was not
-to be employed. One body of scientific opinion was most emphatic in
-its view that without the assistance of a supply of oxygen carried
-by the climbers it would be impossible to reach the summit of Mount
-Everest. Scientists, however, do not always agree amongst themselves.
-An almost equally strong body of scientific opinion declared that the
-weight of any useful supply of oxygen carried by the climbers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span> would
-be so great as to counterbalance any advantages that might accrue
-from the oxygen itself, and that, therefore, oxygen would not only
-not be of assistance, but would actually be a grave hindrance to the
-climber. Perhaps I may anticipate here by stating that the second
-attempt on Everest in 1922 disproved beyond all shadow of doubt the
-tenets of the second body of opinion, and, what is more important,
-proved no less conclusively that Everest can positively be climbed
-by men carrying a suitable supply of oxygen. So far we have no like
-positive confirmation, either from climbing experience or scientific
-research, of the possibility of attaining the summit of Everest
-without oxygen. Personally I feel certain it never will be climbed
-without oxygen. But there existed another force of oxygen antagonists,
-largely unscientific, who were willing enough to admit that oxygen
-might, indeed, have its uses, but condemned it on the ground that
-its employment was unsporting and, therefore, un-British. The line
-of reasoning of these anti-oxygenists is somewhat hard to follow,
-and is inconsistent with their adoption of other scientific measures
-which render mountaineering less exacting to the human frame. For
-instance, they do not hesitate to conserve their animal heat by wearing
-specially warm clothing; they do not deny the “legitimacy,” from the
-mountaineering point of view, of the thermos flask; they fear no
-adverse criticism when they doctor up their insides with special heat
-and energy-giving foods and stimulants; from the sun’s ultra-violet
-rays and the wind’s bitter cold they do not scruple to protect their
-eyes by wearing Crookes’ anti-glare glasses; even the use of caffeïne
-to supply a little more “buck” to a worn-out body is not cavilled at.
-In fine, it may justly be supposed that if science could only provide
-oxygen in the form of tablets, the words “artificial,” “illegitimate,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span>
-“unsportsmanlike,” or “un-British” would no longer be applicable to its
-use as an aid to climbing Everest. It was written on high authority,
-and I read a copy of the article in question at the Base Camp, that
-“this (the possible failure of the climbers to tolerate the restraint
-of the oxygen apparatus) would be a good thing, because it seems to us
-quite as important to discover how high a man can climb without oxygen
-as to get to a specified point, even the highest summit of the world,
-in conditions so artificial that they can never become ‘legitimate’
-mountaineering.” This sentence may be taken as indicative of the change
-in objective which was now becoming apparent amongst the members of the
-expedition. Instead of the aim being to climb Mount Everest with every
-resource at our disposal, the opponents of oxygen, of whom the writer
-of the above quotation presumably is, or was, one, had so successfully
-worked upon the minds of the members of the expedition as to induce
-them to entertain a fresh objective, namely to see how far they could
-climb without the aid of oxygen. It were pleasant to think that the
-writer who could thus acclaim possible failure and, in advocating a new
-objective, destroy the singleness of purpose of the expedition, was not
-a mountaineer. And so it came about that, by the time we reached the
-Base Camp, I found myself almost alone in my faith in oxygen. It is
-true that I had had the advantage of personal teaching from Professor
-Dreyer who had demonstrated, by experiments carried out upon myself,
-what a powerful weapon oxygen could be when rightly used. This faith in
-the lessons of my genial master was fully justified by later events.
-But “faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers”; in the mountains,
-the tragedy is that the odds are generally on the “unfaith.” It has
-been suggested that a keen sense of rivalry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> existed between the
-exponents of climbing with and without oxygen. As far as I am aware,
-this was not so. Despite conflicting ideas on this subject, complete
-harmony of feeling prevailed amongst us—too valuable a thing to be
-disturbed by the friction into which, under the circumstances, a sense
-of rivalry might well have degenerated.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img44">
-<img src="images/img44.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Mount Everest and the Base Camp.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img45">
-<img src="images/img45.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Camp II.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 294.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>However, it was arranged that, after Mallory and Somervell had made
-their attack, a second attempt should be carried out by Norton and
-myself. But a few days later, on May 14, Strutt, Morshead and Norton
-left to join up with Mallory and Somervell to make an onslaught in
-force, but without oxygen. Hitherto, I had been sanguine in the extreme
-about getting to the top, but when I saw the last mountaineers of the
-expedition leave the Base Camp, my hopes fell low. Any attempt I could
-now make upon Mount Everest would have to be carried out with untrained
-climbers as my companions; for I felt certain that, before they could
-be fit for another assault, the men of the first party would require,
-not merely a few days, but weeks, to recuperate from the effects of
-their initial effort.</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br />
-<span class="vsmall">MOUNT EVEREST</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">During</span> my stay at the Base Camp my time was not really wasted. A
-study of Everest and of its meteorological conditions, photography,
-overhauling of equipment and experiments with oxygen kept me fully
-occupied.</p>
-
-<p>I wonder why it is that so many mountain travellers seem to lose all
-sense of proportion when they behold for the first time hitherto
-unknown ranges and peaks. Perhaps it is that they do not happen to
-possess the critical faculty of abiding by facts, and tend to describe
-what they expect rather than what they see. Whatever the reason, the
-ugliest, sometimes even the most insignificant of sights, provided
-it be but strange or novel, induces their pen to trail along in a
-pæon of praise, and the new mountain vision is elevated to all that
-is awe-inspiring, magnificent, beautiful, far excelling any mountain
-hitherto known to man. Thus we find that earlier explorers of Mount
-Everest have enhanced its wonders out of all proportion to the reality.
-It is as if its quality of height, the mere fact that Mount Everest
-is over 29,000 feet in altitude and the highest mountain in the
-world, has prejudiced their judgment of its other qualities. A closer
-analysis of this very question of height may prove edifying. A mountain
-has two heights, absolute and relative. The former represents its
-altitude above sea-level, the latter its height above the immediate
-surroundings, and is really the only altitude with which the eye can
-be concerned. It is only when mountains rise from the sea, as they do
-in Corsica,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> that absolute and relative altitudes are one and the same
-thing. 29,002 feet is the accepted absolute altitude of Mount Everest;
-the relative altitude, that is, the actual height that presents itself
-to the eye of the beholder, is arrived at by deducting some 16,500
-to 17,000 feet. The suggestion frequently made to me that the sight
-of Mount Everest must dwarf into insignificance anything I have ever
-seen in the Alps, has invariably met with my decided denial. When seen
-from the north—the only aspect of the mountain with which we of the
-recent expedition are acquainted—Mount Everest appears as an uncouth,
-well-nigh shapeless mass partially blocking the end of the Rongbuk
-Valley, itself surely one of the most formless and ugly of mountain
-valleys. The impression of the grand or the prodigious which the view
-of a mountain makes upon one depends largely on the height to which the
-summit rears itself above the lower limit of its glaciers or eternal
-snows. Mont Blanc is nearly 16,000 feet high, and its glaciers descend
-to within 4,000 feet of sea-level—a vertical zone of nearly 12,000
-feet of perpetual ice and snow. On the north, Mount Everest rises to a
-height of 12,500 feet above the Base Camp, which was situated a little
-below the end of the Rongbuk Glacier—a vertical zone of 12,500 feet of
-perpetual ice and snow. From the point of view of extent to which it
-is glaciated, therefore, Mont Blanc suffers little when compared with
-Everest. But the distance between the observer and the object observed
-is a determining factor in the impression of size and grandeur which a
-mountain picture leaves on the mind. Mont Blanc can be seen in all its
-magnificence at a distance of some five to six miles. On its northern
-side, Mount Everest can most advantageously be seen from the Base
-Camp, eleven miles away. Thus, when no scale of absolute measurement
-is present, Mont Blanc<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span> appears nearly twice as huge to the eye as
-Mount Everest. So much for “prodigiousness” or “grandeur.” From the
-point of view of beauty, there can be no comparison between the two
-mountains. Mont Blanc, seen from the north, is a wonderful, glistening
-mass of snowy domes, piled one against the other in ever-increasing
-altitude to a beautifully-proportioned and well-balanced whole. No
-beauty or symmetry of form can be read out of the ponderous, ungainly,
-ill-proportioned lump whose horizontal stratification lines produce
-an appearance of almost comical squatness and which carries, as if
-by accident, on its western extremity a little carelessly truncated
-cone to serve as a summit. For such is Mount Everest as seen from
-the Base Camp. This infelicity of form is further forced upon the
-eye by the fact that it is far from being shared by all the other
-mountains surrounding the head of the Rongbuk Valley. One of these,
-indeed, though only about 21,000 feet in height, presented its snowy
-northern flank to the gaze of the observer at the Base Camp; and in
-the delicately moulded flutings and folds of its tremendously abrupt
-snow slopes was contained such beauty, such magnificence, and such
-dainty grace of symmetry and poise as I have seldom, if ever, seen in a
-mountain.</p>
-
-<p>It goes without saying that the weather was a thing most anxiously
-inquired into by all members of the expedition. During my fifteen
-days at the Base, I lost no opportunity of studying its vagaries and
-attempting to assign meanings to the different portents. During the
-entire month of May, there were only two fine days, and those were
-separated from each other by a wide interval of time. Both succeeded
-heavy snowstorms which had whitened the rocks of Mount Everest. In
-applying the term “fine weather” in the case of these mountain regions,
-it is necessary to be somewhat more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> critical than one would ordinarily
-be in the Alps, where cloudless sky almost invariably means favourable
-weather. In the case of Mount Everest, it is essential not only that
-the sky be more or less cloudless, but that the force of the wind be so
-small as to be insufficient to blow up and tear away streamers of snow
-dust from the ridges. These streamers betoken the presence of a wind of
-such strength that it cannot but seriously handicap the climber.</p>
-
-<p>On the last stage of the journey, from Shekar Dzong to the Base Camp,
-the developing of the photographs I had taken <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i> had
-fallen into arrears, and I now endeavoured to make these good. In
-spite of the simple methods adopted, developing was not always an easy
-matter. During development of the films, the solutions contained in
-the tanks had to be maintained at the proper temperature. Often the
-only way to accomplish this was to retire into one’s sleeping-bag with
-the tin or tins, as the case might be, as bed-fellows. The washing of
-the fixed and developed films was a simple matter. The Rongbuk stream
-ran close by. It is true that, in the biting winds which swept through
-the valley, frequent dipping of the hands into ice-cold water was far
-from pleasant. The most difficult part of the whole process of the
-production of the negative was the drying of the washed films. This
-had to be done at a temperature above the freezing-point of water,
-owing to the fact that, if the films once froze, frost marks formed in
-the emulsion. However, by the simple expedient of closing the tent as
-hermetically as possible, and remaining inside it with two or three
-candles burning during the drying process, the temperature could be
-kept above freezing.</p>
-
-<p>At last the day came when I was able to think of advancing. Time there
-was none to lose. The weather outlook was by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> no means improving.
-Indeed, there was every indication of the monsoon breaking sooner than
-we had expected. Although there were no more climbers left at the
-Base Camp, the whole climbing strength of the expedition, with the
-exception of myself, being in the first party, my choice of climbing
-companions was easy enough. First of all, there was Captain Geoffrey
-Bruce. Tall, of athletic build, strong, endowed with a great fund
-of mental energy—an invaluable asset on ventures of this kind—and
-cheerful in any situation, he was, in spite of the fact that he had
-never indulged in mountaineering, an ideal companion. Believing two to
-be too weak a party to carry out the cut-and-dried plan of campaign
-that I had already formulated at the back of my mind, a third member
-was selected in the person of Lance-Corporal Tejbir, the most promising
-of the Ghurka non-commissioned officers attached to the expedition. He
-was a splendid specimen of humanity, standing fully six feet in his
-stockings, broad-shouldered, deep-chested and altogether well-knit.
-Above all things, the slightest provocation brought a wide grin to
-Tejbir’s pleasant face, even in the depths of adversity. Like Geoffrey
-Bruce, he had never climbed before; but I have noticed in the course of
-my experience that the man who grins most, is usually the one who goes
-farthest in the mountains—and perhaps also elsewhere. What porters we
-could, Geoffrey Bruce and I selected at the Base Camp. The remainder of
-those who were to assist in pitching and provisioning our highest camps
-were selected later, on the way up to and at Camp III.</p>
-
-<p>I would like to place on record here that, whatever small measure of
-success Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and I eventually achieved, was almost
-entirely due to the loyal and gallant efforts with which these splendid
-little men backed us up on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span> every possible occasion. No praise can
-be too great for the exemplary and cheerful devotion they displayed
-towards us throughout. These porters came for the most part from
-Nepal, the native state lying to the south of Mount Everest. Being of
-Mongolian extraction, they have beardless faces. One of the greatest
-honours that one can confer upon them is to call them by some endearing
-nickname. One I called “Josephine-Anne-Marie,” another “Dorothy” and
-yet another “Trudi”<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a>; this last being suggested by his proper
-name, Tergio. Several of these men, Trudi and Dorothy among them,
-accomplished the extraordinary feat of climbing on three separate
-occasions to the tremendous altitude of 25,500 feet.</p>
-
-<p>On May 16, we left the Base for Camp I. Wakefield was accompanying us
-as far as Camp III, in order to give us a clean bill of health from
-there onwards. The way up to this camp was wholly delightful, and led
-for the most part over the tremendous moraines flanking the right bank
-of the Rongbuk Glacier. Everest was always before us, and the nearer we
-approached the entrance of the East Rongbuk Valley, the more was our
-view extended over the mountains to the west, nearly all of which are
-far more satisfying to the eye than Mount Everest. The day was fine.
-The only clouds were of the peculiar type, with sharp-cut edges, which
-I had learnt to associate with more or less settled weather in this
-part of the world. Camp I was pitched just inside the entrance to the
-East Rongbuk Valley and quite close to the East Rongbuk Glacier. The
-following day was spent in attending to matters of equipment and also
-in ski-ing in the snow-filled bed of the East Rongbuk stream just below
-the camp. The porters were intensely keen on this amusement and, in
-spite of numerous tosses, were the aptest of pupils.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span></p>
-
-<p>Thanks to the careful reconnaissance carried out by Strutt’s party, the
-way towards Camp II was a simple matter. For the most part we marched
-up over the stone-strewn surface of the East Rongbuk Glacier. Here and
-there the glacier was much broken up, but, by keeping to the moraines
-running down it, good headway was made. The views towards the peaks
-in that great chain which runs down from the North Peak towards the
-Base Camp were most striking. Point 22,580, in particular, is a most
-graceful mountain with a delightfully cornice-crested, aspiring summit.
-Clouds obscured Mount Everest, but for one brief spell they parted,
-and we saw, peeping down at us, the lofty summit, now looking far
-higher than it ever had before. Shortly before reaching Camp II, direct
-progress was barred by an enormous ice wall. The obstacle, however, was
-easily turned, and soon afterwards we arrived in camp.</p>
-
-<p>The tents were pitched on a layer of stones lying upon the glacier, at
-an altitude of about 19,500 feet above sea-level. It was well sheltered
-from the wind, but unfortunately received very little sun; a great
-disadvantage, because life in the shade was hardly bearable outside
-one’s sleeping-bag. A large, frozen-over pond of glacier water lay
-within a few yards of the camp, and beyond it, within easy reach, were
-some magnificent ice slopes. The sight of these gave me the idea that
-it would be a good plan to give Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and those of the
-porters, whom we had selected to join our party, their first lessons in
-the proper use of the ice-axe and climbing irons. A suitable slope was
-soon found. At its foot lay the frozen-over pool. In a very short time
-my enthusiastic pupils were hard at it, and within half an hour many
-of them were so good that one might have thought they had been used to
-this sort of work all their lives. Tejbir, however, on one occasion
-chose to rely too much on his sure-footedness, with the result that
-he slipped, slithered down the slope, broke through the frozen surface
-of the water and got thoroughly ducked. With the instincts of the
-born mountaineer, he retained a grasp upon his ice-axe. We hauled him
-out at once, but as the external air temperature was well below zero,
-Tejbir soon discovered that he was encased in armour plate. We hustled
-him over to the camp and stripped him of his frozen clothing; and
-for the next two hours all that was to be seen of Tejbir was a broad
-grin surrounded by many blankets as he sat under shelter and thought
-things over. The problem of drying his clothes, though it was far too
-cold for the ice in them to melt, was quite a simple affair. At this
-great altitude, the air is so dry and so rarefied that ice evaporates
-at least as readily as water does at sea-level on a fine summer’s
-day—a phenomenon to which may be attributed the diminutive size of
-the mountain streams draining the extensive glaciers in this region of
-the earth. These streams are almost entirely supplied by water caused
-by the friction of the glaciers flowing over their rocky beds. Surface
-water due to melting of surface ice, the main source of supply of
-glacier streams in the Alps, does not exist on the northern slopes of
-Everest at this time of the year. Thus to dry Tejbir’s frozen garments
-one had only to apply a little logic and scientific training. Take, for
-instance, his trousers. These were first of all hammered out flat and
-then placed in a vertical position against a little wall of stones. The
-moment they collapsed and fell to the ground, it was obvious that their
-stiffening of ice had disappeared and they were, therefore, dry. Who,
-after this brilliant example, would gainsay the uses of science?</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img46">
-<img src="images/img46.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption">“<i>A suitable slope was soon found.</i>”</p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 302.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>The original intention had been to give my party at least one day’s
-rest at Camp II, with the object of assisting, as far<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span> as possible,
-the important process of acclimatisation. But on our march up to the
-camp, everyone had felt so remarkably fit, and I myself had walked so
-freely and easily, that, as Camp II was by no means too comfortable, we
-thought it better to make for Camp III. At 8 a.m., therefore, on May 19
-we set off. At first, by keeping to the moraine, we were able to avoid
-having to seek a way through the broken up ice of the glacier. But all
-too soon the stones came to an end, and we had to take to the icefall.
-First appearances suggested the possibility of heavy step-cutting, but,
-as a matter of fact, things turned out extraordinarily well, and it
-was only very occasionally that we had to ply the axe. Here and there
-a frozen-over pool of water lying at the foot of some crevasse had to
-be circumvented. Although the ice was in most cases thick, it could
-not be relied upon to bear one’s weight, as the water underneath had
-often ebbed away and was no longer in contact with the ice. A ducking
-could not be risked now; we were so far away from the comforts of a
-camp that the consequences might have proved more than unpleasant. It
-was sheer joy, this climbing up and down or walking along the troughs
-of crevasses, circumventing and occasionally scaling huge séracs of
-fantastic shapes and showing the most wonderful range of colours from
-clear, deep blue, through green to a pure, opaque white which in
-turn merged into a crystal-clear transparency. Unlike the séracs of
-European glaciers, there was nothing to be feared from these great
-giants. Séracs in Switzerland are formed by the flow of glaciers
-over some marked step or irregularity in their beds; but here, north
-of Mount Everest, other causes seemed to be at work. Perhaps side
-pressure caused by tributary glaciers flowing into the main glacier,
-perhaps wind currents and evaporation of ice are the deciding factors.
-In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span> any case, the séracs of the East Rongbuk Glacier stood proudly
-upon firm, wide bases and showed no rottenness or decay to menace
-those marching amongst them. Eventually we emerged from the broken up
-part of the glacier and found ourselves on the still snow-free but
-almost uncrevassed, gently-rising upper portion, over which progress
-developed into little more than a rather wearisome trudge. The North
-Peak was now to be seen at its best—a bold, heavily-built Colossus,
-above the eastern ridge of which appeared the summit of Everest. The
-mountains to the east were not attractive. We were now so close to them
-that it was evident that they are for the most part little more than
-glorified scree slopes rising from uninteresting-looking glaciers.
-The heat on this part of the day’s march was considerable. There was
-little or no wind, but, contrary to the experiences related by many
-Himalayan explorers, few of us were overcome by that form of heat
-lassitude usually associated with such weather conditions in these high
-altitudes. Indeed, most of us, including the porters, who carried loads
-averaging some forty pounds each, plodded along at a good, steady pace,
-which was certainly no slower than it would have been in the Alps, say,
-on the Aletsch Glacier at noon under a summer sun. It may, perhaps, be
-worthy of mention that since leaving the Base Camp, perspiration had
-been unknown to us. No matter how hot the sun, how still the air, or
-how great the exertion, any perspiration exuded by the skin was, owing
-to the dryness and the reduced pressure of the atmosphere, evaporated
-before one became aware of its presence.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img47">
-<img src="images/img47.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Amid the séracs of the East Rongbuk Glacier.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img48">
-<img src="images/img48.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Crossing a trough on the East Rongbuk Glacier.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 304.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>At an altitude of about 20,500 feet, some crevasses intersected the now
-no longer snow-free surface of the glacier, and we put on the rope.
-Soon after midday we rounded the end of the east ridge of the North
-Peak and hove in sight<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span> of Camp III (21,000 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>). Like Camp II, it
-was pitched on a layer of stones resting on the East Rongbuk Glacier.
-We found Strutt in residence, and he gave us the news. That morning
-Mallory, Morshead, Norton and Somervell had left for the North Col
-prior to their attempt on Mount Everest. High up on a terrace above the
-steep snow slopes immediately below the Col, we could see a cluster of
-tiny black dots—the tents of the North Col Camp. On the skyline, in
-the col itself, were seen more little black dots, but moving. Evidently
-the first party were out taking a constitutional.</p>
-
-<p>For the next few days Camp III was to serve as my party’s advance
-base camp. Here it was that we overhauled our stores and equipment,
-especially the oxygen outfit. With feelings akin to dismay, suspicions
-that I had already formed at Camp I were confirmed; not one of the
-ten oxygen apparatus was usable. They had suffered so severely in the
-course of our travels across Tibet that most of the soldered metal
-joints leaked; washers had become so dry that the other joints could no
-longer be made gastight, and several of the gauges were out of action.
-Then again, neither of the two types of masks with which we were
-supplied could be used. The first of these, the so-called “economiser”
-pattern, by means of an arrangement of valves, allowed oxygen flowing
-from the apparatus to mix with the air on inhalation, but stored it
-up and thus prevented waste on exhalation of the breath. It was found
-that, owing to the resistance imposed by these valves upon breathing,
-the mask could not be used, the strain thrown upon the lungs being too
-great. The second type of mask had really been supplied for use in
-the event of the “economiser” failing to give satisfactory service.
-It was wasteful of oxygen because the gas supply was continuous, no
-matter whether the climber were inhaling or exhaling;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span> thus during
-the periods of exhalation the oxygen issuing from the apparatus was
-wholly wasted. However, we found that this mask suffered from, amongst
-others, the same defect as the first; the resistance imposed upon
-the free passage of the breath was too much for the lungs. It must
-not be forgotten that the whole oxygen outfit—masks, apparatus,
-containers—was more or less experimental; the conditions under
-which it was to be utilised were practically unknown, and, in the
-circumstances, the design was the best that science could produce.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img306">
-<img src="images/img306.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Mount Everest from Camp III.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 306.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>While waiting at Darjeeling for the arrival of the apparatus, I had
-turned the question of masks over in my mind and had formed the germ
-of an idea for another pattern which I intended to construct in the
-event of the others proving unsatisfactory. The wherewithal to make
-the new mask had been easily procured. A few toy football bladders and
-glass “T” tubes were all I needed. With these materials and odd bits
-of rubber tubing, I was able to construct a new mask, if indeed it
-could be so termed, by means of which oxygen could be mixed with the
-air inhaled by the climber without loss on exhalation and, at the same
-time, without any appreciable extra work being thrown upon the lungs.
-The new device, as so many useful devices are, was almost ridiculously
-simple. A rubber tube connected the oxygen delivery orifice of the
-apparatus with the mouth of the climber. Into this rubber tube was
-let a glass “T” tube, the third opening of which was connected to a
-football bladder. On inhaling, the oxygen flowed through the rubber
-tube into the mouth of the climber, there mixing with the indrawn
-air. On exhaling, the climber had to close the end of the tube in his
-mouth by biting on it, and thus prevent the flow and consequent waste
-of oxygen. During this latter operation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span> the oxygen, which was still
-flowing from the apparatus, was stored up in the expanding football
-bladder. On re-inhaling, the climber simply released the pressure of
-his teeth upon the tube, and the bladder, collapsing slowly, gently
-forced the oxygen into his mouth where it mixed with the inhaled air.
-The correct closing and opening of the rubber tube by alternately
-biting and releasing the pressure of the teeth upon it became, after a
-few minutes’ practice, a perfectly automatic, subconscious process. The
-success of this simple mask pleased me greatly; without it, no really
-effective use could have been made of our oxygen supplies. Oxygen would
-have been misjudged as useless, and the solution of the problem of
-climbing Mount Everest would have been as distant as ever.</p>
-
-<p>Camp III soon became the scene of much activity. Examination of the
-oxygen cylinders revealed that their contents were still intact; so
-we thereupon set to work with hacksaws, pliers, soldering iron and so
-forth to repair the damaged apparatus. Eventually two of these were
-made to function satisfactorily and, later on, two more. Owing to lack
-of accommodation, the work had to be carried out in the open, so that
-our hours of labour were limited to those of sunshine; in the shade,
-the cold was so intense that the handling of metal with bare hands
-was impracticable. Once the work was interrupted by a snowstorm, and,
-while waiting for the fresh snow covering up workshop, instruments,
-apparatus and all to evaporate, Geoffrey Bruce and I put on skis and
-pottered around on the glacier—quite an exhilarating pastime at these
-altitudes. Curiously enough, it was only on snow lying in the sun that
-good running could be had. I found that in the shade the snow was
-so cold as to exert a sticky, dragging effect upon the skis, almost
-similar to that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span> which one might expect with sand. At nights the
-temperature occasionally fell very low; 62° F. of frost were recorded.</p>
-
-<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img49">
-<img src="images/img49.jpg" class="w75" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="right small"></p>
-<p class="center caption"><span class="smcap">Sketch Map of Mount Everest.</span></p>
-<p class="center small b2">Approximate scale, 1 inch to a mile. All heights in feet.</p>
-
-<p>In order to test thoroughly the repaired apparatus, we went for a
-number of trial trips. One of these, over to the Rapiu la, a depression
-at the foot of the north-east ridge of Everest, was of particular
-interest to me. The valleys to the south of this pass were filled
-with great, rolling banks of cloud which almost wholly concealed the
-view. But the north-east ridge of Everest as far as the Shoulder was
-quite clear, and to my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span> amazement I at once saw that this ridge would
-probably afford an excellent, perhaps even the best, line of approach
-to the Shoulder. I remembered now that <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Harold Raeburn, the most
-experienced climber of the 1921 expedition, had already pronounced upon
-this ridge as affording a practicable route to the summit. We have only
-to compare its advantages and disadvantages with those of the North Col
-route up the north ridge to see how sound the judgment of this veteran
-pioneer was. Take first of all the latter line of ascent. To the
-observer from Camp III, it is obvious that the approach to the North
-Col, if a line of ascent which is to be safe under any conditions is to
-be taken, particularly after falls of fresh snow, must be a laborious
-one, calling for an experienced ice-man with a wide knowledge of snow
-conditions. On the north ridge as far as the Shoulder, it is equally
-clear to the observer, both from the base and from Camp III, that the
-climber must be continually exposed to the full blast of the prevailing
-west wind—more appropriately, perhaps, termed gale—which, combined
-with intense cold, must prove an even more formidable enemy than mere
-altitude or rarefaction of the atmosphere. On the north-east ridge,
-on the other hand, the way from the Rapiu la right up to the Shoulder
-is perfectly straightforward, no matter what the conditions of the
-snow may be. Immediately below the Shoulder are some prominent rocky
-teeth. They look rather terrible, but from the Rapiu la, even had I not
-already known that the stratification of the mountain dips towards the
-north, I could see that they might be turned without serious difficulty
-and the Shoulder gained. But the supreme advantage of this route lies
-in the fact that it is practically always free from wind. Largely owing
-to its direction, the wind on the north side of the mountain fails
-to sweep over the north-east ridge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span> as it does over the north, and,
-furthermore, it is more or less balanced by the up-draught from the
-south. In view of the facts, however, that the camp on the North Col
-had already been established, and that the first party had, as far as
-we knew, even established a camp much higher up on the north ridge, the
-recognition of Raeburn’s great discovery had come too late.</p>
-
-<p>Snow fell on the night of May 20-21, and ushered in one of the rare
-windless days of that season. Towards sunset, while scanning the north
-ridge of Everest for signs of the first climbing party, we made out
-four dark specks descending the great, broad snow slopes of the lower
-section of the north ridge. They were the four members of the first
-climbing party making their way back to the North Col after their
-attempt upon the mountain. It appeared to us that they were more or
-less exhausted, so on the morning of the 22nd, acting on orders by
-Colonel Strutt, who, as eldest man, had with utter unselfishness stood
-down from the first party, Geoffrey Bruce, Wakefield, Tejbir and
-I, together with eight porters, set out for the North Col with the
-triple object of rendering assistance to the first climbing party, of
-replenishing stores in the North Col Camp and of giving the oxygen
-apparatus a final, thorough try-out. A longish tramp across the
-gently-rising basin at the head of the East Rongbuk Glacier led to the
-foot of the steep snow and ice slopes up which one must mount to gain
-the col. The first climbing party were making their way down towards
-us, and we eventually met them a short distance above the foot of the
-final slopes. Most of them seemed practically at the end of their
-tether and were hardly able to speak coherently. Norton, weather-beaten
-and with obvious traces of having undergone immense strain, gave us a
-brief account of their climb. On<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span> the night of the 20th they had camped
-at a height of 25,000 feet, and next morning, Morshead having already
-suffered too much from the effects of cold and altitude to be able to
-go farther, Norton, Mallory and Somervell had climbed on until, at 2.30
-p.m. on the 21st, they had reached the enormous altitude of 26,800 feet
-above sea-level as then indicated by the aneroid they carried.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p>
-
-<p>There they had to confess themselves beaten, and return. Snow had
-fallen on the night of the 20th, but they had been blessed with a calm
-day for their climb. Retracing their steps, they had rejoined Morshead
-in their high camp, and all four had continued the descent to the
-North Col camp, where they had passed the night. Such, in brief, is
-the history of the first attempt on Mount Everest. We gave them food
-and drink, then, leaving <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Wakefield to see them safely down to Camp
-III, Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and I, together with our porters, went on
-towards the col. The slopes below the col were laden with fresh snow,
-probably most of it wind-borne and drifted. Not liking the conditions,
-and in order to make sure of running no risks of loosening snow-shields
-or avalanches, I avoided zig-zagging across doubtful slopes by working
-straight up, cutting steps where necessary. Thus we ascended in safety
-as far as the foot of the last, almost vertical ice cliff above which
-lay the camp. This cliff would hardly have yielded to a frontal attack,
-but I found that a safe traverse across a steep snow slope on the left
-could be made by keeping to the snow-buried, lower lip of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span> diminutive
-crack in the ice. Shortly before the crack came to an end, and with
-it the security against the risk of treading loose a snow-shield, it
-became possible to strike directly up towards the camp; not, however,
-without some slight indication of demur on the part of a few of the
-porters, who could not understand why, instead of choosing an obviously
-easy slope, I should deliberately choose a more difficult way up a
-much steeper one. But they followed cheerfully enough, and I think
-that some of them at least saw method in my madness. Three hours after
-setting out from Camp III, we arrived at the North Col Camp. Of this
-time forty-five minutes had fallen to halts, chiefly our meeting with
-the first party. The difference in height between the two camps is
-about 2,000 feet. We had, therefore, ascended at the rate of nearly one
-thousand feet an hour, quite a good average rate of progression even
-in the Alps. We had used oxygen. If such had been necessary, this were
-testimony enough of its advantages.</p>
-
-<p>Arrived at the North Col, we dumped a supply of oxygen cylinders,
-food and other tackle and then sat down to look round and thoroughly
-enjoy things. The porters were amazed at the pace which we had been
-able to maintain, despite the fact that our loads were, on the whole,
-far heavier than theirs; and for the first time they began to take a
-lively interest in the oxygen apparatus. Geoffrey Bruce was called upon
-to explain its workings. He told them that I could climb well in the
-Alps because the “English air” about those mountains suited me. But
-Himalayan air disagreed with me, and I had, therefore, brought out a
-supply of the more vigorous air. Just to show them how strong “English
-air” is, I turned a stream of oxygen from my apparatus on to the
-glowing end of a cigarette, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</span> thereupon flared up and spluttered
-with a brilliant white light. A better audience for this perhaps most
-beautiful of all laboratory experiments, carried out at 23,000 feet
-above sea-level, could not have been desired.</p>
-
-<p>The view from the col is magnificent. Everest shows up to far greater
-advantage from this point than from the Base Camp. It still lacks
-beauty, but, owing to its nearness, had gained enormously, almost
-overwhelmingly, in size. We could trace out almost every inch of the
-way we hoped soon to follow to the summit. As the North Col is the
-depression on the ridge connecting Everest and the North Peak, we had
-only to turn round to see the latter, less immense but of far more
-pleasing appearance than its massive neighbour. The most remarkable
-feature of the view, however, was the jumble of séracs and great ice
-cliffs perched just above the camp. The untrained observer would,
-doubtless, have thought these unstable and a menace to the existence of
-the little tents; it need hardly be said that these would never have
-been pitched upon a terrace exposed to the dangers of falling ice;
-mountaineers are not quite so foolish and foolhardy as many people are
-inclined to believe.</p>
-
-<p>That afternoon we all returned to Camp III. On the journey home we
-halted frequently, taking in all two dozen photographs. And yet,
-in less than fifty minutes after leaving the col, we were back in
-Camp III. All possible doubts as to the great advantages of oxygen,
-even when administered by means of the rather experimental and bulky
-apparatus with which we were supplied, were now at an end.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img50">
-<img src="images/img50.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The North Peak and the North Col Camp.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 314.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>On arriving in camp, we found the four members of the first party much
-restored in health. They had indeed performed a wonderful feat in
-reaching an altitude of nearly two thousand five hundred feet above
-the previous world’s record for high climbing, established by the
-Duke of the Abruzzi in 1909. But they had not escaped unscathed; all
-had suffered, to a greater or less extent, from frost-bite. Morshead’s
-fingers and toes were in a woeful condition, blue-black and covered
-with immense blisters. On the 23rd all four, together with Colonel
-Strutt, left for the Base Camp, and succeeded in reaching their
-destination that evening.</p>
-
-<p>In the meantime we completed our preparations, and on the 24th Geoffrey
-Bruce, Tejbir and I, accompanied by ten porters, went up to the North
-Col. With us was Captain Noel, whom we had rigged out with an oxygen
-apparatus—a new convert to the true faith. Apart from the question of
-altitude, the camp in the North Col was the most comfortable of all,
-being well sheltered from the wind. As soon as the sun set, however,
-the cold became intense, and after a somewhat early evening meal we
-crawled into our sleeping-bags. In spite of the fact that the tents
-were pitched on snow, we passed a fair night.</p>
-
-<p>Next morning we were up betimes; but not too early for the porters,
-who were as keen as ourselves on setting to work. At 8 a.m. they
-had breakfasted, loaded up, and started off towards the Shoulder of
-Everest. Knowing that with oxygen there would be no difficulty in
-overhauling them, we waited in camp until 9.30 a.m., busying ourselves
-the while in putting the finishing touches to our preparations and in
-making the best of breakfast. Both this and the preceding evening meal
-were rather meagre, the stock of provisions at the North Col being
-one permitting neither of waste nor over-consumption. Before gaining
-the long, broad snow ridge leading up towards the Shoulder, we had
-to make our way across a series of large crevasses intersecting the
-summit snows of the col. They gave no trouble, however, a number of
-different routes being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</span> made possible by an abundance of good snow
-bridges. The suggestion of dragging a wooden ladder all the way from
-India up to this spot, in order to negotiate an impassable crevasse or
-ice cliff, has been seriously advocated. Surely the adoption of such a
-stratagem is justifiable only in the case of the novice, or one whose
-mountaineering training has taught him to seek out difficulties in
-the mountains, instead of circumventing them with a steady eye on the
-ultimate goal. Also, in view of the fact that there are still doubts
-as to the morality or otherwise of employing oxygen, it were better
-that the use of artificial aids such as ladders, poles and what-not be
-deprecated.</p>
-
-<p>Just before gaining the foot of the snow ridge, we came upon one of
-the porters sitting on the floor of a snowed-up crevasse. His strength
-had failed him, but his comrades had divided up his load amongst
-themselves, and he had now settled down to await their return. He was
-quite comfortable and well sheltered from the wind. So with parting
-injunctions not to move off before the return of his comrades, we left
-him basking in the sun, and carried on. The lower section of the snow
-ridge is not steep, and, furthermore, by keeping a little to the right
-of the actual crest, we were able to make good headway over stones
-where the rock of the mountain joins the snow of the ridge. We drew
-level with the porters at an altitude of nearly 24,500 feet, but halted
-only for a few brief moments while I took some photographs. Further
-delay was inadvisable. One of those extraordinarily rapid changes in
-the weather, for which Mount Everest is now so notorious, could be
-seen approaching. With the porters following and doing their utmost to
-keep pace, we climbed on steadily. Shortly before coming to the end
-of the snow ridge, we had to cut steps up a steep snow slope. I made
-them large and close together in order that the porters could not only
-mount<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</span> easily but also descend in perfect safety. As a matter of
-fact, I might have contented myself with cutting the smallest of steps.
-Every single man in our party, sahib and porter alike, was working
-away as if he were a born mountaineer, showing splendid balance and
-self-confidence.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img316">
-<img src="images/img316.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The North Peak from an altitude of nearly 24,500 feet
-on Mount Everest.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>The arrows point to the North Col Camp.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 316.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>The weather had broken by the time the rocks above the snow ridge had
-been gained. We were at an altitude of about 25,000 feet. The wind was
-whirling snowflakes past us. We climbed on, however, because from Camp
-III I had detected, at a height of about 26,500 feet, a suitable site
-for our intended high camp. But by the time a height of 25,500 feet
-had been reached, the storm had become so threatening that all idea of
-further progress had, for the time being, to be renounced. To persist
-in going on in the face of this break in the weather would have meant
-running the porters, who had to make their way back to the North Col
-that afternoon, most unjustifiably into danger. This was not to be
-thought of; for I was responsible for the safety of these smiling,
-willing men, who placed absolute confidence in the sahib whom they
-served so well.</p>
-
-<p>It was anything but a cheerful spot in which to pitch camp. But though
-I climbed some two hundred feet higher, nothing more suitable was to
-be found. The leeside of the ridge was bare of any possible camping
-ground, and, as a wind is always felt more severely a little below
-and on the windward side of a ridge than on the crest of the ridge
-itself, I elected to camp right on the very backbone, on a little
-ledge overlooking the tremendous precipices falling away to the East
-Rongbuk and Rongbuk Glaciers, now over four thousand feet below. As
-soon as we had sent the porters scurrying down towards the safety of
-the North Col, Geoffrey Bruce, Tejbir and I looked to see that the
-guy-ropes holding down the tent were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</span> quite secure, then gathered up
-our sleeping-bags and provisions and crawled into the tent. After
-taking off our boots, all the undressing that was practicable, we crept
-into the sleeping-bags. It was bitterly cold, and, as the exposure to
-wind and storm which we had already undergone had severely chilled
-us, we huddled up together as closely as possible for the sake of the
-preservation of mutual warmth. The storm without was now in full blast,
-and it was snowing hard. Although we did our best to block up all
-apertures in the tent walls, a thick, white pall of fine, powdery snow
-soon covered us. Much of it insinuated its way into sleeping-bags and
-through our clothing on to our skin, there causing acute discomfort.
-Towards evening we set about preparing a meal. With the help of
-solidified spirit, snow was melted and tea brewed. It was far from
-being hot, for at this altitude water boils at such a low temperature
-that one can immerse the hand in it without fear of scalding; but, such
-as it was, the drink imparted some small measure of comfort to our
-chilled bodies. After sunset, when we would fain have slept or at least
-rested, the storm rose to a veritable hurricane and kept us occupied
-for the next eighteen hours. During the whole of this period, we had to
-remain alert and vigilant. To sit down and meditate quietly over what
-our attempt on the mountain would bring forth was out of the question.
-Terrific gusts tore at the tent, and occasionally the wind would force
-its way underneath the sewn-in ground-sheet and lift it up at one side
-or the other. When this happened, our combined efforts were needed to
-hold the ground-sheet down, for we knew that, once the wind got a good
-hold upon it, the tent would belly out like a sail, and nothing would
-save it from stripping away from its moorings and being blown, with
-us inside, over the precipice on to the East Rongbuk Glacier. By one
-o’clock on the morning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</span> of the 26th, the gale was at its height. The
-wild flapping of the canvas made a noise like that of machine-gun fire,
-and, what with this and the shrieking and howling of the gale round our
-tent, it was well-nigh impossible to converse with each other except
-by shouting, mouth to ear. Later on came interludes of comparative
-lull succeeded by outbursts even more furious than ever. Some of the
-guy-ropes had broken or had worked loose, and we had to take it in
-turns to go outside the tent and endeavour to straighten things up. To
-work in the open for more than three or four minutes at a stretch was
-impossible, so profound was the exhaustion induced by even this brief
-exposure to the fierce and bitterly cold wind.</p>
-
-<p>A cheerless dawn broke. The snow had ceased falling, but the wind
-howled and hurried with unabated vigour. At eight o’clock, on the
-morning of May 26, it showed signs of subsiding. It was but the rousing
-of false hopes, for half an hour later it had returned with greater
-energy than ever. With almost incredible fury it tore at our tent,
-and once again we had to take it in turns to go outside and tighten
-up guy-ropes. These little excursions showed, beyond all possible
-doubt, that until the storm had diminished there could be no question
-either of advance or retreat to the North Col Camp. No human being
-could survive more than a few minutes’ exposure to a gale of such fury
-coupled with so intense a cold. To add to our discomfort, a great hole
-was cut in the windward panel of the tent by a stone, and the flaps
-of the door were stripped of their fastenings. Fortunately, however,
-everybody was remarkably cheerful.</p>
-
-<p>At one o’clock in the afternoon of the 26th, just as we were beginning
-to feel rather irritated at the rough treatment which Everest had
-hitherto so generously doled out to us, respite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</span> came. The blustering
-gale dropped to nothing more than a stiff breeze—the sort of thing
-against which one can walk comfortably if one only leans sufficiently
-far forward into it. This was our first opportunity to return to the
-North Col; but we decided to stay where we were for the rest of the day
-and the ensuing night, and on the following morning make an early start
-and climb the mountain.</p>
-
-<p>The one fly in the ointment was that our provisions were practically
-at an end. Reasons for this shortage in food supplies are soon given.
-For one thing, we had never intended to spend more than one night in
-the high camp and had, therefore brought provisions for only one night,
-and even these had been measured out on an extremely niggardly scale.
-The majority of Himalayan experts had assured us time and again that it
-would (1) be absolutely impossible for a human being to survive a night
-spent at an altitude such as we had now attained (25,500 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), and
-that (2) at such an altitude one would be totally unable to eat owing
-to absolute lack of appetite. On the other hand, sound, scientific
-opinion emanating from Professor Dreyer had not only not prophesied
-either of these contingencies, but had, indeed, definitely warned me
-that oxygen would increase the appetite, irrespective of altitude. I
-was now bitterly to regret that Professor Dreyer’s warning had been
-swamped from my memory by the flood of the other assurances set out
-above. I well remember how, on that second night in our high camp, I
-fervently wished that one or two of those who had voiced such heresies
-had been available; we were ravenously hungry, even, I think, to the
-point of cannibalism! However, thanks to the fact that there still
-remained to us some cigarettes, the time passed well enough. Apart
-from its comforting influence, cigarette smoking incidentally exerts a
-most beneficial effect upon respiration at high altitudes. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</span> noticed
-in a very marked fashion that unless I kept my mind on the question of
-breathing and made of it a voluntary process instead of the involuntary
-one it normally is, I suffered from lack of air and consequent feeling
-of suffocation. To recover from this feeling, it was necessary to
-force the lungs to work more quickly than they would of their own
-accord. There is a physiological explanation of this phenomenon. The
-amount of carbon dioxide normally present in the blood is, at high
-altitudes, largely removed from the system owing to the enormous volume
-of air which it is necessary to inhale in order to obtain a sufficient
-supply of atmospheric oxygen for the re-oxidation of the venous blood.
-Carbon dioxide serves to stimulate the nerve centre controlling the
-process of involuntary breathing. Lack of carbon dioxide results in
-this nerve centre being no longer stimulated, and, if suffocation is
-to be avoided, involuntary breathing has to be replaced by voluntary
-breathing, a process which in time throws such strain upon the mind
-and powers of concentration as to preclude all possibility of sleep.
-Both Geoffrey Bruce and Tejbir had likewise observed the annoying
-necessity of having to concentrate continuously on breathing. But after
-the first few deep inhalations of cigarette smoke, we discovered that
-it was possible to resort once more to normal involuntary breathing.
-Evidently something in the smoke took the place of the carbon dioxide
-in which the blood was deficient, and acted as a nerve stimulant. The
-beneficial effect of a cigarette lasted for as much as three hours. As
-luck would have it, we had with us a fair supply which lasted well into
-the afternoon of the 26th.</p>
-
-<p>We were quite a merry little party that afternoon as we gathered round
-a scanty meal cooked with the last of our fuel, and then prepared to
-settle down for another night. Towards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</span> 6 p.m. I heard voices outside
-the tent, but thought I must be dreaming. When Geoffrey Bruce, however,
-started up at the sounds, I knew that someone must be without. Six
-porters, headed by that indomitable little fellow Tergio, clustered
-round the door. They brought thermos flasks of warm tea provided by
-the thoughtful Noel. These splendid men had, of their own accord, left
-the North Col that afternoon as soon as the storm had abated, and
-made the tremendous journey up to our camp just to assure themselves
-of our well-being. This is but one example of the many acts of brave,
-unselfish devotion performed by the porters of the 1922 expedition.
-Tergio, whose light-hearted gaiety, ready laughter and merrily
-twinkling eyes, whose high courage, boundless energy and perseverance
-had especially endeared him to me, now lies buried in the cold snows of
-the North Col. He will never be forgotten; I should like to climb with
-him again. The porters expected us to return with them, and needed no
-little persuasion before leaving us.</p>
-
-<p>The second night in the high camp did not begin well. We were exhausted
-from our previous experiences and lack of food. Provoked, perhaps,
-by my labours outside the tent, a dead, numbing cold was creeping
-up my limbs; a sensation that I had only once before felt, and to
-the seriousness of which I was fully aware. Inquiry elicited the
-information that my companions were undergoing the same unpleasant
-experiences. Like a heaven-sent inspiration came the idea of trying the
-effect of oxygen. Previously we had used oxygen only while actually
-climbing, and, on arriving at our high camp, had dumped the apparatus
-outside the tent. Now hauling in one apparatus together with a supply
-of cylinders, we took doses all round, giving the action the air of
-a joke. Tejbir took his medicine without much interest; but as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</span>
-inhaled, I saw with relief that his face brightened up. The effect of
-the oxygen on Geoffrey Bruce was particularly visible in his rapid
-change of expression; the hitherto drawn, anxious look on his face
-gave place to a more normal one. The result on myself was no less
-marvellous; almost at once I felt the painful, prickling, tingling
-sensation, due to the returning circulation of the blood, as the lost
-warmth slowly came back to my limbs. We connected up the apparatus so
-that all could breathe a small quantity throughout the night. There is
-no doubt whatsoever that oxygen saved our lives that night; without
-it, in our well-nigh exhausted and famished condition, we would have
-succumbed to the cold.</p>
-
-<p>Before daybreak we were stirring. It was necessary to dress, that is,
-put on our boots—a much lengthier operation than it sounds. By taking
-mine to bed with me, I had contrived to keep them fairly soft and
-supple, so that a quarter of an hour’s striving and tugging sufficed
-to get them on. But the others had neglected to nurse theirs, with the
-result that the uppers were hard-frozen and completely out of shape.
-It took us an hour to soften and remould them by holding them over
-lighted candles. Shortly after six o’clock, we assembled outside. No
-time had been wasted over breakfast; there was none. The first rays of
-the sun had just touched our tent when we shouldered our loads and set
-off. What with oxygen apparatus, cameras and other necessary odds and
-ends, Bruce and I each carried more than forty pounds. Tejbir, with two
-extra cylinders of oxygen, shouldered a burden of about fifty pounds.
-My scheme was that Tejbir should accompany us as far as the Shoulder,
-where we would relieve him of his load and send him back. The weather
-was clear, and the only clouds in the sky, though undoubtedly of the
-wrong type, seemed too far off to presage evil. A fresh wind cut across
-the ridge, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</span> the cold was, as usual, intense. Keeping to the ridge,
-and making straight for the Shoulder, we mounted rapidly. But very soon
-the cold began to have its effect on Tejbir’s sturdy constitution,
-already weakened by starvation and hardship. At an altitude of 26,000
-feet above sea-level he collapsed. It took some little time to restore
-him to his senses, only to see that he had given of his best and
-could go no farther. We unburdened him, leaving him his apparatus and
-sufficient oxygen to see him safely back to the high camp. The ground
-over which we had just come was easy and, as the tent was in full view
-below, there was no chance of losing the way; so, as soon as he was
-sufficiently recovered,<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> we sent Tejbir back.</p>
-
-<p>After seeing him well on his way, we shared Tejbir’s load between us.
-In view of the straightforward nature of the climbing, I chose to
-dispense with the rope in order to be able to progress more quickly.
-Climbing by no means steep and quite easy rocks, and passing two almost
-level places affording ample room for some future high camp, we arrived
-at an altitude of 26,500 feet. By this time, the wind, which had been
-steadily rising, had acquired such force that I realised that, were
-we to remain fully exposed to it much longer, we would both succumb
-to the cold as Tejbir had done. We were, however, not out to see how
-far we could go, but bent on getting to the top of Everest. So we
-changed tactics. Instead of gaining the summit by ridges exposed to
-the full blast of the gale, we would have to follow a more sheltered
-way. The only thing to do was to leave the ridge and strike out across
-the vast north face of the mountain. This<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</span> alternative route had its
-disadvantages. The rocks up which we had come were wind-swept free
-from snow, and foot- and handholds were good and plentiful, and, so
-far as could be seen, this state of affairs continued for quite a long
-way beyond the Shoulder. The moment we left the ridge, however, we
-felt the disadvantages of the fact that the stratification of the rock
-dips towards the north. The ground over which we now had to make a way
-was slabby, with much new snow to hamper us. Caution was necessary
-throughout. My companion was sure-footed, careful and unlikely to slip;
-nevertheless, being responsible for his safety, I moderated my pace and
-never allowed more than a few feet to separate us. Thus, keeping close
-together, we worked away steadily, gaining but little in altitude,
-but getting ever so much nearer to the summit. The climbing steadily
-became more and more difficult. Sometimes the slabs gave place to snow;
-treacherous, powdery stuff with a thin, wind-formed crust that gave a
-false appearance of compactness. Little reliance could be placed upon
-it. At length, when about half-way across the face and at an altitude
-of about 27,000 feet, we decided once again to change our route and
-strike straight upwards in the direction of the summit ridge.</p>
-
-<p>We had climbed some three hundred feet higher, and I had just reached
-a ledge at the top of a steep slab about thirty feet in height, when
-I heard Geoffrey Bruce give a startled cry: “I’m getting no oxygen!”
-Turning round immediately, I saw him struggling ineffectually to
-climb up towards me. Quickly descending the few intervening feet, I
-was just in time to grasp his right shoulder with my left hand as he
-was on the point of falling backwards over the precipice. I dragged
-him face forwards against the rock, and, after a supreme effort on
-the part of both, we gained<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</span> the ledge where I swung him round into a
-sitting position against the slope above. Thus placed, with the weight
-of his apparatus taken off his back, he again told me, this time in a
-gasp, that he was no longer receiving oxygen. I gave him my tube and,
-still standing, with the full weight of my own apparatus and other
-impedimenta on my back, endeavoured to locate the fault. Systematically
-I traced the connections from the cylinder in use down to the pressure
-gauge and flow-meter and found both in action, the latter recording a
-flow of 2·4 litres per minute. By this time, however, what with the
-weight of my load and being deprived of oxygen, I was not feeling
-any too well, and, believing the defect to lie in a breakage of the
-flow-meter exit tube (an apparatus had previously failed through
-developing this flaw which was consistent with the results of the
-present hasty examination), in my desperation I tried to prize off the
-flow-meter with my ice-axe in order to be able to connect the rubber
-tube leading to Geoffrey Bruce on to the exit tube of the reducing
-valve. (The emergency by-pass valve was useless in dealing with this
-type of breakdown.) Before I had proceeded far with my efforts,
-however, I found it necessary to recover my tube from Geoffrey and take
-a series of deep gulps of oxygen, turning on the gas to a maximum rate
-of delivery and, in addition, increasing its flow by making use of the
-by-pass valve on my own apparatus. This restored me, and, so that both
-could breathe oxygen simultaneously from my apparatus, I connected a
-reserve “T” piece and rubber tubing, which I had fortunately brought
-with me, on to the delivery tube. Resuming the diagnosis, I this time
-traced connections back from the mouthpiece and at once discovered that
-a glass connecting piece, which had been used in the construction of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</span>
-the improvised mask, was broken. The thick rubber which had originally
-covered the tubing had been partially dragged off, and the glass, thus
-unprotected, had probably been fractured against rock while climbing.
-As I had a spare glass connection in my possession, the repair was
-speedily effected, and Geoffrey Bruce was once more inhaling oxygen
-from his own apparatus.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p>
-
-<p>We rested for a few minutes before going on. Those few minutes decided
-the issue of the day. So far, I had not had the leisure to consider my
-companion’s condition. His climbing was all I had had eyes for. How
-was he getting on? Was he all right without the rope? Was he keeping
-up? But now I saw that Geoffrey Bruce, like Tejbir, had driven his
-body almost to the uttermost. A little more would spell breakdown. The
-realisation came like a blow. My emotions are eternally my own, and I
-will not put on paper a cold-blooded, psychological analysis of the
-cataclysmic change they underwent, but will merely indicate the initial
-and final mental positions. Reasoned determination, confidence, faith
-in the possibility of achievement, hope—all had acquired cumulative
-force as we made our way higher and higher; the two nights’ struggle at
-our high camp had not dimmed our enthusiasm, nor had the collapse of
-Tejbir, rude shock and source of grave anxiety though it undoubtedly
-was. Never for a moment did I think we would fail; progress was steady,
-the summit was there before us; a little longer, and we should be on
-the top. And then—suddenly, unexpectedly, the vision was gone.... I
-thought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</span> quickly. I could have gone on, the time having long passed
-since I possessed no confidence in my own factor of safety or needed a
-rope. But to have done so would have been unfair to Geoffrey Bruce who
-with his fewer years was not so inured to hardship as I was. We did,
-however, proceed for a few yards. This made my only possible course of
-action even more obvious.<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> As evidence of my companion’s indomitable
-spirit I would add that, when my decision to return was announced, he
-clearly voiced his chagrin.</p>
-
-<p>According to the aneroid barometer I carried, we had reached an
-altitude of at least 27,300 feet.<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> The point we had gained
-may be easily recognised. We were standing inside the bend of a
-conspicuous inverted “V” of snow, immediately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</span> below the great belt of
-reddish-yellow granite which cleaves almost horizontally through the
-greenish, grey-black rock of which the summit and north face of Mount
-Everest are composed. With the exception of the summit of Everest,
-nowhere could we see a single mountain-top as high as our own lofty
-perch. The highest mountain visible was Cho Uyo, which is just short
-of 27,000 feet. We were well above it, and could look across it into
-the dense clouds beyond. The great West Peak of Everest, one of the
-most beautiful objects to be seen from down in the Rongbuk Valley, was
-hidden, but we knew that our standpoint was nearly two thousand feet
-above it. We could look across into clouds which lay at some undefined
-distance behind the Shoulder, a clear indication that we were only a
-little, if anything, below its level. Pumori, an imposing, ice-bound
-pyramid, some 23,000 feet high, I sought at first in vain. So far were
-we above it that it had sunk into an insignificant little ice-hump
-by the side of the Rongbuk Glacier. Most of the other landmarks were
-blotted out by masses of ominous, yellow-hued clouds, swept from the
-west in the wake of an angry storm-wind. Though 1,700 feet below, we
-were well within half a mile of the summit, so close, indeed, that we
-could distinguish individual stones on a little patch of scree lying
-just below the highest point.</p>
-
-<p>But it was useless to think of continuing. It was too plain that, if we
-were to persist in climbing on, even if only for another five hundred
-feet, we should not both get back alive. The decision to retreat
-once taken, no time was lost, and, fearing lest another accidental
-interruption in the oxygen supply might lead to a slip on the part of
-either of us, we roped together. It was midday. At first we returned in
-our tracks, but later aimed at striking the ridge between the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</span> Shoulder
-and the North Col, at a point above where we had left it in the
-morning. This enabled us to find level going where the order of advance
-was of little importance, and I could go ahead, keeping my companion on
-a short, taut rope. The clear weather was gone. Once back on the ridge,
-we plunged down the easy, broken rocks through thick mists, driven
-past us from the west by a violent wind. For one small mercy we were
-thankful—no snow fell.</p>
-
-<p>On regaining our high camp, we looked inside the tent and found Tejbir
-snugly wrapped up in all three sleeping-bags, sleeping the deep sleep
-of exhaustion. Hearing the voices of porters on their way up to meet
-us, we woke him up, telling him to await their arrival and to go down
-with them. Bruce and I then proceeded on our way, met the ascending
-porters and passed on, greatly cheered by their bright welcomes and
-encouraging smiles. But the long descent, coming as it did on the top
-of a hard day’s work, soon began to find out our weakness. We were
-deplorably tired and could no longer move ahead with our accustomed
-vigour. Knees did not always bend and unbend as required. At times
-they gave way altogether and forced us, staggering, to sit down. But
-eventually we reached the broken snows of the North Col, and at 4 p.m.
-arrived in the camp, where we found Crawford and Wakefield who, with
-very natural curiosity, had come up to have a look at the col and spend
-the night there. Noel had already been three days up here on rather
-short rations, and the fuel and food supplies were consequently much
-depleted. In the circumstances, though we would fain have passed the
-night in the North Col Camp, as did the four climbers after the first
-attempt, we were compelled to face a further descent that afternoon
-to Camp III. A craving for food and rest, to the lack of which
-our weakness was mainly due, was all that animated us; and, before
-continuing the descent, this craving had to be satisfied, even if only
-to a small extent. A cup of hot tea and a small tin of spaghetti were
-forthcoming, and even this little nourishment so refreshed and renewed
-our strength that three-quarters of an hour later we were ready to set
-off for Camp III.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img330a">
-<img src="images/img330a.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Mount Everest from the North Col, showing route.</i></p>
-<p class="center small">1. <i>Site of first party’s camp.</i> 2. <i>Site of our camp.</i> 3.
-<i>Point gained by Norton, Mallory and Somervell.</i> 4. <i>Point
-gained by Geoffrey Bruce and Finch.</i> 5. <i>The Summit.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img330b">
-<img src="images/img330b.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>Monsoon clouds.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 330.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>From the North Col to Camp III, we had in Captain Noel an invaluable
-addition to our party. He formed our rear-guard and nursed us safely
-down the steep snow and ice slopes on to the almost level basin of the
-glacier below. Within forty minutes after leaving the Col, we arrived
-in Camp III. Since midday, from our highest point we had descended over
-six thousand feet, but we were quite finished. The brightest memory
-that remains with me of that night is dinner. Four quails truffled
-in <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pâté de foie gras</i>, followed by nine sausages, only left me
-asking for more. With the remains of a tin of toffee tucked away in the
-crook of my elbow, I fell asleep in the depths of my warm sleeping-bag.</p>
-
-<p>Next morning an inspection by Somervell, who had returned to Camp III
-during our attempt on Everest, showed that Geoffrey Bruce’s feet were
-sorely frost-bitten. I had well-nigh escaped, though four small patches
-of frost-bite, due to the cold which had penetrated the half-inch
-thick soles of my boots and three pairs of woollen socks, made walking
-unpleasant. I was also weak. The result was that both of us were piled
-on to a sledge and dragged by willing porters down over the glacier
-until its surface became too rough. I then discovered that I could walk
-quite well; presumably I had been lazy in the morning. But Geoffrey
-Bruce fared less well, and had to be assisted back to Camp II. And so
-from camp to camp the weary return journey dragged on. The sense of
-failure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</span> was with us. We had set out with one resolve—to get to the
-summit. The realisation that we had at least established the record for
-high climbing had not yet dawned upon us, and when it did, it afforded
-but scant consolation. With fine weather and but one night at our high
-camp, with Geoffrey Bruce, whose stout-heartedness made good to a great
-extent his inexperience of mountaineering and consequent uneconomic
-use of his strength, Mount Everest would in all probability have been
-climbed. I shall always be grateful to Geoffrey Bruce, not only for
-the confidence he placed in me, but also for the backing he gave me
-throughout our climb—and afterwards.</p>
-
-<p>The descent from Camp I to the Base was perhaps the roughest and most
-trying march of all. Great was the rivalry amongst the porters as to
-who should have the honour of carrying Geoffrey Bruce, the condition
-of whose feet would not permit of his walking down those almost
-interminable moraines with their harassing stones. Even the worst
-journey must come to an end, however, and at last, on the afternoon of
-May 29, we were being accorded the warmest of welcomes by the General
-and the other members of the expedition at the Base Camp.</p>
-
-<p>The next few days were spent in resting. But I underwent the same
-experience as the members of the first climbing party; instead of
-recovering strength rapidly during the first three or four days, if
-anything, a further decline took place. However, as the immediate
-weather prospects seemed good, although it was obvious that the monsoon
-must shortly break, it was decided to make a third attempt upon the
-mountain.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img51">
-<img src="images/img51.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>On the return journey to the Base Camp.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 332.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Somervell was, by now, undoubtedly the fittest of the climbing members
-of the expedition, with Mallory a good second. Both had enjoyed some
-ten days’ rest since their first assault upon Mount Everest and had,
-therefore, had some chance of recovering from the abnormal strain to
-which they had been subjected. Medical opinion as to my condition after
-so brief a respite of only four days was somewhat divided; but in the
-end I was allowed to join in the third attempt.</p>
-
-<p>On June 3, we left the Base Camp. The party consisted of Wakefield as
-medical officer, Crawford and, later, Morris as transport officers,
-with Mallory, Somervell and myself as climbers. Oxygen was to be used,
-and I was placed in command. It was a great struggle for me to get
-to Camp I, and I had to realise that the few days’ rest at the Base
-Camp had been quite inadequate to allow of my recuperation, and that
-no useful object would be served by my proceeding farther. Snow fell
-during the night. Next morning, after giving Somervell final detailed
-instructions regarding the oxygen apparatus, I returned once more to
-the Base Camp. As Strutt and Longstaff were leaving on the following
-day to escort the badly frost-bitten Morshead to Darjeeling, I was
-given, and availed myself of, the opportunity of accompanying them.</p>
-
-<p>The next news I heard of the third attempt upon Mount Everest was
-gleaned from the columns of a Sunday newspaper, shortly after landing
-in Dover some six weeks later. I read that an avalanche had destroyed
-seven of our gallant mountain comrades, the Nepalese porters. This
-disastrous accident had terminated the third attempt on Mount Everest
-before even the North Col had been gained.</p>
-
-<p>Mount Everest, the Goddess Mother of the Snows, with all her formidable
-array of natural defences, had conquered. But the value of reasoned
-determination, unwavering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</span> confidence, really warm and wind-proof
-clothing and, last but not least, the proven worth of oxygen—weapons
-to break down the innermost defences of even the highest mountain in
-the world—are now, perhaps, better understood.</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes p2"><p class="big center p1"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Swiss abbreviation for “Gertrude.”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> By means of theodolite observations made from a single
-point near the Base Camp, this height has worked out at 26,985 feet.
-According to Col. S. G. Burrard and H. H. Hayden, <i>A Sketch of
-the Geography and Geology of the Himalaya Mountains and Tibet</i>,
-Calcutta, 1907-1909, this height is exceeded by only eight mountain
-summits, all of which are in the Himalayas.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> My action in sending Tejbir back alone has, I believe,
-been criticised. There is no need to labour the point. I was the
-responsible person and the sole judge of circumstances, and I acted for
-what then appeared to me, and subsequently proved to be, the best.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> In my previous accounts of the climb, I practically
-ignored this incident. Recently, however, <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Longstaff published
-in the <i>Alpine Journal</i> an article in which he describes the
-happening at some length. I believe that the story was related to him
-by Captain Geoffrey Bruce.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> To those who attribute our retreat to the fear of a
-possible second failure of the oxygen apparatus, I say that such
-a prospect cost me not one moment of apprehension; I knew I was
-equal to such an emergency. Neither were our actions influenced by
-discouragement or indifference—we cared terribly about reaching our
-goal. The fact that we took cameras, but omitted to use them, has been
-construed as evidence of forgetfulness and change in mental attitude
-induced by the height. Before leaving our high camp, Geoffrey Bruce and
-I had carefully made our plans. We realised that we would have little
-time to spare, and that the cold would be too intense to permit of
-reloading the cameras. Therefore, in camp, we had loaded each of the
-cameras with one spool and jealously saved all the exposures for the
-summit views. Neither the summit nor the pictures materialised for us.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="b2"><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> By means of theodolite observations made from a single
-point near the Base Camp, this height has worked out at 27,235 feet.
-This latter height is calculated on the assumption that the altitude of
-Mount Everest is 29,002 feet. It may be of interest to note, however,
-that the mean of numerous observations made by the Survey of India
-from twelve different stations places the height of Everest at 29,141
-feet. This figure has not yet been finally corrected for deviation of
-gravity. When due allowance for this has been made the height of Mount
-Everest will probably be found to be about 29,200 feet. In the same way
-the point reached by Geoffrey Bruce and myself works out at (27,235 +
-198) = 27,433 feet; a height that is exceeded, as far as I know, by
-four mountains, all in the Himalayas; namely, Mount Everest, K2 (28,250
-<abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>), Kanchenjunga (28,150 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>) and Makalu (27,790 <abbr title="feet">ft.</abbr>).</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak reg" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br />
-<span class="vsmall">MOUNTAINEERING PHOTOGRAPHY</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap p1"><span class="smcap">Not</span> the least of the rewards of mountaineering are the memories of
-mountain comrades and adventures which cheer those of the true faith
-through the humdrum existence of ordinary life. The camera enables
-us to retain a faithful picture of the many striking incidents, the
-wonderful surroundings and the fellow-actors who have played with us
-in the great game; so that photography, like a keen and accurately
-observant sixth sense, helps to keep our mountain memories fresh and
-true for all time. Given no other, this, by itself, were sufficient
-reason why a camera should accompany us on our travels.</p>
-
-<p>A distinction should be drawn between photography of mountains and
-mountaineering photography. The former is a pursuit indulged in by
-those who are, for the most part, content to take photographs of
-mountain scenery from valleys, railways, roads, paths or other easily
-accessible points of view. In such cases, photography is the chief
-object; any mountaineering that may be done is, as a rule, of the
-simplest kind and undertaken chiefly for the sake of photography. By
-“mountaineering photography,” on the other hand, I would designate
-the use to which the mountaineer puts the camera; to him, climbing is
-the main object, and photography merely an incidental side issue. To
-the photographer, the weight and bulk of his photographic apparatus
-is of minor importance; but the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">bona-fide</i> climber<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</span> must cut
-down the weight of his photographic equipment to a minimum, and any
-photography he may indulge in must interfere as little as possible with
-the pursuit of the ruling passion. His camera must be so simple that
-pictures can be taken quickly and without waste of time. The scenes
-most worthy of record frequently give little warning of their approach
-and are of short duration; and, unless the camera is one which can be
-quickly manipulated, the opportunity will be gone before the record
-can be secured. The mountaineer is, therefore, confined to the use of
-a simple, light camera of small and convenient dimensions. The opinion
-is widely expressed in books on mountain photography that good results
-are only obtainable with stand cameras and glass plates—the heaviest
-and most inconvenient type of photographic equipment. To-day, this is
-no longer the case. Lenses, folding cameras sufficiently small and
-compact to fit into one’s pocket, and the celluloid film negative have
-been brought to such a state of perfection that, with their aid, the
-climber can secure photographs which not only compete successfully from
-the point of view of quality with the results obtained with far more
-elaborate apparatus, but also far excel the latter in quantity.</p>
-
-<p>The choice of camera is governed, in the first place, by the size of
-the negative required. In contact copies, from the smaller sizes of
-negatives, details, often of value, are too readily overlooked and
-usually appear to proper advantage only on enlargement. Particularly so
-is this the case with regard to pictorial effect. Enlargements to more
-than six or seven diameters show up faulty definition to an exaggerated
-degree, and the grain of the emulsion often becomes disturbingly
-evident. The smallest size of negative which may be regarded as
-sufficiently free from these drawbacks is 2¹⁄₂ × 3¹⁄₂<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</span> inches, a size
-which permits of satisfactory enlargement up to the pleasing dimensions
-of 12 × 15 or even 15 × 20 inches. As, however, a quarter-plate size
-(3¹⁄₄ × 4¹⁄₄ inches) camera is procurable which is handy, simple to
-use, and is neither too bulky nor too heavy, the mountaineer would
-do best to be on the safe side and adopt this as his standard. There
-is no need to peer into or use a magnifying glass when looking at a
-quarter-plate size contact print. Its pictorial value can be easily
-judged, the proportions of the shape are pleasing, and it enlarges well.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img52">
-<img src="images/img52.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>In a mountain hut.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>A portrait study.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 336.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>Having chosen the size of the camera, it is necessary to decide whether
-plates, flat films, pack films, or roll films are to be employed. For
-the mountaineer, plates are out of the question; they are too heavy,
-too easily damaged and too slow to bring into use. Owing, however,
-to the standard of excellence attained in the manufacture of various
-types of films, there can nowadays be no advantage in preferring
-plates, even if weight were not a consideration. Also, in the matter
-of expense, there is little difference between the cost of plates and
-that of films. As far as the climber is concerned, flat films (“cut
-films”) suffer from the same defect as plates, in that they take too
-much time to use. Pack films are free from this disadvantage, but
-the packages in which they are contained will not stand rough usage;
-they are somewhat readily damaged, with the result that light may be
-admitted. The roll-film is the negative material <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">par excellence</i>
-for the mountaineer. In a suitably designed camera, the best makes
-lie perfectly flat. Their bulk and weight are less than those of any
-other type of negative. Easily packed in air- and waterproof packages
-which can be sealed with adhesive plaster, they are practically
-unbreakable and will withstand extraordinarily rough handling. They are
-quickly changed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</span> in broad daylight, free from halation effects, and
-twelve exposures can be developed together, with little more trouble
-than attends the developing of a single plate or flat-film negative.
-These are but a few of the great advantages of roll films from the
-mountaineer’s point of view. Hence the ideal camera for the climber is
-a quarter-plate size, roll-film, folding model.</p>
-
-<p>In choosing such a camera, attention should be paid to the following
-points. The camera should be light, yet strong. It should be as simple
-as possible and provided only with such mechanism as is essential to
-the taking of good photographs. All superfluous accessories should be
-dispensed with. The essential features of a camera are these:—</p>
-
-<p>The back must fit light-tight on to the body. The film-winding
-mechanism contained in the body should be such that the film is held
-flat and not scratched on winding. The bellows should be strong and
-light-tight and should be periodically examined for pin-holes when
-the camera is in use. Pin-holes, when they occur, are easily repaired
-by sticking over them a piece of adhesive plaster which can then
-be blackened with ink or charcoal. The side-struts should lock the
-base-board firmly when the camera is opened. The front-grip should
-slide smoothly in the runners and yet fit well, so that when the camera
-is opened the front standard is held rigid. The shutter is an item of
-great importance; its timing should be calibrated, and its mechanism
-be of such a design that the opening and closing movements are as
-rapid as possible, thus enabling the passing of the maximum amount of
-light during the time of exposure. The two most important speeds of
-the shutter are the ¹⁄₅₀ of a second and a high speed such as ¹⁄₂₅₀
-or ¹⁄₃₀₀ of a second. It is difficult to hold a camera sufficiently
-steady to ensure accurate definition with a lesser<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</span> speed than ¹⁄₅₀
-of a second, and this, in the vast <a id="majority"></a>majority of cases, will be the
-standard shutter speed employed. Occasionally, when photographing a
-rapidly-moving object, such as an avalanche, or a climber jumping a
-crevasse, the fastest available shutter speed should be used. Integral
-with the shutter mechanism is the stop, preferably an iris diaphragm.
-The quantity of light allowed to fall upon the negative should be
-controlled as far as possible by means of the stop alone, the shutter
-speed being kept always at ¹⁄₅₀ of a second save in exceptional
-circumstances. The lens is one of the chief keys to successful
-photography. From personal experience of many different makes of
-lenses, I can unhesitatingly recommend the following: Kodak Anastigmats
-f: 6.3 and f: 4.5, Goerz Dagor or Dogmar f: 4.5 and Zeiss Tessar f:
-4.5. These four give excellent definition, and the last is particularly
-suitable for taking photographs for map-making purposes. For a
-quarter-plate camera, the focal length should, as a rule, be 4 to 5
-inches, rather nearer the former than the latter. The lens, when fitted
-and the camera opened, must be truly centred with the axis at right
-angles to the plane of the negative. The view-finder should include
-no more and no less of the object to be photographed than is actually
-projected by the lens on to the negative. The focussing scale must be
-accurately graduated for the lens with which the camera is fitted, and
-should be provided with an automatic infinity stop which is free from
-backlash. Both focussing scale and infinity stop, but particularly
-the latter, must be set with the greatest possible accuracy. This
-will nearly always be the case in a camera of reputable make secured
-from the makers themselves. A short cable release is an advantage; it
-enables one to hold the camera more steady when an exposure is being
-made. It goes without saying that the camera should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</span> be of the best
-material and workmanship throughout. One of the best makes of cameras
-procurable and suitable for the mountaineer is the Folding Pocket Kodak
-Number 3.</p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img53">
-<img src="images/img53.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Aiguille du Géant.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>Clearing mists.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center"><span class="figcenter" id="img54">
-<img src="images/img54.jpg" class="w100" alt="" />
-</span></p>
-<p class="center caption"><i>The Sella Pass.</i></p>
-<p class="center small"><i>Approaching thunderstorm.</i></p>
-<p class="right small"><i>Facing page 338.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r50" />
-
-<p>The estimation of correct exposure is a difficult matter for many
-beginners in mountaineering photography. The following may serve as a
-rough guide. In the summer months between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5
-p.m., when above the snow-line, snow scenes require ¹⁄₅₀ of a second
-and about stop f: 20; rock scenes ¹⁄₅₀ of a second, stop f: 10. Distant
-snow scenes and distant mountain ranges need ¹⁄₅₀ of a second, stop f:
-30. I do not recommend exposure meters, chiefly because their use takes
-up too much time. For development, I advocate the use of Kodak daylight
-developing tanks with the special developers prepared by that firm. The
-negative of almost every photograph used in the illustration of the
-present book was developed in the Kodak daylight developing tank.</p>
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter transnote">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note">Transcriber’s Note:</h2>
-
-
-<p>Minor errors and omissions in punctuation have been fixed. Inconsistent
-hyphenation has been standardized. Original spellings have been left as
-in the original text unless listed below. Small-caps font has been
-capitalized in the text version.</p>
-
-<p>Page 150: “bridge over a bergshcrund” changed to “<a href="#bridge">bridge over a
-bergschrund</a>”.</p>
-
-<p>Page 173: “He assured he” changed to “<a href="#assured">He assured me</a>”.</p>
-
-<p>Page 257: “ensuing be-pinnicled portion” changed to “<a href="#pinnacle">ensuing
-be-pinnacled portion</a>”.</p>
-
-<p>Page 339: “majority or cases” changed to “<a href="#majority">majority of cases</a>”.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF A MOUNTAINEER ***</div>
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