The Ascent Of The Matterhorn Part 10

I should have answered with humility, "It is too true." And had my monitor gone on to say, "Swear you will never ascend another mountain if you get down safely," I am inclined to think I should have taken the oath. In fact, the game here was not worth the risk. The guides felt it as well as ourselves, and as Almer led off, he remarked, with more piety than logic, "The good G.o.d has brought us up, and he will take us down in safety,"

which showed pretty well what _he_ was thinking about.

The ridge down which we now endeavoured to make our way was not inferior in difficulty to the other. But were serrated to an extent that made it impossible to keep strictly to them, and obliged us to descend occasionally for some distance on the northern face and then mount again.

Both were so rotten that the most experienced of our party, as well as the least, continually upset blocks large and small. Both aretes were so narrow, so thin, that it was often a matter for speculation on which side an unstable block would fall.

At one point it seemed that we should be obliged to return to the summit and try the other way down. We were on the very edge of the arete. On one side was the enormous precipice facing the Pelvoux, which is not far from perpendicular; on the other a slope exceeding 50. A deep notch brought us to an abrupt halt. Almer, who was leading, advanced cautiously to the edge on hands and knees, and peered over; his care was by no means unnecessary, for the rocks had broken away from under us unexpectedly several times. In this position he gazed down for some moments, and then, without a word, turned his head and looked at us. His face _may_ have expressed apprehension or alarm, but it certainly did not show hope or joy. We learned that there was no means of getting down, and that we must, if we wanted to pa.s.s the notch, jump across on to an unstable block on the other side. It was decided that it should be done, and Almer, with a larger extent of rope than usual, jumped. The rock swayed as he came down upon it, but he clutched a large ma.s.s with both arms and brought himself to anchor. That which was both difficult and dangerous for the first man was easy enough for the others, and we got across with less trouble than I expected; stimulated by Croz's perfectly just observation, that if we couldn't get across there we were not likely to get down the other way.

We had now arrived at *C* and could no longer continue on the arete, so we commenced descending the face again. Before long we were close to the schrund, but unable to see what it was like at this part, as the upper edge bent over. Two hours had already pa.s.sed since leaving the summit, and it began to be highly probable that we should have to spend a night on the Glacier Blanc. Almer, who yet led, cut steps right down to the edge, but still he could not see below; therefore, warning us to hold tight, he made his whole body rigid, and (standing in the large step which he had cut for the purpose), had the upper part of his person lowered out until he saw what he wanted. He shouted that our work was finished, made me come close to the edge and untie myself, advanced the others until he had rope enough, and then with a loud _jodel_ jumped down on to soft snow. Partly by skill and partly by luck he had hit the creva.s.se at its easiest point, and we had only to make a downward jump of eight or ten feet.

We had been more than eight hours and a half accomplis.h.i.+ng the ascent of the final peak, which, according to an observation by Mr. Bonney in 1862, is only 525 feet high.(112) During this period we had not stopped for more than half-an-hour, and our nerves and muscles had been kept at the highest degree of tension the whole time. It may be imagined that we accepted the ordinary conditions of glacier travelling as an agreeable relief, and that that which at another time might have seemed formidable we treated as the veriest bagatelle. Late in the day as it was, and soft as was the snow, we put on such pace that we reached the Col des Ecrins in less than forty minutes. We lost no time in arranging our baggage, for we had still to traverse a long glacier, and to get clear of two ice-falls before it was dark; so, at 5.35 we resumed the march, adjourning eating and drinking, and put on a spurt which took us clear of the Glacier Blanc by 7.45 P.M.(113) We got off the moraine of the Glacier Noir at 8.45, just as the last remnant of daylight vanished. Croz and myself were a trifle in advance of the others, and fortunately so for us; for as they were about to commence the descent of the snout of the glacier, the whole of the moraine that rested on its face peeled off, and came down with a tremendous roar.

We had now the pleasure of walking over a plain that is known by the name of the Pre de Madame Carle, covered with pebbles of all sizes, and intersected by numerous small streams or torrents. Every hole looked like a stone, every stone like a hole, and we tumbled about from side to side until our limbs and our tempers became thoroughly jaded. My companions, being both short-sighted, found the travelling especially disagreeable; so there was little wonder that when we came upon a huge ma.s.s of rock as big as a house, which had fallen from the flanks of Pelvoux, a regular cube that offered no shelter whatever, Moore cried out in ecstasy, "Oh, how delightful! the very thing I have been longing for. Let us have a perfectly extemporaneous bivouac." This, it should be said, was when the night threatened thunder and lightning, rain, and all other delights.

The pleasures of a perfectly extemporaneous bivouac under these circ.u.mstances not being novelties to Croz and myself, we thought we would try for the miseries of a roof; but Walker and Almer, with their usual good nature, declared it was the very thing that they, too, were longing for; so the trio resolved to stop. We generously left them all the provisions (a dozen cubic inches or thereabouts of bacon fat, and half a candle), and pushed on for the chalets of Alefroide, or at least we thought we did, but could not be certain. In the course of half-an-hour we got uncommonly close to the main torrent, and Croz all at once disappeared. I stepped cautiously forward to peer down into the place where I thought he was, and quietly tumbled head over heels into a big rhododendron bush. Extricating myself with some trouble, I fell backwards over some rocks, and got wedged in a cleft so close to the torrent that it splashed all over me.

The colloquy which then ensued amid the thundering of the stream was as follows:-

"Hullo, Croz!" "Eh, Monsieur." "Where _are_ you?" "Here, Monsieur." "Where _is_ here?" "I don't know; where are _you_?" "Here, Croz;" and so on.

The fact was, from the intense darkness, and the noise of the torrent, we had no idea of each other's situation. In the course of ten minutes, however, we joined together again, agreed we had had quite enough of that kind of thing, and adjourned to a most eligible rock at 10.15.

How well I remember the night at that rock, and the jolly way in which Croz came out! We were both very wet about the legs, and both uncommonly hungry, but the time pa.s.sed pleasantly enough round our fire of juniper, and until long past midnight we sat up recounting, over our pipes, wonderful stories of the most incredible description, in which I must admit, my companion beat me hollow. Then throwing ourselves on our beds of rhododendron, we slept an untroubled sleep, and rose on a bright Sunday morning as fresh as might be, intending to enjoy a day's rest and luxury with our friends at La Ville de Val Louise.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A NIGHT WITH CROZ.]

I have failed to give the impression I wish if it has not been made evident that the ascent of the Pointe des Ecrins was not an ordinary piece of work. There is an increasing disposition now-a-days amongst those who write on the Alps, to underrate the difficulties and dangers which are met with, and this disposition is, I think, not less mischievous than the old-fas.h.i.+oned style of making everything terrible. Difficult as we found the peak, I believe we took it at the best, perhaps the only possible, time of the year. The great slope on which we spent so much time was, from being denuded by the avalanche of which I have spoken, deprived of its greatest danger. Had it had the snow still resting upon it, and had we persevered with the expedition, we should almost without doubt have ended with calamity instead of success. The ice of that slope is always below, its angle is severe, and the rocks do not project sufficiently to afford the support that snow requires, to be stable, when at a great angle. So far am I from desiring to tempt any one to repeat the expedition, that I put it on record as my belief, however sad and however miserable a man may have been, if he is found on the summit of the Pointe des Ecrins after a fall of new snow, he is likely to experience misery far deeper than anything with which he has. .h.i.therto been acquainted.(114)

CHAPTER IX.

FROM VAL LOUISE TO LA BeRARDE BY THE COL DE PILATTE.(115)

"How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger."

EURIPIDES.

From Ailefroide to Claux, but for the path, travel would be scarcely more easy than over the Pre de Madame Carle.(116) The valley is strewn with immense ma.s.ses of gneiss, from the size of a large house downwards, and it is only occasionally that rock _in situ_ is seen, so covered up is it by the debris, which seems to have been derived almost entirely from the neighbouring cliffs.

It was Sunday, a "day most calm and bright." Golden sunlight had dispersed the clouds, and was glorifying the heights, and we forgot hunger through the brilliancy of the morning and beauty of the mountains.

We meant the 26th to be a day of rest, but it was little that we found in the _cabaret_ of Claude Giraud, and we fled before the babel of sound which rose in intensity as men descended to a depth which is unattainable by the beasts of the field, and found at the chalets of Entraigues(117) the peace that had been denied to us at Val Louise.

Again we were received with the most cordial hospitality. Everything that was eatable or drinkable was brought out and pressed upon us; every little curiosity was exhibited; every information that could be afforded was given; and when we retired to our clean straw, we again congratulated each other that we had escaped from the foul den which is where a good inn should be, and had cast in our lot with those who dwell in chalets. Very luxurious that straw seemed after two nights upon quartz pebbles and glacier mud, and I felt quite aggrieved (expecting it was the summons for departure) when, about midnight, the heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, and a man hem'd and ha'd to attract attention; but when it whispered, "Monsieur Edvard," I perceived my mistake,-it was our Pelvoux companion, Monsieur Reynaud, the excellent _agent-voyer_ of La Bessee.

Monsieur Reynaud had been invited to accompany us on the excursion that is described in this chapter, but had arrived at Val Louise after we had left, and had energetically pursued us during the night. Our idea was that a pa.s.s might be made over the high ridge called (on the French map) Crete de Bufs Rouges,(118) near to the peak named Les Bans, and that it might be the shortest route in time (as it certainly would be in distance) from Val Louise, across the Central Dauphine Alps. We had seen the northern (or Pilatte) side from the Breche de la Meije, and it seemed to be practicable at one place near the above-mentioned mountain. More than that could not be told at a distance of eleven miles. We intended to try to hit a point on the ridge immediately above the part where it seemed to be easiest.

We left Entraigues at 3.30 on the morning of June 27, and proceeded, over very gently-inclined ground, towards the foot of the Pic de Bonvoisin (following in fact the route of the Col de Sellar, which leads from the Val Louise into the Val G.o.demar);(119) and at 5 A.M., finding that there was no chance of obtaining a view from the bottom of the valley of the ridge over which our route was to be taken, sent Almer up the lower slopes of the Bonvoisin to reconnoitre. He telegraphed that we might proceed; and at 5.45 we quitted the snow-beds at the bottom of the valley for the slopes which rose towards the north.

The course was N.N.W., and was prodigiously steep. _In less than two miles difference of lat.i.tude we rose one mile of absolute height._ But the route was so far from being an exceptionally difficult one, that at 10.45 we stood on the summit of the pa.s.s, having made an ascent of more than 5000 feet in five hours, inclusive of halts.

Upon sheet 189 of the French map a glacier is laid down on the south of the Crete des Bufs Rouges, extending along the entire length of the ridge, at its foot, from east to west. In 1864 this glacier did not exist as _one_ glacier, but in the place where it should have been there were several small ones, all of which were, I believe, separated from each other.(120)

We commenced the ascent from the Val d'Entraigues, to the west of the most western of these small glaciers, and quitted the valley by the first great gap in its cliffs after that glacier was pa.s.sed. We did not take to the ice until it afforded an easier route than the rocks; then (8.30) Croz went to the front, and led with admirable skill through a maze of creva.s.ses up to the foot of a great snow _couloir_, that rose from the head of the glacier to the summit of the ridge over which we had to pa.s.s.

We had settled beforehand in London, without knowing anything whatever about the place, that such a couloir as this should be in this angle; but when we got into the Val d'Entraigues, and found that it was not possible to see into the corner, our faith in its existence became less and less, until the telegraphing of Almer, who was sent up the opposite slopes to search for it, a.s.sured us that we were true prophets.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SNOW COULOIR.]

Snow _couloirs_ are nothing more or less than gullies partly filled by snow. They are most useful inst.i.tutions, and may be considered as natural highways placed, by a kind Providence, in convenient situations for getting over places which would otherwise be inaccessible. They are a joy to the mountaineer, and, from afar, a.s.sure him of a path when all beside is uncertain; but they are grief to novices, who, when upon steep snow, are usually seized with two notions-first, that the snow will slip, and secondly, that those who are upon it must slip too.

Nothing, perhaps, could look much more unpromising to those who do not know the virtues of couloirs than such a place as the engraving represents,(121) and if persons inexperienced in mountain craft had occasion to cross a ridge or to climb rocks, in which there were such couloirs, they would instinctively avoid them. But practised mountaineers would naturally look to them for a path, and would follow them almost as a matter of course, unless they turned out to be filled with ice, or too much swept by falling stones, or the rock at the sides proved to be of such an exceptional character as to afford an easier path than the snow.

Couloirs look prodigiously steep when seen from the front, and, so viewed, it is impossible to be certain of their inclination within many degrees.

Snow, however, does actually lie at steeper angles in couloirs than in any other situations;-45 to 50 degrees is not an uncommon inclination. Even at such angles, two men with proper axes can mount on snow at the rate of 700 to 800 feet per hour. The same amount can only be accomplished in the same time on steep rocks when they are of the very easiest character, and four or five hours may be readily spent upon an equal height of difficult rocks. Snow couloirs are therefore to be commended because they economise time.

Of course, in all gullies, one is liable to be encountered by falling stones. Most of those which fall from the rocks of a couloir, sooner or later spin down the snow which fills the trough; and, as their course and pace are more clearly apparent when falling over snow than when jumping from ledge to ledge, persons with lively imaginations are readily impressed by them. The grooves which are usually seen wandering down the length of snow couloirs are deepened (and, perhaps, occasionally originated) by falling stones, and they are sometimes pointed out by cautious men as reasons why couloirs should not be followed. I think they are very frequently only gutters, caused by water trickling off the rocks.

Whether this is so or not, one should always consider the possibility of being struck by falling stones, and, in order to lessen the risk as far as possible, should mount upon the sides of the snow, and not up its centre.

Stones that come off the rocks will then generally fly over one's head, or bound down the middle of the trough at a safe distance.

At 9.30 A.M. we commenced the ascent of the couloir leading from the nameless glacier to a point in the ridge, just to the east of Mont Bans.(122) So far the route had been nothing more than a steep grind in an angle where little could be seen, but now views opened out in several directions, and the way began to be interesting. It was more so, perhaps, to us than to our companion M. Reynaud, who had no rest in the last night.

He was, moreover, heavily laden. Science was to be regarded-his pockets were stuffed with books; heights and angles were to be observed-his knapsack was filled with instruments; hunger was to be guarded against-his shoulders were ornamented with a huge nimbus of bread, and a leg of mutton swung behind from his knapsack, looking like an overgrown tail. Being a good-hearted fellow, he had brought this food, thinking we might be in need of it. As it happened, we were well provided for, and having our own packs to carry, could not relieve him of his superfluous burdens, which, naturally, he did not like to throw away. As the angles steepened, the strain on his strength became more and more apparent. At last he began to groan. At first a most gentle and mellow groan; but as we rose so did his groans, till at last the cliffs were groaning in echo, and we were moved to laughter.

Croz cut the way with unflagging energy throughout the whole of the ascent, and at 10.45 we stood on the summit of our pa.s.s, intending to refresh ourselves with a good halt. Unhappily, at that moment a mist, which had been playing about the ridge, swooped down and blotted out the whole of the view on the northern side. Croz was the only one who caught a glimpse of the descent, and it was deemed advisable to push on immediately, while its recollection was fresh in his memory. We are consequently unable to tell anything about the summit of the pa.s.s, except that it lies immediately to the east of Mont Bans, and is elevated about 11,300 feet above the level of the sea. It is the highest pa.s.s in Dauphine. We called it the Col de Pilatte.

We commenced to descend towards the Glacier de Pilatte by a slope of smooth ice, the face of which, according to the measurement of Mr. Moore, had an inclination of 54! Croz still led, and the others followed at intervals of about 15 feet, all being tied together, and Almer occupying the responsible position of last man. The two guides were therefore about 70 feet apart. They were quite invisible to each other from the mist, and looked spectral even to us. But the _strong_ man could be heard by all hewing out the steps below, while every now and then the voice of the _steady_ man pierced the cloud,-"Slip not, dear sirs; place well your feet: stir not until you are certain."

For three quarters of an hour we progressed in this fas.h.i.+on. The axe of Croz all at once stopped. "What is the matter, Croz?" "Bergschrund, gentlemen." "Can we get over?" "Upon my word, I don't know; I think we must jump." The clouds rolled away right and left as he spoke. The effect was dramatic! It was a _coup de theatre_, preparatory to the "great sensation leap" which was about to be executed by the entire company.

Some unseen cause, some cliff or obstruction in the rocks underneath, had caused our wall of ice to split into two portions, and the huge fissure which had thus been formed extended, on each hand, as far as could be seen. We, on the slope above, were separated from the slope below by a mighty creva.s.se. No running up and down to look for an easier place to cross could be done on an ice-slope of 54; the chasm had to be pa.s.sed then and there.

A downward jump of 15 or 16 feet, and a forward leap of 7 or 8 feet had to be made at the same time. That is not much, you will say. It was not much; it was not the quant.i.ty, but it was the quality of the jump which gave to it its particular flavour. You had to hit a narrow ridge of ice. If that was pa.s.sed, it seemed as if you might roll down for ever and ever. If it was not attained, you dropped into the creva.s.se below; which, although partly choked by icicles and snow that had fallen from above, was still gaping in many places, ready to receive an erratic body.

Croz untied Walker in order to get rope enough, and warning us to hold fast, sprang over the chasm. He alighted cleverly on his feet; untied himself and sent up the rope to Walker, who followed his example. It was then my turn, and I advanced to the edge of the ice. The second which followed was what is called a supreme moment. That is to say, I felt supremely ridiculous. The world seemed to revolve at a frightful pace, and my stomach to fly away. The next moment I found myself sprawling in the snow, and then, of course, vowed that _it was nothing_, and prepared to encourage my friend Reynaud.

He came to the edge and made declarations. I do not believe that he was a whit more reluctant to pa.s.s the place than we others, but he was infinitely more demonstrative,-in a word, he was French. He wrung his hands, "Oh! what a _diable_ of a place!" "It is nothing, Reynaud," I said, "it is _nothing_." "Jump," cried the others, "jump." But he turned round, as far as one can do such a thing in an ice-step, and covered his face with his hands, ejaculating, "Upon my word, it is not possible. No! no!!

no!!! it is not possible."

How he came over I do not know. We saw a toe-it seemed to belong to Moore; we saw Reynaud a flying body, coming down as if taking a header into water; with arms and legs all abroad, his leg of mutton flying in the air, his baton escaped from his grasp; and then we heard a thud as if a bundle of carpets had been pitched out of a window. When set upon his feet he was a sorry spectacle; his head was a great s...o...b..ll; brandy was trickling out of one side of the knapsack, chartreuse out of the other-we bemoaned its loss, but we roared with laughter.

This chapter has already pa.s.sed the limits within which it should have been confined, but I cannot close it without paying tribute to the ability with which Croz led us, through a dense mist, down the remainder of the Glacier de Pilatte. As an exhibition of strength and skill, it has probably never been surpa.s.sed in the Alps or elsewhere. On this almost unknown and very steep glacier, he was perfectly at home, even in the mists. Never able to see fifty feet ahead, he still went on with the utmost certainty, and without having to retrace a single step; and displayed from first to last consummate knowledge of the materials with which he was dealing. Now he cut steps down one side of a _serac_, went with a dash at the other side, and hauled us up after him; then cut away along a ridge until a point was gained from which we could jump on to another ridge; then, doubling back, found a snow-bridge, across which he crawled on hands and knees, towed us across by the legs, ridiculing our apprehensions, mimicking our awkwardness, declining all help, bidding us only to follow him.

About 1 P.M. we emerged from the mist and found ourselves just arrived upon the level portion of the glacier, having, as Reynaud properly remarked, come down as quickly as if there had not been any mist at all.