The Ascent Of The Matterhorn Part 9

[Ill.u.s.tration: Diagram to show angle of summit of Meije, etc.]

The village of La Grave is just 5000 feet, and the highest summit of the Meije is 13,080 feet above the level of the sea. There is therefore a difference in their levels of 8080 feet. But the summit of the Meije is south of La Grave about 14,750 feet, and, consequently, a line drawn from La Grave to the summit of the Meije is no steeper than the dotted line drawn from *A* to *C*, Fig. 1; or, in other words, if one could go in a direct line from La Grave to the summit of the Meije the ascent would be at an angle of less than 30. Nine persons out of ten would probably estimate the angle on the spot at double this amount.(102)

The Breche is 2000 feet below the summit of the Meije, and only 6000 feet above La Grave. A direct ascent from the village to the Breche would consequently be at an angle of not much more than 20. But it is not possible to make the ascent as the crow flies; it has to be made by an indirect and much longer route. Our track was probably double the length of a direct line between the two places. Doubling the length halved the angles, and we therefore arrive at the somewhat amazing conclusion, that upon this, one of the steepest pa.s.ses in the Alps, the mean of all the angles upon the ascent could not have been greater than 11 or 12. Of course, in some places, the angles were much steeper, and in others less, but the _mean_ of the whole could not have pa.s.sed the angle above indicated.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE VALLON DES ETANcONS (LOOKING TOWARDS LA BeRARDE).(103)]

We did not trouble ourselves much with these matters when we sat on the top of the Breche. Our day's work was as good as over (for we knew from Messrs. Mathews and Bonney that there was no difficulty upon the other side), and we abandoned ourselves to ease and luxury; wondering, alternately, as we gazed upon the Rateau and the Ecrins, how the one mountain could possibly hold itself together, and whether the other would hold out against us. The former looked [so rotten that it seemed as if a puff of wind or a clap of thunder might dash the whole fabric to pieces]; while the latter a.s.serted itself the monarch of the group, and towered head and shoulders above all the rest of the peaks which form the great horse-shoe of Dauphine. At length a cruel rush of cold air made us s.h.i.+ver, and s.h.i.+ft our quarters to a little gra.s.sy plot, 3000 feet below-an oasis in a desert-where we lay nearly four hours admiring the splendid wall of the Meije.(104) Then we tramped down the Vallon des Etancons, a howling wilderness, the abomination of desolation; dest.i.tute alike of animal or vegetable life; pathless, of course; suggestive of chaos, but of little else; covered almost throughout its entire length with debris from the size of a walnut up to that of a house; in a word, it looked as if half-a-dozen moraines of first-rate dimensions had been carted and shot into it. Our tempers were soured by constant pitfalls [it was impossible to take the eyes from the feet, and if an unlucky individual so much as blew his nose, without standing still to perform the operation, the result was either an instantaneous tumble, or a barked s.h.i.+n, or a half-twisted ankle. There was no end to it, and we became more savage at every step, unanimously agreeing that no power on earth would ever induce us to walk up or down this particular valley again.] It was not just to the valley, which was enclosed by n.o.ble mountains,-unknown, it is true, but worthy of a great reputation, and which, if placed in other districts, would be sought after, and cited as types of daring form and graceful outline.(105)

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE POINTE DES ECRINS.

"Filled with high mountains, rearing their heads as if to reach to heaven, crowned with glaciers, and fissured with immense chasms, where lie the eternal snows guarded by bare and rugged cliffs; offering the most varied sights, and enjoying all temperatures; and containing everything that is most curious and interesting, the most simple and the most sublime, the most smiling and the most severe, the most beautiful and the most awful; such is the department of the High Alps."

LADOUCETTE.

Before 5 o'clock on the afternoon of June 23, we were trotting down the steep path that leads into La Berarde. We put up, of course, with the cha.s.seur-guide Rodier (who, as usual, was smooth and smiling), and, after congratulations were over, we returned to the exterior to watch for the arrival of one Alexander Pic, who had been sent overnight with our baggage _via_ Freney and Venos. But when the night fell, and no Pic appeared, we saw that our plans must be modified; for he was necessary to our very existence-he carried our food, our tobacco, our all. So, after some discussion, it was agreed that a portion of our programme should be abandoned, that the night of the 24th should be pa.s.sed at the head of the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre, and that, on the 25th, a push should be made for the summit of the Ecrins. We then went to straw.

Our porter Pic strolled in next morning with a very jaunty air, and we seized upon our tooth-brushes; but, upon looking for the cigars, we found starvation staring us in the face. "Hullo! Monsieur Pic, where are our cigars?" "Gentlemen," he began, "I am desolated!" and then, quite pat, he told a long rigmarole about a fit on the road, of brigands, thieves, of their ransacking the knapsacks when he was insensible, and of finding them gone when he revived! "Ah! Monsieur Pic, we see what it is, you have smoked them yourself!" "Gentlemen, I never smoke, _never_!" Whereupon we inquired secretly if he was known to smoke, and found that he was.

However, he said that he had never spoken truer words, and perhaps he had not, for he is reported to be the greatest liar in Dauphine!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Map of the central Dauphine Alps]

We were now able to start, and set out at 1.15 P.M. to bivouac upon the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre, accompanied by Rodier, who staggered under a load of blankets. Many slopes had to be mounted, and many torrents to be crossed, all of which has been described by Mr. Tuckett.(106) We, however, avoided the difficulties he experienced with the latter by crossing them high up, where they were subdivided. But when we got on to the moraine on the right bank of the glacier (or, properly speaking, on to one of the moraines, for there are several), mists descended, to our great hindrance; and it was 5.30 before we arrived on the spot at which it was intended to camp.

Each one selected his nook, and we then joined round a grand fire made by our men. Fortnum and Mason's portable soup was sliced up and brewed, and was excellent; but it should be said that before it _was_ excellent, three times the quant.i.ty named in the directions had to be used. Art is required in drinking as in making this soup, and one point is this-always let your friends drink first; not only because it is more polite, but because the soup has a tendency to burn the mouth if taken too hot, and one drink of the bottom is worth two of the top, as all the goodness settles.

[While engaged in these operations, the mist that enveloped the glacier and surrounding peaks was becoming thinner; little bits of blue sky appeared here and there, until suddenly, when we were looking towards the head of the glacier, far, far above us, at an almost inconceivable height, in a tiny patch of blue, appeared a wonderful rocky pinnacle, bathed in the beams of the fast-sinking sun. We were so electrified by the glory of the sight that it was some seconds before we realised what we saw, and understood that that astounding point, removed apparently miles from the earth, was one of the highest summits of Les Ecrins; and that we hoped, before another sun had set, to have stood upon an even loftier pinnacle.

The mists rose and fell, presenting us with a series of dissolving views of ravis.h.i.+ng grandeur, and finally died away, leaving the glacier and its mighty bounding precipices under an exquisite pale blue sky, free from a single speck of cloud.]

The night pa.s.sed over without anything worth mention, but we had had occasion to observe in the morning an instance of the curious evaporation that is frequently noticeable in the High Alps. On the previous night we had hung up on a k.n.o.b of rock our mackintosh bag containing five bottles of Rodier's bad wine. In the morning, although the stopper appeared to have been in all night, about four-fifths had evaporated. It was strange; my friends had not taken any, neither had I, and the guides each declared that they had not seen any one touch it. In fact it was clear that there was no explanation of the phenomenon, but in the dryness of the air. Still it is remarkable that the dryness of the air (or the evaporation of wine) is always greatest when a stranger is in one's party-the dryness caused by the presence of even a single Chamounix porter is sometimes so great, that not four-fifths but the entire quant.i.ty disappears. For a time I found difficulty in combating this phenomenon, but at last discovered that if I used the wine-flask as a pillow during the night, the evaporation was completely stopped.

At 4 A.M. we moved off across the glacier in single file towards the foot of a great gully, which led from the upper slopes of the glacier de la Bonne Pierre, to the lowest point in the ridge that runs from the Ecrins to the mountain called Roche Faurio,-cheered by Rodier, who now returned with his wraps to La Berarde. This gully (or _couloir_) was discovered and descended by Mr. Tuckett, and we will now return for a minute to the explorations of that accomplished mountaineer.

In the year 1862 he had the good fortune to obtain from the _Depot de la Guerre_ at Paris, a MS. copy of the then unpublished sheet 189 of the map of France, and with it in hand, he swept backwards and forwards across the central Dauphine Alps, untroubled by the doubts as to the ident.i.ty of peaks, which had perplexed Mr. Macdonald and myself in 1861; and, enlightened by it, he was able to point out (which he did in the fairest manner) that we had confounded the Ecrins with another mountain-the Pic Sans Nom. We made this blunder through imperfect knowledge of the district and inaccurate reports of the natives;-but it was not an extraordinary one (the two mountains are not unlike each other), considering the difficulty that there is in obtaining from any except the very highest summits a complete view of this intricate group.

The situations of the princ.i.p.al summits can be perceived at a glance on the accompanying map, which is a reproduction of a portion of sheet 189.

The main ridge of the chain runs, at this part, nearly north and south.

Roche Faurio, at the northern extreme, is 3716 metres, or 12,192 feet, above the level of the sea. The lowest point between that mountain and the Ecrins (the Col des Ecrins) is 11,000 feet. The ridge again rises, and pa.s.ses 13,000 feet in the neighbourhood of the Ecrins. The highest summit of that mountain (13,462 feet) is, however, placed a little to the east of and off the main ridge. It then again falls, and in the vicinity of the Col de la Tempe it is, perhaps, below 11,000 feet; but immediately to the south of the summit of that pa.s.s, there is upon the ridge a point which has been determined by the French surveyors to be 12,323 feet. This peak is without a name. The ridge continues to gain height as we come to the south, and culminates in the mountain which the French surveyors have called Sommet de l'Aile Froide. On the spot it is called, very commonly, the Alefroide.

There is some uncertainty respecting the elevation of this mountain. The Frenchmen give 3925 metres (12,878) as its highest point, but Mr. Tuckett, who took a good theodolite to the top of Mont Pelvoux (which he agreed with his predecessors had an elevation of 12,973 feet), found that the summit of the Alefroide was elevated above his station 4'; and as the distance between the two points was 12,467 feet, this would represent a difference in alt.i.tude of 5 metres in favour of the Alefroide. I saw this mountain from the summit of Mont Pelvoux in 1861, and was in doubt as to which of the two was the higher, and in 1864, from the summit of the Pointe des Ecrins (as will presently be related), it looked actually higher than Mont Pelvoux. I have therefore little doubt but that Mr.

Tuckett is right in believing the Alefroide to have an elevation of about 13,000 feet, instead of 12,878, as determined by the French surveyors.

Mont Pelvoux is to the east of the Alefroide and off the main ridge, and the Pic Sans Nom (12,845 feet) is placed between these two mountains. The latter is one of the grandest of the Dauphine peaks, but it is shut in by the other mountains, and is seldom seen except from a distance, and then is usually confounded with the neighbouring summits. Its name has been accidentally omitted on the map, but its situation is represented by the large patch of rocks, nearly surrounded by glaciers, that is seen between the words Ailefroide and Mt. Pelvoux.

The lowest depression on the main ridge to the south of the Alefroide is the Col du Sele, and this, according to Mr. Tuckett, is 10,834 feet. The ridge soon rises again, and, a little farther to the south, joins another ridge running nearly east and west. To a mountain at the junction of these two ridges the Frenchmen have given the singular name Crete des Bufs Rouges! The highest point hereabouts is 11,332 feet; and a little to the west there is another peak (Mont Bans) of 11,979 feet. The main ridge runs from this last-named point, in a north-westerly direction, to the Cols de Says, both of which exceed 10,000 feet.

It will thus be seen that the general elevation of this main ridge is almost equal to that of the range of Mont Blanc, or of the central Pennine Alps; and if we were to follow it out more completely, or to follow the other ridges surrounding or radiating from it, we should find that there is a remarkable absence, throughout the entire district, of low gaps and depressions, and that there are an extraordinary number of peaks of medium elevation.(107) The difficulty which explorers have experienced in Dauphine in identifying peaks, has very much arisen from the elevation of the ridges generally being more uniform than is commonly found in the Alps, and the consequent facile concealment of one point by another. The difficulty has been enhanced by the narrowness and erratic courses of the valleys.

The possession of the "advanced copy" of sheet 189 of the French map, enabled Mr. Tuckett to grasp most of what I have just said, and much more; and he added, in 1862, three interesting pa.s.ses across this part of the chain to those already known. The first, from Ville Vallouise to La Berarde, _via_ the village of Claux, and the glaciers du Sele and de la Pilatte,-this he called the Col du Sele; the second, between Ville Vallouise and Villar d'Arene (on the Lautaret road) _via_ Claux and the glaciers Blanc and d'Arsine,-the Col du Glacier Blanc; and the third, from Vallouise to La Berarde, _via_ the Glacier Blanc, the Glacier de l'Encula, and the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre, the Col des Ecrins.

This last pa.s.s was discovered accidentally. Mr. Tuckett set out intending to endeavour to ascend the Pointe des Ecrins, but circ.u.mstances were against him, as he relates in the following words:-"Arrived on the plateau" (of the Glacier de l'Encula), "a most striking view of the Ecrins burst upon us, and a hasty inspection encouraged us to hope that its ascent would be practicable. On the sides of La Berarde and the Glacier Noir it presents, as has been already stated, the most precipitous and inaccessible faces that can well be conceived; but in the direction of the Glacier de l'Encula, as the upper plateau of the Glacier Blanc is named on the French map, the slopes are less rapid, and immense ma.s.ses of _neve_ and _seracs_ cover it nearly to the summit."

"The snow was in very bad order, and as we sank at each step above the knee, it soon became evident that our prospects of success were extremely doubtful. A nearer approach, too, disclosed traces of fresh avalanches, and after much deliberation and a careful examination through the telescope, it was decided that the chances in our favour were too small to render it desirable to waste time in the attempt.... I examined the map, from which I perceived that the glacier seen through the gap" (in the ridge running from Roche Faurio to the Ecrins) "to the west, at a great depth below, must be that of La Bonne Pierre; and if a descent to its head was practicable, a pa.s.sage might probably be effected to La Berarde. On suggesting to Croz and Perrn that, though baffled by the state of the snow on the Ecrins, we might still achieve something of interest and importance by discovering a new col, they both heartily a.s.sented, and in a few minutes Perrn was over the edge, and cutting his way down the rather formidable _couloir_," etc. etc.(108)

This was the couloir at the foot of which we found ourselves at daybreak on the 25th of June 1864; but before commencing the relation of our doings upon that eventful day, I must recount the experiences of Messrs. Mathews and Bonney in 1862.

These gentlemen, with the two Croz's, attempted the ascent of the Ecrins a few weeks after Mr. Tuckett had inspected the mountain. On August 26, says Mr. Bonney, "we pushed on, and our hopes each moment rose higher and higher; even the cautious Michel committed himself so far as to cry, 'Ah, malheureux Ecrins, vous serez bientot morts,' as we addressed ourselves to the last slope leading up to the foot of the final cone. The old proverb about 'many a slip' was, however, to prove true on this occasion. Arrived at the top of this slope, we found that we were cut off from the peak by a formidable bergschrund, crossed by the rottenest of snow-bridges. We looked to the right and to the left, to see whether it would be possible to get on either arete at its extremity; but instead of rising directly from the snow as they appeared to do from below, they were terminated by a wall of rock some forty feet high. There was but one place where the bergschrund was narrow enough to admit of crossing, and there a cliff of ice had to be climbed, and then a path to be cut up a steep slope of snow, before the arete could be reached. At last, after searching in vain for some time, Michel bade us wait a little, and started off to explore the gap separating the highest peak from the snow-dome on the right, and see if it were possible to ascend the rocky wall. Presently he appeared, evidently climbing with difficulty, and at last stood on the arete itself.

Again we thought the victory was won, and started off to follow him.

Suddenly he called to us to halt, and turned to descend. In a few minutes he stopped. After a long pause he shouted to his brother, saying that he was not able to return by the way he had ascended. Jean was evidently uneasy about him, and for some time we watched him with much anxiety. At length he began to hew out steps in the snow along the face of the peak towards us. Jean now left us, and, making for the ice-cliff mentioned above, chopped away until, after about a quarter of an hour's labour, he contrived, somehow or other, to worm himself up it, and began to cut steps to meet his brother. Almost every step appeared to be cut right through the snowy crust into the hard ice below, and an incipient stream of snow came hissing down the sides of the peak as they dug it away with their axes. Michel could not have been much more than 100 yards from us, and yet it was full three quarters of an hour before the brothers met. This done, they descended carefully, burying their axe-heads deep in the snow at every step.

"Michel's account was that he had reached the arete with great difficulty, and saw that it was practicable for some distance, in fact, as far as he could see; but that the snow was in a most dangerous condition, being very incoherent and resting on hard ice; that when he began to descend in order to tell us this, he found the rocks so smooth and slippery that return was impossible; and that for some little time he feared that he should not be able to extricate himself, and was in considerable danger. Of course the arete could have been reached by the way our guides had descended, but it was so evident that their judgment was against proceeding, that we did not feel justified in urging them on. We had seen so much of them that we felt sure they would never hang back unless there was real danger, and so we gave the word for retreating."(109)

On both of these expeditions there was fine weather and plenty of time. On each occasion the parties slept out at, and started from, a considerable elevation, and arrived at the base of the final peak of the Ecrins early in the day, and with plenty of superfluous energy. Guides and travellers alike, on each occasion, were exceptional men, experienced mountaineers, who had proved their skill and courage on numerous antecedent occasions, and who were not accustomed to turn away from a thing merely because it was difficult. On each occasion the attempts were abandoned because the state of the snow on and below the final peak was such that avalanches were antic.i.p.ated; and, according to the judgment of those who were concerned, there was such an amount of positive danger from this condition of things, that it was unjustifiable to persevere.

We learnt privately, from Messrs. Mathews, Bonney, and Tuckett, that unless the snow was in a good state upon the final peak (that is to say, coherent and stable), we should probably be of the same opinion as themselves; and that, although the face of the mountain fronting the Glacier de l'Encula was much less steep than its other faces, and was apparently the _only_ side upon which an attempt was at all likely to be successful, it was, nevertheless, so steep, that for several days, at least, after a fall of snow upon it, the chances in favour of avalanches would be considerable.

The reader need scarcely be told, after all that has been said about the variableness of weather in the High Alps, the chance was small indeed that we should find upon the 25th of June, or any other set day, the precise condition of affairs that was deemed indispensable for success. We had such confidence in the judgment of our friends, that it was understood amongst us the ascent should be abandoned, unless the conditions were manifestly favourable.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Pointe des Ecrins from the Col du Galibier]

By five minutes to six we were at the top of the gully (a first-rate couloir, about 1000 feet high), and within sight of our work. Hard, thin, and wedge-like as the Ecrins had looked from afar, it had never looked so hard and so thin as it did when we emerged from the top of the couloir through the gap in the ridge. No tender shadows spoke of broad and rounded ridges, but sharp and shadowless its serrated edges stood out against the clear sky.(110) It had been said that the route must be taken by one of the ridges of the final peak, but both were alike repellent, hacked and notched in numberless places. They reminded me of my failure on the Dent d'Herens in 1863, and of a place on a similar ridge, from which advance or retreat was alike difficult. But, presuming one or other of these ridges or aretes was practicable, there remained the task of getting to them, for completely round the base of the final peak swept an enormous bergschrund, almost separating it from the slopes which lay beneath. It was evident thus early that the ascent would not be accomplished without exertion, and that it would demand all our faculties and all our time. In more than one respect we were favoured. The mists were gone, the day was bright and perfectly calm; there had been a long stretch of fine weather beforehand, and the snow was in excellent order; and, most important of all, the last new snow which had fallen on the final peak, unable to support itself, had broken away and rolled in a mighty avalanche, over schrund, neve, seracs, over hills and valleys in the glacier (levelling one and filling the other), completely down to the summit of the Col des Ecrins, where it lay in huge jammed ma.s.ses, powerless to harm us; and had made a broad track, almost a road, over which, for part of the way at least, we might advance with rapidity.

We took in all this in a few minutes, and seeing there was no time to be lost, despatched a hasty meal, left knapsacks, provisions, and all inc.u.mbrances by the Col, started again at half-past six, and made direct for the left side of the schrund, for it was there alone that a pa.s.sage was practicable. We crossed it at 8.10. Our route can now be followed upon the annexed outline. The arrow marked *D* points out the direction of the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre. The ridge in front, that extends right across, is the ridge that is partially shown on the top of the map at p. 146, leading from Roche Faurio towards the W.N.W. We arrived upon the plateau of the Glacier de l'Encula, behind this ridge, from the direction of *D*, and then made a nearly straight track to the left hand of the bergschrund at *A*.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Outline to show route up Pointe des Ecrins]

Thus far there was no trouble, but the nature of the work changed immediately. If we regard the upper 700 feet alone of the final peak of the Ecrins, it may be described as a three-sided pyramid. One face is towards the Glacier Noir, and forms one of the sheerest precipices in the Alps. Another is towards the Glacier du Vallon, and is less steep, and less uniform in angle than the first. The third is towards the Glacier de l'Encula, and it was by this one we approached the summit. Imagine a triangular plane, 700 or 800 feet high, set at an angle exceeding 50; let it be smooth, gla.s.sy; let the uppermost edges be cut into spikes and teeth, and let them be bent, some one way, some another. Let the gla.s.sy face be covered with minute fragments of rock, scarcely attached, but varnished with ice; imagine this, and then you will have a very faint idea of the face of the Ecrins on which we stood. It was not possible to avoid detaching stones, which, as they fell, cause words unmentionable to rise.

The greatest friends would have reviled each other in such a situation. We gained the eastern arete, and endeavoured for half-an-hour to work upwards towards the summit; but it was useless (each yard of progress cost an incredible time); and having no desire to form the acquaintance of the Glacier Noir in a precipitate manner, we beat a retreat, and returned to the schrund. We again held a council, and it was unanimously decided that we should be beaten if we could not cut along the upper edge of the schrund, and, when nearly beneath the summit, work up to it. So Croz took off his coat and went to work;-on ice,-not that black ice so often mentioned and so seldom seen, but on ice as hard as ice could be. Weary work for the guides. Croz cut for more than half-an-hour, and we did not seem to have advanced at all. Some one behind, seeing how great the labour was, and how slow the progress, suggested that after all we might do better on the arete. Croz's blood was up, and indignant at this slight on his powers, he ceased working, turned in his steps, and rushed towards me with a haste that made me shudder: "By all means let us go there, the sooner the better." No slight was intended, and he resumed his work, after a time being relieved by Almer. Half-past ten came; an hour had pa.s.sed; they were still cutting. Dreary work for us, for no capering about could be done here; hand as well as foot holes were necessary; the fingers and toes got very cold; the ice, as it boomed in bounding down the bergschrund, was very suggestive; conversation was very restricted, separated as we were by our tether of 20 feet apiece. Another hour pa.s.sed.

We were now almost immediately below the summit, and we stopped to look up. We were nearly as far off it (vertically) as we had been more than three hours before. The day seemed going against us. The only rocks near at hand were scattered; no bigger than tea-cups, and most of these, we found afterwards, were glazed with ice. Time forbade cutting right up to the summit, even had it been possible, which it was not. We decided to go up to the ridge again by means of the rocks; but had we not had a certain confidence in each other, it unquestionably would not have been done; for this, it must be understood, was a situation where not only _might_ a slip have been fatal to every one, but it would have been so beyond doubt: nothing, moreover, was easier than to make one. It was a place where all had to work in unison, where there must be no slackening of the rope, and no unnecessary tension. For another hour we were in this trying situation, and at 12.30 we gained the arete again at a much higher point (*B*), close to the summit. Our men were, I am afraid, well-nigh worn out. Cutting up a couloir 1000 feet high was not the right sort of preparation for work of this kind. Be it so or not, we were all glad to rest for a short time, for we had not sat down a minute since leaving the col six hours before.

Almer, however, was restless, knowing that midday was past, and that much remained to be accomplished, and untied himself, and commenced working towards the summit. Connecting the teeth of rock were beds of snow, and Almer, only a few feet from me, was crossing the top of one of these, when suddenly, without a moment's warning, it broke away under him, and plunged down on to the glacier. As he staggered for a second, one foot in the act of stepping, and the other on the falling ma.s.s, I thought him lost; but he happily fell on to the right side and stopped himself. Had he taken the step with his right instead of the left foot, he would, in all probability, have fallen several hundred feet without touching anything, and would not have been arrested before reaching the glacier, a vertical distance of at least 3000 feet.

Small, ridiculously small, as the distance was to the summit, we were occupied nearly another hour before it was gained. Almer was a few feet in front, and he, with characteristic modesty, hesitated to step on the highest point, and drew back to allow us to pa.s.s. A cry was raised for Croz, who had done the chief part of the work, but he declined the honour, and we marched on to the top simultaneously; that is to say, cl.u.s.tered round it, a yard or two below, for it was much too small to get upon.

According to my custom, I bagged a piece from off the highest rock (chlorite slate), and I found afterwards that it had a striking similarity to the final peak of the Ecrins. I have noticed the same thing on other occasions,(111) and it is worthy of remark that not only do fragments of such rock as limestone often present the characteristic forms of the cliffs from which they have been broken, but that morsels of mica slate will represent, in a wonderful manner, the identical shape of the peaks of which they have formed part. Why should it not be so if the mountain's ma.s.s is more or less h.o.m.ogeneous? The same causes which produce the small forms fas.h.i.+on the large ones; the same influences are at work; the same frost and rain give shape to the ma.s.s as well as to its parts.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FRAGMENT FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE POINTE DES ECRINS.]

Did s.p.a.ce permit me, I could give a very poor idea of the view, but it will be readily imagined that a panorama extending over as much ground as the whole of England is one worth taking some trouble to see, and one which is not often to be seen even in the Alps. No clouds obscured it, and a list of the summits that we saw would include nearly all the highest peaks of the chain. I saw the Pelvoux now-as I had seen the Ecrins from it three years before-across the basin of the Glacier Noir. It is a splendid mountain, although in height it is equalled, if not surpa.s.sed, by its neighbour the Alefroide.

We could stay on the summit only a short time, and at a quarter to two prepared for the descent. Now, as we looked down, and thought of what we had pa.s.sed over in coming up, we one and all hesitated about returning the same way. Moore said, no. Walker said the same, and I too; the guides were both of the same mind: this, be it remarked, although we had considered that there was no chance whatever of getting up any other way. But those "last rocks" were not to be forgotten. Had they only protruded to a moderate extent, or had they been merely glazed, we should doubtless still have tried: but they were not reasonable rocks,-they would neither allow us to hold, nor would do it themselves. So we turned to the western arete, trusting to luck that we should find a way down to the schrund, and some means of getting over it afterwards. Our faces were a tolerable index to our thoughts, and apparently the thoughts of the party were not happy ones. Had any one then said to me, "You are a great fool for coming here,"