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.
A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier.
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.