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.
Chamonix Aiguilles and Mont Blanc.
Descending the Grépon.
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.