The ranges between the Bernina and Buffalora roads on the east and west, the Engadine and Val Tellina on the north and south, are, roughly speaking, disposed in three parallel chains, separated by the troughs of Val Viola and Val Livigno. The northernmost of the three ridges is steep-sided and rugged, and the gorge broken through it by the Spöl inaccessible except by circuitous and uneven paths, which render it equal in length and fatigue to the neighbouring passes. The central chain, although the Alpine watershed, sending down on one side waters which ultimately join those of Elbruz in the Black Sea, on the other streams which feed the Adda and the Adriatic, is easy of passage. Hence Livigno has from early times been united to Bormio instead of to the Engadine, and since the surrender of Savoy to France remains the only piece of ground north of the Alps owned by Italy, with one insignificant though interesting exception.[25] The southernmost of the three ridges, that which divides Val Viola from the lower lateral valleys of the Val Tellina, is the loftiest.
It bears on its northern slopes a considerable quantity of snow and ice, and in the Cima di Piazza (11,713 feet) rises into a snow-dome, which but for the immediate neighbourhood of the Orteler group would have before this attracted the attention of English climbers.
Such local traffic as there is through this secluded region follows well-marked lines. It passes along the Livigno valley and over the easy gaps at its head to the Bernina Haüser, or La Rosa; by the trench of the two Val Violas from La Rosa to Bormio; or from Zutz to Bormio, crossing the northern and central ridges by the Casana and the Passo di Foscagno. Those routes have been described in guide-books or by earlier writers.[26] But, as is often the case amongst second-rate peaks and in districts where the main valleys are more or less commonplace, the byways open to a climber are far more interesting than the ordinary traveller is led to expect.
In 1866 I struck out a new way from Zernetz to the Val Tellina, which in three days' very easy walking showed us a great variety of scenery. In the absence outside the Swiss frontier of any trustworthy map, we were very much in the dark as to the best course. Our route therefore is capable of improvement, and I do not fear that anyone in want of a day or two's training will complain of having been persuaded to take this country on his way to the Lombard Alps.
A considerable mass of dolomite crops out in the range which separates the parallel troughs of the Upper Engadine and Val Livigno. The head of Val Cluoza, which opens close to Zernetz, is entirely surrounded by dolomite ridges. This valley, besides being recommended in German guide-books to 'passionate mountain-tourists and friends of characteristically wild Alp scenery,' has the attraction of being one of the few recesses of the Alps where bears are 'at home,' even if they will not always show themselves to visitors, and where chamois can still be seen in herds. When therefore in the summer of 1866 I carried out, in company with my friend Mr. Douglas Walker, an old plan of striking straight across the Livigno district, we naturally decided to pass through Val Cluoza, and make a way across the mountains at its head in the course of our first day's march. At Zernetz we put up, by Jenni's advice, at an inn kept by a certain Filli, well known in the Lower Engadine as a great bear-hunter. The rooms were decorated with highly-coloured sporting pictures, presented to our host by various German and Austrian archdukes whom he had initiated into the mystery of his craft. But the most striking ornament of the house was a specimen of the natives of the wild country we were bent on exploring, in the shape of a huge stuffed bear, six feet high, who, standing up on his hind legs in one corner of the salle-à-manger, threatened us with an hitherto undreamt-of Alpine danger on the morrow.
Our host the bear-slayer was of course consulted on our plans, into which he entered warmly, entertaining no doubt of their being practicable, although he assured us that no Zernetz hunter had ever taken the route we had planned. Being himself unwell, he procured us a strong youth, who knew the footpath up the lower part of Val Cluoza, to act as porter.
The next morning broke grey and showery, and we delayed our start until nearly 7 A.M., when we filed off across the meadows behind the village. The Ofen road is left, and the Spöl crossed by a covered bridge, about half a mile from Zernetz. From this point a cart-track leads up, first amongst underwood, then through a pine-forest, to a brow overlooking the narrow wooded gorge by which the stream of Val Cluoza finds a way into the Spöl. The path through this ravine is a mere hunter's track, overgrown by creeping pines, and almost destroyed in places by torrents and earthslips. As it winds round the frequent gullies, at a great height above the foaming torrent, the views are very striking, whether the eye dips down into the ravine or rests on the opposite mountain side—a mass of broken crag and wood. Close to the stump of an old fir-tree, scored with numerous initials and dates, carved by the hunters of the neighbourhood, the first view of the inner valley is obtained. We saw before us a green glen covered by primeval forests, and destitute of any signs of human habitation. The rugged crags and scanty glacier of Piz Quatervals, the highest crest of this range, rose at its head.
A screen of fir-logs was here raised across the track; this, we were informed by our porter, was a hunter's lair, the situation of which was determined by some herb, esteemed a special delicacy by Bruin, growing close by, and often attracting him to the neighbourhood. About two hours' walking from Zernetz, the path returns to the level of the torrent, and recrosses to its left bank. After roaming on for half an hour through fir-woods, where the trees seemed to decay and fall unheeded, and the moss and lichens hung in long streamers from the boughs, we crossed a small stream flowing from the glacier of Piz Quatervals. Just beyond it we found a hunter's hut, a snug little den built of pine-logs, with the interstices stuffed with moss, and fitted inside with shelves and a bed. The clean solitary cabin, so unlike the usual populous and filthy châlet, the dense pine-woods, the bold bare peaks around, and, above all, the romantic flavour imparted to the whole by the possibility of bears, gave an unusual zest to our midday meal. From this point a mountaineer, not wishing to cross to Livigno, can ascend Piz Quatervals, and descend through Val Trupchum, one of the lateral valleys of the Engadine, to Scanfs or Zutz.[27]
Beyond the hut all definite path ceases. The character of the scenery remains the same as far as the bifurcation, where Val Cluoza splits into two utterly desolate glens, forcibly and appropriately named the Valley of Rocks and the Valley of the Devil. The latter probably offers the shortest way to Livigno; it seems also the wildest and most striking of the two valleys. After the mouth of the Val del Sasso has been passed, the Val del Diavel assumes a savage sublimity in accordance with its name. Huge dolomitic cliffs—not so fantastically broken as this rock often is, but stained with the strangest colours—close in on all sides. In the bottom of the glen vegetation entirely ceases, and the stream itself disappears, buried even in September under the snow avalanches, which, falling in spring from the impending crags, lie unmelted through the summer in these sunless depths. Their hard consolidated surface affords an agreeable path, and enables the explorer to avoid the rough boulders and advance rapidly towards the barrier of mingled rock and snow which closes the view. We had here an encounter with seventeen chamois, who were feeding above us, until, disturbed by our shouts, they scampered off among the wild crags which separated us from Val del Sasso. Only once, in the Graians, had I seen a larger herd; but a meeting with small families of three or four is to the climber a matter of daily occurrence. How far chamois are from being 'nearly extinct,' as newspaper-writers and tourists are apt to believe, may be judged from the following fact. An old man of the name of J. Kung, who died last year at Scanfs, was reported amongst his neighbours to have shot, besides eleven bears and nine great eagles, 1,500 chamois. The larger figure may not be strictly accurate, but its local acceptance bears sufficient witness to the abundance of game which could alone render it credible. The eleven bears I see no reason whatever to doubt. There is no lack of evidence of the presence of these animals, and many stories are current about their depredations. In the year of our visit the following anecdote went the round of the Swiss press:—
A boy living at an alp close to the Passo di Verva came upon a bear in the act of devouring one of his sheep. The young shepherd fell at once upon the animal with his staff, but the bear was quite ready for a round, and our David soon began to get the worst of it. When he ran away the bear came after him. Pressed hard the boy leaped one of the narrow clefts which the streams of this district often burrow through. The pursuer blundered into the chasm and was found dead at the bottom.