To reach the upper pasturages and the hut of Mandron, sometimes very needlessly used as night-quarters by foreign climbers, it is necessary to turn northwards and hit on a rough track which finds a way up the crags near a slender waterfall. A herdsman with a lantern guided us up the steepest part of the ascent, and was then sent back, leaving us and our Swiss guides to find our own way, a task to which we were all pretty well accustomed.
We now turned again sharply southwards, making for the side of the Mandron Glacier. A considerable extent of ground had to be traversed, rough and boulder-strewn, yet bright with flowers. Amongst them was a profusion of 'Edelweiss,' a plant which may doubtless be found in dangerous positions, but is quite as often plucked where cows might crop it. But ground safe for cows is not always safe for amateur botanists in high-heeled and nailless boots.
We climbed steadily the slopes of snow on the (true) left bank of the ice. From the top of the last we looked over a smooth expanse of gloriously bright snow-field, bounded on the west by a range of peaks, and on the east by a long white crest, terminating in the rock peak of La Lobbia, first ascended by Von Sonklar. The Presanella, on this side massive and less graceful than from the north, closed the backward view. The still frost-bound surface was crisp and crackling under our feet, and we made quick progress, passing the gap on our right through which eight years afterwards I crossed into Val d'Avio. A shapely snow-peak at the head of the glacier was at first sight assumed to be our mountain, but a reference to the map saved us from repeating Payer's mistake, and convinced us that this was the Corno Bianco, and that the Adamello must be further round to the right. Accordingly after reaching the slightly higher plain whence the ice falls also into the upper branches of Val Saviore, we rounded the snow-peak, and ascended slopes in its rear which brought us up to the highest reservoir of all, a snow-basin sloping downwards from the foot of a conical peak, a steeper but scarcely loftier Cima di Jazi, the Adamello itself. On gaining the ridge at its eastern base we looked down precipices on to the head of Val d'Avio and its lake. The side of the peak above us was steep, but thanks to some rocks and the splendid condition of the snow it took but twenty minutes to gain the summit, a snow-crest some fifty yards long rising at either extremity, the north-eastern point being the highest.
Presanella
F. F. Tuckett delt.
FROM THE ADAMELLO.
Looking East over the Corno Bianco.
From its position as an outlier of the great chain, we had expected much from the Adamello, and now we were not disappointed. The morning had held good to its promise and brought forth one of those golden midsummer days which, as some think, are best spent on the tops of mountains.
Far away in the east we could trace the line of our wanderings from their very commencement. There were the dolomite peaks of Primiero, a little further the Marmolata, Pelmo, and the pyramidal Antelao; then the eye had only to leap the broad gap of the Pusterthal to run over the Tauern from the Ankogel (above Gastein) to the Brenner. The Glockner was as well defined as from Heiligen Blut, only that its snows were tinted an exquisite rose colour, as if they had made prisoner of a sunset. The Orteler and Bernina, from which we were nearly equidistant, made a fine show of snow and ice; still closer at hand we surveyed the great snow-fields of our own group, overlooked by our two rivals, the Presanella and Carè Alto. To the south lay a labyrinth of granite peaks and ridges, separating the many glens which ran up from Val Camonica. This great valley was visible for miles, and the eye rested with pleasure on its fields of Indian corn and chestnut woods, until led on by the white thread of road to the blue waters of Lago d'Iseo basking amidst bright green hills. When tired of this prospect we could take a bird's-eye view of the Val Tellina, a long deep trench of cultivation, heat, and fertility, closed at its lower end by the mountains round the head of Lago di Como. These were crowned by a coronet of snowy peaks, which, so clear was the air, almost seemed part of them, but were in reality the Pennine giants encircling Zermatt. Most notable of all was the splendid pyramid of the Matterhorn, seen in its sharpest aspect, towering immediately over the Weissthor. In another direction far away across the shoulders of lower hills the wide waters of Lago di Garda glowed like burnished metal beneath the cloudless sunshine, while further still the mounds of Solferino were faintly seen through a haze of heat.