We had no such excitement as this in 1863, and crossed this easy pass to the châlets of Prerayen in a very leisurely fashion. From the summit to Prerayen let us descend in one step. The way has been described before, and those who wish for information about it should consult the description of Mr. Jacomb, the discoverer of the pass. Nor need we stop at Prerayen, except to remark that the owner of the châlets (who is usually taken for a common herdsman) must not be judged by appearances. He is a man of substance, he has many flocks and herds; and although, when approached politely, he is courteous, he can (and probably will) act as the master of Prerayen if his position is not recognized, and with all the importance of a man who pays taxes to the extent of five hundred francs per annum to his government.
The hill tops were clouded when we rose from our hay on the 5th of August. We decided not to continue the tour of our mountain immediately, and returned over our track of the preceding day to the highest châlet on the left bank of the valley, with the intention of attacking the Dent d’Erin on the next morning. We were interested in this summit, more on account of the excellent view which it commanded of the southwest ridge and the terminal peak of the Matterhorn than from any other reason.
The Dent d’Erin had not been ascended at this time, and we had diverged from our route on the 4th, and had scrambled some distance up the base of Mont Brulé, to see how far its southwestern slopes were assailable. We were divided in opinion as to the best way of approaching the peak. Carrel, true to his habit of sticking to rocks in preference to ice, counseled ascending by the long buttress of the Tête de Bella Cia (which descends toward the west, and forms the southern boundary of the last glacier that falls into the Glacier de Zardesan), and thence traversing the heads of all the tributaries of the Zardesan to the western and rocky ridge of the Dent. I, on the other hand, propose to follow the Glacier de Zardesan itself throughout its entire length, and from the plateau at its head (where my proposed route would cross Carrel’s), make directly toward the summit up the snow-covered glacier slope, instead of by the western ridge. The hunchback, who was accompanying us on these excursions, declared in favor of Carrel’s route, and it was accordingly adopted.
The first part of the programme was successfully executed; and at half-past ten A.M. on the 6th of August we were sitting astride the western ridge, at a height of about twelve thousand five hundred feet, looking down upon the Tiefenmatten glacier. To all appearance, another hour would place us on the summit, but in another hour we found that we were not destined to succeed. The ridge (like all of the principal rocky ridges of the great peaks upon which I have stood) had been completely shattered by frost, and was nothing more than a heap of piled-up fragments. It was always narrow, and where it was narrowest it was also the most unstable and the most difficult. On neither side could we ascend it by keeping a little below its crest—on the side of the Tiefenmatten because it was too steep, and on both sides because the dislodgment of a single block would have disturbed the equilibrium of those which were above. Forced, therefore, to keep to the very crest of the ridge, and unable to deviate a single step either to the right or to the left, we were compelled to trust ourselves upon unsteady masses, which trembled under our tread, which sometimes settled down, grating in a hollow and ominous manner, and which seemed as if a very little shake would send the whole roaring down in one awful avalanche.
I followed my leader, who said not a word, and did not rebel until we came to a place where a block had to be surmounted which lay poised across the ridge. Carrel could not climb it without assistance, or advance beyond it until I joined him above; and as he stepped off my back on to it I felt it quiver and bear down upon me. 1 doubted the possibility of another man standing upon it without bringing it down. Then I rebelled. There was no honor to be gained by persevering, or dishonor in turning from a place which was dangerous on account of its excessive difficulty. So we returned to Prerayen, for there was too little time to allow us to reascend by the other route, which was subsequently shown to be the right way up the mountain.
Four days afterward a party of Englishmen (including my friends W. E. Hall, Crauford Grove and Reginald Macdonald) arrived in the Valpelline, and (unaware of our attempt) on the 12th, under the skillful guidance of Melchior Anderegg, made the first ascent of the Dent d’Erin by the route which I had proposed. This is the only mountain which I have essayed to ascend that has not, sooner or later, fallen to me. Our failure was mortifying, but I am satisfied that we did wisely in returning, and that if we had persevered by Carrel’s route, another Alpine accident would have been recorded. I have not heard that another ascent has been made of the Dent d’Erin.
On the 7th of August we crossed the Va Cornère pass, and had a good look at the mountain named the Grand Tournalin as we descended the Val de Chignana. This mountain was seen from so many points, and was so much higher than any peak in its immediate neighborhood, that it was bound to give a very fine view; and (as the weather continued unfavorable for the Matterhorn) I arranged with Carrel to ascend it the next day, and despatched him direct to the village of Val Tournanche to make the necessary preparations, whilst I, with Meynet, made a short cut to Breuil, at the back of Mont Panquero, by a little pass locally known as the Col de Fenêtre. I rejoined Carrel the same evening at Val Tournanche, and we started from that place at a little before five A.M.on the 8th to attack the Tournalin.
Meynet was left behind for that day, and most unwillingly did the hunchback part from us, and begged hard to be allowed to come. “Pay me nothing, only let me go with you. I shall want but a little bread and cheese, and of that I won’t eat much. I would much rather go with you than carry things down the valley.” Such were his arguments, and I was really sorry that the rapidity of our movements obliged us to desert the good little man.
Carrel led over the meadows on the south and east of the bluff upon which the village of Val Tournanche is built, and then by a zigzag path through a long and steep forest, making many short cuts, which showed he had a thorough knowledge of the ground. After we came again into daylight our route took us up one of those little, concealed lateral valleys which are so numerous on the slopes bounding the Val Tournanche.
This valley, the Combe de Ceneil, has a general easterly trend, and contains but one small cluster of houses (Ceneil). The Tournalin is situated at the head of the combe, and nearly due east of the village of Val Tournanche, but from that place no part of the mountain is visible. After Ceneil is passed it conies into view, rising above a cirque of cliffs (streaked by several fine waterfalls), at the end of the combe. To avoid these cliffs the path bends somewhat to the south, keeping throughout to the left bank of the valley; and at about thirty-five hundred feet above Val Tournanche, and fifteen hundred feet above Ceneil, and a mile or so to its east, arrives at the base of some moraines, which are remarkably large, considering the dimensions of the glaciers which formed them. The ranges upon the western side of the Val Tournanche are seen to great advantage from this spot, but here the path ends and the way steepens.