Provided that the temperature was uniform, or nearly so, on all sides of the Matterhorn, and to a considerable distance above its summit, no clouds would be likely to form upon it. But if the atmosphere immediately surrounding it is warmer than the contiguous strata, a local “courant ascendant” must necessarily be generated; and portions of the cooler superincumbent (or circumjacent) air will naturally be attracted toward the mountain, where they will speedily condense the moisture of the warm air in contact with it. I cannot explain the down-rushes of cold air which occur on it when all the rest of the neighborhood appears to be tranquil, in any other way. The clouds are produced by the contact of two strata of air (of widely different temperatures) charged with invisible moisture, as surely as certain colorless fluids produce a white, turbid liquid when mixed together. The order has been, wind of a low temperature, mist, rain, snow or hail.
This opinion is borne out to some extent by the behavior of the neighboring mountains. The Dom (14,935 feet) and the Dent Blanche (14,318) have both of them large cliffs of bare rock upon their southern sides, and against those cliffs clouds commonly form (during fine, still weather) at the same time as the cloud on the Matterhorn; whilst the Weisshorn (14,804) and the Lyskamm (14,889)--mountains of about the same altitude, and which are in corresponding situations to the former pair--usually remain perfectly clear.
I arrived at Chatillon at midnight on the 11th, defeated and disconsolate, but, like a gambler who loses each throw, only the more eager to have another try, to see if the luck would change; and returned to London ready to devise fresh combinations and to form new plans.
CROSSING THE CHANNEL
CHAPTER VIII.
FROM ST. MICHEL TO LA BÉRARDE ON THE MONT CENIS ROAD, BY THE COL DES AIGUILLES, D’ARVE, COL DE MARTIGNARE AND THE BRÈCHE DE LA MEIJE.
When we arrived upon the highest summit of Mont Pelvoux, in Dauphine, in 1861, we saw, to our surprise and disappointment, that it was not the culminating point of the district, and that another mountain, distant about a couple of miles, and separated from us by an impassable gulf, claimed that distinction. I was troubled in spirit about this mountain, and my thoughts often reverted to the great wall-sided peak, second in apparent inaccessibility only to the Matterhorn. It had, moreover, another claim to attention—it was the highest mountain in France.
The year 1862 passed away without a chance of getting to it, and my holiday was too brief in 1863 even to think about it; but in the following year it was possible, and I resolved to set my mind at rest by completing the task which had been left unfinished in 1861.
In the mean time, others had turned their attention to Dauphine. First of all (in 1862) came Mr. F. Tuckett—that mighty mountaineer, whose name is known throughout the length and breadth of the Alps—with the guides Michel Croz, Peter Perm and Bartolommeo Peyrotte, and great success attended his arms. But Mr. Tuckett halted before the Pointe des Écrins, and, dismayed by its appearance, withdrew his forces to gather less dangerous laurels elsewhere. His expedition, however, threw some light upon the Écrins. He pointed out the direction from which an attack was most likely to be successful, and Mr. William Mathews and the Rev. T. G. Bonney (to whom he communicated the result of his labors) attempted to execute the ascent, with the brothers Michel and J. B. Croz, by following his indications, but they too were defeated.