All of the excursions that were set down in my programme had been carried out, with the exception of the ascent of the Matterhorn, and we now turned our faces in its direction, but instead of returning viâ the Val Tournanche, we took a route across country, and bagged upon our way the summit of the Ruinette.
We passed the night of July 4, at Aosta, under the roof of the genial Tairraz, and on the 5th went by the Val d’Ollomont and the Col de la Fenêtre (9140) to Chermontane. We slept that night at the chalets of Chanrion (a foul spot, which should be avoided), left them at 3.50 the next morning, and after a short scramble over the slope above, and a half-mile tramp on the glacier de Breney, we crossed directly to the Ruinette, and went almost straight up it. There is not, I suppose, another mountain in the Alps of the same height that can be ascended so easily. You have only to go ahead: upon its southern side one can walk about almost anywhere.
Though I speak thus slightingly of a very respectable peak, I will not do anything of the kind in regard to the view which it gives. It is happily placed in respect to the rest of the Pennine Alps, and as a stand-point it has not many superiors. You see mountains, and nothing but mountains. It is a solemn—some would say a dreary—view, but it is very grand. The great Combin (14,164), with its noble background of the whole range of Mont [pg 260]Blanc, never looks so big as it does from here. In the contrary direction, the Matterhorn overpowers all besides. The Dent d’Hérens, although closer, looks a mere outlier of its great neighbour, and the snows of Monte Rosa, behind, seem intended for no other purpose than to give relief to the crags in front. To the south there is an endless array of Bec’s and Becca’s, backed by the great Italian peaks, whilst to the north Mont Pleureur (12,159) holds it own against the more distant Wildstrubel.
We gained the summit at 9.15,[203] and stayed there an hour and a half. My faithful guides then admonished me that Prerayen, whither we were bound, was still far away, and that we had yet to cross two lofty ridges. So we resumed our harness and departed; not, however, before a huge cairn had been built out of the blocks of gneiss with which the summit is bestrewn. Then we trotted down the slopes of the Ruinette, over the glacier de Breney, and across a pass which (if it deserves a name) may be called the Col des Portons, after the neighbouring peaks. Thence we proceeded across the great Otemma glacier towards the Col d’Olen.
The part of the glacier that we traversed was overspread with snow which completely concealed its numerous pitfalls. We marched across it in single file, and, of course, roped together. All at once Almer dropped into a crevasse up to his shoulders. I pulled in the rope immediately, but the snow gave way as it was being done, and I had to spread out my arms to stop my descent. Biener held fast, and said afterwards, that his feet went through as well; so, for a moment, all three were in the jaws of the crevasse. We now altered our course, so as to take the fissures transversely, and changed it again after the centre of the glacier was passed, and made directly for the summit of the Col d’Olen.
It is scarcely necessary to observe, after what I have said [pg 261]before, that it is my invariable practice to employ a rope when traversing a snow-covered glacier. Many guides, even the best ones, object to be roped, more especially early in the morning, when the snow is hard. They object sometimes, because they think it is unnecessary. Crevasses that are bridged by snow are almost always more or less perceptible by undulations on the surface; the snow droops down, and hollows mark the courses of the chasms beneath. An experienced guide usually notices these almost imperceptible wrinkles, steps one side or the other, as the case may require, and rarely breaks through unawares. Guides think there is no occasion to employ a rope because they think that they will not be taken by surprise. Michel Croz used to be of this opinion. He used to say that only imbeciles and children required to be tied up in the morning. I told him that in this particular matter I was a child to him. “You see these things, my good Croz, and avoid them. I do not, except you point them out to me, and so that which is not a danger to you, is a danger to me.” The sharper one’s eyes get by use, the less is a rope required as a protective against these hidden pitfalls; but, according to my experience, the sight never becomes so keen that they can be avoided with unvarying certainty, and I mentioned what occurred upon the Otemma glacier to show that this is so.
I well remember my first passage of the Col Théodule—the easiest of the higher Alpine glacier passes. We had a rope, but my guide said it was not necessary, he knew all the crevasses. However, we did not go a quarter of a mile before he dropped through the snow into a crevasse up to his neck. He was a heavy man, and would scarcely have extricated himself alone; anyhow, he was very glad of my assistance. When he got on to his legs again, he said, “Well, I had no idea that there was a crevasse there!” He no longer objected to use the rope, and we proceeded; upon my part, with greater peace of mind than before. I have crossed the pass fourteen times since then, and have invariably insisted upon being tied together.
Guides object to the use of the rope upon snow-covered glacier, because they are afraid of being laughed at by their comrades; and this, perhaps, is the more common reason. To illustrate this, here is another Théodule experience. We arrived at the edge of the ice, and I required to be tied. My guide (a Zermatt man of repute) said that no one used a rope going across that pass. I declined to argue the matter, and we put on the rope; though very much against the wish of my man, who protested that he should have to submit to perpetual ridicule if we met any of his acquaintances. We had not gone very far before we saw a train coming in the contrary direction. “Ah!” cried my man, “there is R—— (mentioning a guide who used to be kept at the Riffel Hotel for the ascent of Monte Rosa); it will be as I said, I shall never hear the end of this.” The guide we met was followed by a string of tom-fools, none of whom were tied together, and had his face covered by a mask to prevent it becoming blistered. After we had passed, I said, “Now, should R—— make any observations to you, ask him why he takes such extraordinary care to preserve the skin of his face, which will grow again in a week, when he neglects such an obvious precaution in regard to his life, which he can only lose once.” This was quite a new idea to my guide, and he said nothing more against the use of the rope so long as we were together.
I believe that the unwillingness to use a rope upon snow-covered glacier which born mountaineers not unfrequently exhibit, arises—First, on the part of expert men, from the consciousness that they themselves incur little risk; secondly, on the part of inferior men, from fear of ridicule, and from aping the ways of their superiors; and, thirdly, from pure ignorance or laziness. Whatever may be the reason, I raise up my voice against the neglect of a precaution so simple and so effectual. In my opinion, the very first thing a glacier traveller requires is plenty of good rope.
A committee of the English Alpine Club was appointed in 1864 to test, and to report upon, the most suitable ropes for [pg 263]mountaineering purposes, and those which were approved are probably as good as can be found. One is made of Manilla and another of Italian hemp. The former is the heavier, and weighs a little more than an ounce per foot (103 ozs. to 100 feet). The latter weighs 79 ozs. per 100 feet; but I prefer the Manilla rope, because it is more handy to handle. Both of these ropes will sustain 168 lbs. falling 10 feet, or 196 lbs. falling 8 feet, and they break with a dead weight of two tons.[204] In 1865 we carried two 100 feet lengths of the Manilla rope, and the inconvenience arising from its weight was more than made up for by the security which it afforded. Upon several occasions it was worth more than an extra guide.