TOP OF ICE SLOPE, KOLOWRATSHÖHLE.
THE SCHAFLOCH.
The Schafloch, on the Rothhorn, near the Lake of Thoune, is one of the biggest glacières in the Alps. On the 15th of August, 1895, after early coffee, made by the portier of the Hotel Belvedère at Interlaken, I drove to Merligen, on the north shore of the lake, with Emil Von Allmen, an excellent guide. We left Merligen on foot at a quarter before seven, and, making no stops on the way, reached the Schafloch at ten minutes past ten. The path mounts gently up the Wüste Thal, which higher up is called the Justiz Thal. The track through the latter is almost on a level, over grassy alps. On the right hand rise the steep, almost dolomitic, limestone cliffs of the Beatenberg. On the left is the range of the Rothhorn, with steep grass and forest slopes below, and limestone cliffs above. The last hour of the walk was up these slopes, by what Baedeker calls a “giddy path.” By leaving the word “giddy” out, his description is accurate. The cavern is at the base of the limestone cliff, and the grass slope extends up to it.
The entrance to the Schafloch is at an altitude of 1752 meters: it is a fine archway, and a low wall is built partly across it. In front of this, we sat down and consumed our chicken and cheese, and that best of a traveller’s drinks, cold tea. The day was windless, and when I lighted a cigar, to see whether there was any draught at the entrance, the smoke rose straight up, showing that the air was perfectly still. When we were sufficiently cooled off, we entered the cave. The entrance faces east-south-east, but after about ten meters the cavern takes a sharp turn to the left, forming a sort of elbow, and runs about due south, constantly descending in an almost straight line. For the first eighty meters or so, the floor was covered with blocks of fallen limestone, among which we had to carefully pick our way. Then we began to find ice, which, a few meters further on, spread out across the entire width of the cave, with a gentle slope towards the left. The surface of the ice was rather soft, and the whole cave was evidently in a state of thaw. A few scratches with the axe—the most invaluable friend in an ice cave—were necessary at one place to improve our footing. It would have been impossible to move here without a light, and I carried our torch, made of rope dipped in pitch, which occasionally dropped black reminders on my clothes. We were in the middle of a great ice sheet to which several fissure columns streamed. On the right hand a beautiful ice stalactite flowed from the roof to the floor; it was some five meters high, and perhaps seventy-five centimeters in diameter, and swelled out slightly at the base. On the left hand were three or four ice stalagmites, shaped like pyramids or cones.
AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE SCHAFLOCH.