It seemed to me that the conditions at Roth show that the ice is formed by the cold of winter alone: the cave is well below the entrance; it is the lowest point of the surrounding cauldron of rocks and all the cold air naturally gravitates to it; it is sheltered by rocks and trees from wind or exposure to the rays of the sun; the tunnel faces nearly due north; and the water necessary to supply the ice, easily soaks between the lava blocks.
THE FRAUENMAUERHÖHLE.
Eisenerz, in Eastern Tyrol, is a picturesquely situated little town. It is at the bottom of a great valley, with mountains all around it. Two of these are bare, gaunt limestone peaks, which are decidedly dolomitic in form and color. The sharpest of these is to the north. It is called the Pfaffenstein and is the beginning of the range culminating in the Frauenmauer. On a mountain to the east of the town, one sees the iron mines and works, whence the town takes its name “Ironore,” and whence quantities of iron are taken out every year. The mines are said to have been in operation for over a thousand years, since about A. D. 800. After the ore is taken from the mine and roughly prepared, it is run down in small cars through a covered way to the railroad station to be shipped; and at certain times there is a seemingly endless procession of these cars, each bearing, besides its load of ore, a miner, with clothes and person entirely begrimed to the yellow-brown color of the iron.
As I walked out of the Eisenerz railroad station, an old man in Tyrolese costume asked me if I wanted a träger and a guide, so, while he was carrying my valise to the hotel, we came to terms. He was one of the patented guides of the district and wore the large badge of the Austrian guides. If the size of the badge made the guide, one should be safe with Tyrolese, but for difficult excursions, it will not do to trust to a guide simply because he happens to be “patented”; that is, not if one values the safety of one’s neck. Next morning, July the 9th, 1896, the old guide arrived betimes at the hotel and roused me by tapping on the wall below my window with his stick. We left at half past five o’clock. My companion, who should have known better, had not breakfasted, so by the time we reached the Gsoll Alp at a quarter-past seven, he was almost tired out. He wore the regulation black chamois knee breeches and a gamsbart in his hat. He picked many flowers en route, ostensibly because they were pretty; but in reality, I think, because it gave him the opportunity to recover his wind. He told me he was sixty-three years old, and he certainly went up hill with some difficulty, and for the first time in my life, I fairly succeeded in showing a clean pair of heels to a patentirter führer on a mountain side. At one place he found a large snail in the road. This he wrapped up in leaves and placed on a rock, and on our return he picked the leaves and snail up, and rammed the whole bundle into his pocket, informing me that it was excellent Arznei, although he did not mention for what complaint.
THE FRAUENMAUER AND THE GSOLL ALP.
The road led up a wooded valley, in a sort of series of steps, bits of even ground interspersed by steeper ones, with the Pfaffenstein-Frauenmauer limestone peaks poking up their jagged summits on the left. The sky was clear at starting, except in the west, where clouds were forming, and these gradually overspread the whole sky, and finally turned to rain. Just before we reached the Gsoll Alp, we went by a huge snow avalanche, which had fallen in February and torn a lane clear through the pines, bringing down numbers of them with it. The remains of the avalanche were banked up on the side of the road, which was cut out, and many of the pines were still piled on and in the snow. Stopping ten minutes at the alp to allow my guide to recuperate on some bread and milk, we then crossed the pastures and pushed up a rather steep slope by a small path, at one place crossing the remains of another avalanche. We also came near having the attentions of a little bull which was screaming viciously. My guide said it was an extremely disagreeable beast, but he did not think it would attack him, as he always made a point of giving it bread when at the châlet. We reached the entrance of the cave at a quarter-past eight.
A man and a boy from Eisenerz, who had heard I was going to the cavern and who wished to profit by my guide, caught up with us here. They were much disappointed when I told them I should visit only the Eiskammer. They went into the cave at the same time that we did, and eventually we left them pushing up one of the side chambers, with only one torch in their possession. My guide said he thought they were risking their lives, as there were many holes they might fall into, besides the probability of their finding themselves in total darkness. He told me that once, while in the cavern, he heard distant yells, and, going up the gallery whence they proceeded, found a man half dead, who said he had tried to come through the mountain by himself, had broken his lantern and had remained in the darkness an indefinite number of hours; a situation, the horror of which could not be realized by anyone who has not been underground without a light and felt the absolute blackness of a cavern.