A walk in the Grisons

by F. Barham Zincke

The contour of a mountain results from the nature of the rock of which it is formed. Here it is of talcose slate. This is readily broken up by frost. The consequence is that in the course of ages enough of the mountain has been disintegrated to form an incline from top to bottom, just at the angle at which it is possible for such rubble to rest. Such mountains will, therefore, be without precipices; their pente, however, will be very considerable. It was in the steep rubbly incline of this mountain that the zigzags had to be made. It will be also seen that in such a formation there can be no flat spaces, or protruding rocks. On such a face, therefore, snow will, as a general rule, begin to slide before it has accumulated to any great amount. There being nothing from the first to hold it up, as soon as it begins to gather weight, down it must come. Here therefore the avalanches will be very frequent, but not very serious.

When we were about half way down to Trafoi the snow ceased, as I have so frequently had on this excursion to observe of summer snow, at just about the line where the forest commenced. We were now descending along the north-western roots of the group of the Ortler, of which, and of its glaciers, we had frequent glimpses. As we approached Trafoi, we had a magnificent view down the Trafoier valley, in consequence of a bend in the road having opened the distance to us: a world of far-off summits, some topped with white, were in a moment brought into the field of the eye. One stood pre-eminent above all the rest. I was told that its name was Weisstobel. It was of purest white, in form resembling the black mountain superimposed on a mountain I had noticed at Livigno. It was as symmetrically shaped as if it had been the long, lofty nave of a cathedral, with a slanting roof, but without towers or pinnacles. It must be the king of the mountains of that district.

We reached Trafoi at 10 A.M. An Austrian custom-house officer was standing at the door of the inn. We asked him if it was there that he would inspect the little we had with us. He seemed to take it rather amiss, almost to be disposed to be offended, that we should have imagined him capable of so mean an action, one that might seem to imply some distrust. We found that he was staying at the inn, and was, as might be inferred from his forbearance, a goodnatured, convivial variety of the species.

Again what a contrast! Three hours ago I had been standing on the little rocky eminence above the Pass. Everything was buried deep in snow, and bound hard in frost. In the level rays of the early sun, the hard frozen particles on the surface of the deep snow around us gleamed like so much diamond dust. Around to the distant horizon the landscape was only arctic. Now the climate had been changed as well as the scene, for I was seated on the spacious verandah of the Trafoi inn, with the scattered village, its little church, and garden plots around me, not dazzled, nor scorched, but only so quickened by the flood of light and warmth the sun was pouring down on the spot, as to feel that they were life to myself, as I saw that they were to all organized nature around me.

The view from this verandah is food, and, too, very pleasant food, for the eye. The point of central attraction is the Ortler, with its smooth, massive, dome-shaped cap of snow. It seems quite close to you. To the right of it, standing well to the front of the snow-field, and very near to you, is the mighty black pyramid of the Madatsch. On this day it was profusely reticulated with veins of the new snow that had lodged in its crannies. The Ortler and the back of the Madatsch are, as viewed from this point, apparently joined together, on the furthest horizon, high up against the sky, by a long mountain wall of purest white. Between them, projecting toward you from this distant horizon of the snow wall, is Trafoier Spitze, a ridge of black, or of white, precipices, as each happens to be of naked rock, or to be faced with snow. On each side of this ridge of the Trafoier Spitze is a great glacier, one descending from the Ortler, the other from the Madatsch. The lower part of the Madatsch is cut diagonally by an ascending ridge which is clothed with a thick forest of dark green pine. All this is on your right, as you sit on the verandah with your back to the house, and just at the best distance for taking in all the features of the scene, the dark forest that rises athwart the lower part of the Madatsch being quite close to you. In front of you, beginning at the Ortler, beyond the green meadows and the Trafoier Bach, which are below you, is a range of slaty coloured mountains, so near that you can make out every object upon them, the detached rocks, the cattle, and the decaying trunks of fallen pines. The first of this range runs athwart the roots of the Ortler, its gray summit being overtopped by the Ortler’s snowy dome. This range is steep, barren at its summit, and shagged with cliffs, some gray, and some stained black with lichens. Its flanks are seamed with slaty coloured couloirs, between which are breadths of Alpine pasture above, and below the more or less scattered pines of an open forest, in contrast with the close forest that rises against the black Madatsch. Then on your left, as you look down the Trafoier valley are many distant summits of the Tyrol: supreme among these is the snowy cathedral nave, gleaming in the bright midday sun.

This view was my most distant point; and it seemed a worthy conclusion of my outward course. It was a grand and varied scene: mountains black, and mountains gray, and mountains white; snowfields and glaciers, cliffs and couloirs; forests of closely set, and forests of scattered, pines; emerald meadows in the valley, and sombre pastures on the heights. Within hearing the appropriate music of the Trafoier Bach. Above all the luminous field of unfathomable blue, sparingly chequered with a few streaks and flecks of white cloud, just as on the earth beneath the intermingled shade varied the bright sunlight that was being shed over the forests, and the mountain sides, and the cliffs of the ridges. Close by, somewhat to the left, was a small cluster of humble shingled châlets, the village of Trafoi, to suggest the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows of the peasant’s life; just in front, was the last and chief structure of the little village, the little church with its humble shingled spire, to suggest the villager’s anticipations of a life beyond the present scene. At 4 P.M. clouds began to form on the highest summits. First, the distant snow-wall, that seemed to connect the further side of the Ortler and of the Madatsch, became lost to sight; then the Ortler and the Madatsch themselves put on their cloud-woven bonnets de nuit. The bottom line of this cloud-mass was now ruled straight. It just reached down to the glaciers. All above and beyond them was utterly lost to sight. The level, gray cloud-mass was to the eye a solid stratum, which originated the glaciers, and out of which they streamed down into our valley.

In the evening we walked through the meadows and pine woods, and across the Trafoier Bach, to the foot of the glaciers.

CHAPTER XII.
TAUFFERS—VAL AVIGNA—CRUSCHETTA—SCARLTHAL—TARASP.

So for yourselves ye bear not fleece, ye sheep;

So for yourselves ye store not sweets, ye bees;