During the nineteenth century, poetry and literature fostered summer mountaineering, and commercial enterprise was not slow in following in the wake of the intellectual and emotional admirers of mountain scenery. The High Alps were frequented by others than mere trans-Alpine travellers.
But it was reserved for the present generation to invent winter sports. By them, the Alpine winter has sprung into international life. Thanks to them, winter mountaineering is now fast adding a new branch to Alpinism.
In the light of this new age, even the most elementary principles of the mountaineer’s art have to be re-stated. Within the compass of the most modest pretensions, the present chapter aims at so doing—for winter sport lovers of either sex, whom the perusal of the foregoing chapters may further fire with zeal. General readers—ladies particularly—we would not rudely expect to be at pains to supplement, by incurring a course of severe trials, their deficient opportunities and brevity of experience. They will not regret their patience if they read these pages, which, roughly speaking, cover a ground beyond which few of them ever are likely to push their investigations.
None can safely and properly use ski in the Alps but they who have become acquainted with a mountainous country as summer pedestrians. But many now visit the Alps in winter only. As these have no previous acquaintance with the conditions of mountaineering, let them here take heed and be warned.
For want of minding these hints, you might fare like a famous physician of our acquaintance who, coolly, in mid-January, after an early breakfast, left his hotel, at Beatenberg, with a sandwich in his pocket, a few drops of whisky in his flask, and accompanied by his son, lightly clad and lightly shod like himself.
They went merrily along in the snow, on gently sloping ground bathed in the rays of the sun, till they found themselves by midday above a somewhat tall and far-stretching wall of rocks. The heat of the day and the weariness of the flesh promptly brought about the disappearance of the whisky and sandwiches. But the sun would continue to burn above and the snow to be deep below. Hot heads, icy feet, worn limbs. To trudge back seemed uninviting. So the tourists at sundown took to the steep rocks with trembling legs. Their hands were numb. They slipped on wet snow. They got no grip on the ice. They fell into snowdrifts. Their heads were dizzy. Their feet froze. To reach quickly the happy end of a sad tale, it was three o’clock in the morning when they were snatched from the edge of the grave by a party of peasants bearing lanterns and drawn to them by their despairing cries.
Like cases are well-nigh of daily occurrence.
So, if you would be a mountaineer, you may learn here a few things which probably you think you know already, but perhaps do not:—
1. How to Walk in Snow. Wear heavy socks and stockings, put on boots of stout leather with nailed soles and broad low heels.