Geographically and technically the euphemistic title of this chapter is not without excuse. The Oberland is theoretically taken to include not only a western, but also an eastern wing, on to the Galenstock and Dammastock. Popularly, the name Oberland is understood to apply to the great range which is cut off on the east by the Grimsel and Haslithal, on the west by the Gemmi and Kanderthal. Classical literature agrees with the popular definition, the main point about which is, for ski-runners, that between those two depressions there is no pass that does not lead across glaciers.
The Oberland shows, between its extreme points, two parallel rows of peaks. The northern row overlooks the lakes of Thun and Brienz. The southern row overlooks the valleys of Loetsch and of Goms (in French Conches), leading up to the Furka pass. Of those parallel rows the northernmost, facing somewhat to the west, comprises the Blümlisalp and the Lauterbrunner Breithorn. The southernmost, drawing to the east, culminates in the Bietschhorn and Aletschhorn, and includes the summits which, under the names of Wannehorn, Galmihorn, &c., look down upon the glaciers of Fiesch and Oberaar, while the northern row, curving round the Lauterbrunnen Valley from the Breithorn, is crowned by that magnificent cluster overlooking both Scheideggs: the Jungfrau, Mönch, Eiger, Wetterhorn, &c., with the Schreckhorn and Finsteraarhorn somewhat in the rear.
Between those two rows a high glacial basin takes the form of an elongated trough. From distance to distance this trough shows transversal lips (cross-bars or threshholds, if one so prefers to style them), which are the upper Tschingel glacier with the Mutthorn hut (9,700 feet), the Loetschenlücke, with the Egon von Steiger hut (10,515 feet), the Grünhornlücke, between the Jungfraufirn and the glacier of Fiesch (10,840 feet), and at length the Oberaarjoch (10,800 feet), between the Oberaarhorn to the north and the Oberaar-Rothhorn to the south. One sees from the figures quoted that those glacier passes all reach to an altitude exceeding 9,000 feet. The top of the arc—to speak like Euclid—would pass over the Finsteraarhorn at an altitude of 14,035 feet.
This high level is, in the opinion of Sir Martin Conway, who followed it in his journey through the Alps from end to end, the very finest snow-field in the Alps. It passes at the head of the greatest ice stream, and is sufficiently remote from the Italian border to escape the unfavourable influence which the Rhaetic, Lepontine, and Pennine faces of the Alps have to endure from the hot atmospheric currents and inordinately violent action of the sun.
“Two things were necessary for the success of this trip,” says Arnold Lunn in one of his printed accounts; “good weather and immunity from accidents. We could reduce the chances of accidents to a minimum by a careful scrutiny of our kit, and we could reasonably expect fair play from the weather by judiciously choosing the moment to begin our attack, though, of course, the weather is always the most fickle factor in determining the success of an expedition.
“As regards kit, I carried two pairs of gloves, one made of reindeer skin lined with sealskin, the other a thick pair of woollen gloves, a woollen scarf, a silk scarf, and a woollen helmet. A spare suit of underclothing and two pairs of stockings completed the list of extra clothing. I wore laupar boots and goat’s-hair socks on my feet, with a pair of crampons in my sack for rock and ice-climbing. And here, incidentally, let me remark that the ordinary crampon-nails which are fixed into the sole of the boot soon spoil laupars. The only practical kind are those which are sold in summer to be strapped on under the boots.
“I think I have at last found the ideal ski-binding for mountain work. It is made by a Geneva firm, and was given me by Professor Roget. It never gave any trouble; it was strong and tough. It did not vary in tightness with the temperature, and, most important of all, it could be put on and taken off at a moment’s notice. This is really essential, as one may meet with short stretches on which it pays to ‘take up one’s ski and walk.’
“I tried, for the first time, a pair of sealskins, and found them answer admirably. They reduced the labour of climbing by 20 per cent., weighed hardly anything, and could be taken on and off without any trouble. An extra ski-tip, a pair of Canadian rackets, ‘climber’s guides,’ maps, &c., completed our kit.”