From the Col des Avolions there is a delightful run down, full north-west, to the stream which the path crosses (see map) to lead up to the Chalets de Sery. Keep well to the right (east) of the point marked 2,419. We found the bed of the stream quite practicable on ski, as far as we required it to get round the point 2,419. Then we made for point 2,243, so as to keep on the level (about 2,190 metres), while leaving that point on our left, slightly above us. Then we proceeded down to the Alpe de la Lys, keeping above the tree-line, till we could ski down to Tougne on fairly open ground. Thence, to the bridge that crosses the Dranse to Lourtier, the ground is not complicated, or you may ski down to Champsec. We left the hut at 8 o’clock a.m., sat astride the Avolions saddle at nine, and entered Lourtier at twelve, having in nowise hurried ourselves.
It is a distinctive feature of mountaineering on ski that its votaries look for natural highways of a new character.
The winter snow opens up quite unexpected routes, and it will soon be the business of ski-ing clubs to issue maps revised from that point of view. A well-filled-up steep gully becomes an opportunity for building up a stairway that summer is unaware of. A gorge in which a dangerous stream brawls in summer on slippery rocks may now appear in the guise of an open and straight line of communication between upper and lower reaches separated by impassable shelves of rock. Glacier tails, at other times bristling with spiky séracs and riddled with gaping blue pits, turn into smooth bridges thrown over blanks in nature that were a torture to contemplate. Torrents are reduced to the size of tiny transparent rivulets closely hemmed in between narrow banks of solid snow and easily spanned by the long, pliable boards. A frozen-over and snow-wadded Alpine lake, toilsomely skirted in summer by winding up and down its rocky, broken shores, may be crossed from point to point by a smiling navigator. The word snowcraft acquires a new meaning. The runner eyes the country in its broad, general aspect, determines, map in hand, the bee-line leading to his destination, fixes upon the stretches of unbroken snow that will bring him round any unskiable places, and in the end gets home more after the style of birds borne through the air than after the fashion of the clod-hopping kind. Here is, to wind up with, a note of the total vertical displacement which we have shown may be attained, with ski, in the course of eight days. From Orsières to Cabane d’Orny, 1,802 metres; to Aiguille du Tour, 839; to Aiguille Chardonnet, 1,131; from Bourg St. Pierre to Grand St. Bernard hospice, 839; thence to Col de Fenêtre, 228; from Lourtier to Panossière hut, 1,613; thence to Grand Combin, 1,617; Col des Avolions, 125; metres, 8,194. Of course, the measurement on the ground would show a still more significant total, but I do not really believe that more than 600 yards need be added on that score. On the other side the following items may be deducted, as done on foot, climbing: Tour, 270; Chardonnet, 500; Combin, 1,000—metres, 1,770. This leaves, as actually ascended on ski, a minimum of 7,000 metres, a trifle under 23,000 feet.
CHAPTER VIII
ACROSS THE PENNINE ALPS ON SKI BY THE “HIGH-LEVEL” ROUTE.
The “high-level” route—Previous attempts—My itinerary—Marcel Kurz—The wise old men of Bourg St. Pierre—Maurice Crettex—Guides with bamboos and laupars!—The snow-clad cliffs of Sonadon—The Chanrion hut—Sealed-up crevasses—The nameless pass—Louis Theytaz—The Pigne d’Arolla—The Bertol hut—Why the Dent Blanche could be ascended—The ladies’ maids’ easy job—The dreadful summer slabs—We push past two “constables”—My cane—We bash in her ladyship’s white bonnet—The Ice-Maid presses gently my finger-tips—The cornice crashes down—A second night in the Bertol hut—The Col d’Hérens—An impending tragedy—A milk-pail versus ski—Dr. Koenig and Captain Meade—The real tragedy of Theytaz’s death—Ropes and crevasses—Mr. Moore’s account—My comments—The Mischabel range and Monte Rosa.
