Ski-runs in the High Alps

by F. F. Roget

Those forecasts, brought to the proof, were borne out by reality. The snow, which had fallen three days before (a light, powdery snow, coming down in whirls), had gained no footing, nor could it, upon such an arête as that of the Dent Blanche. The little of it which the sun had not had time to melt we swept away with our gloved hands. It was an easy job, as that of ladies’ maids brushing away the dust on their mistress’s sleeves, and we certainly did not complain of having some little tidying-up to do.

Fifth Day.—At six in the morning some early mists were trailing slowly on the ice and snow-fields between the Dent de Bertol and the Dent Blanche. The light of the setting moon broke occasionally through the clouds. The weather might be uncertain—and it might not, for the glass was at fair. The mists turned out to be, as on the preceding days, such as herald a beautiful autumn sunrise. A start was made in the direction of the Col d’Hérens. Slowly the day dawned, and found the party on the Glacier de Ferpècle. By that time we could make out which was the real direction of the wind in the middle of those mists which seemed to drift about aimlessly. It actually blew from the north-east, then from the north, with a steady but moderate strength, which abated entirely only at sunset. The impedimenta were, for the most part, left on the northern side of Col d’Hérens, keeping but a few victuals, the three ice-axes, the climbing-irons, and two ropes. We turned the heads of our ski against the north wind, skirting the foot of the big southern arête, so as to reach a small terrace situated above the spot marked Roc Noir on the map. On this terrace the ski were firmly planted in the snow. Dismounting, we fastened on our climbing-irons. Three ski sticks were kept along with the three ice-axes.

Among the first rocks the party halted in order to take some food. It was 9.15. By means of the ropes two caravans were formed, and these soon started, exchanging a cheerful au revoir in case some incident should separate them.

The brothers Crettex and Marcel Kurz were on the first rope; on another myself, Louis Theytaz, and Léonce Murisier, this last carrying the bag of eatables.

The fairness of the weather, the capital condition of snow and rock, and the fitness of the party would have made it quite possible to reach the top of the Dent Blanche at one o’clock in the afternoon. But there was no good reason for any hurry. A quick march might bring on some fatigue, or at least some totally unnecessary tension of mind and physical effort. This would entail some slight additional risk to no purpose whatever. The climbers had the whole day before them, and need not make any allowance for difficulties when returning to the Bertol hut, for they would follow their own tracks (which they knew to be safe) back across the glacier, whatever time of night it might be. Consequently this ascent of the Dent Blanche was deliberately carried out, and almost without any effort. It was accomplished in such leisure as not to need any quickening of the pulse.

Maurice Crettex and Louis Theytaz were fully acquainted with every peculiarity of the Dent Blanche, and treated her with as much familiarity as though they had been babes sitting on the lap of their own grandmother. The Crettex section of the caravan got on to the arête at a trot, and began to ride it (the expression is false, but picturesque) at the point 3,729. Lunch was relished at point 3,912. Thence the two sections kept about 50 yards apart. Up to the first Grand Gendarme the arête is undulated rather than broken up, and quite comfortable to follow. There are fine glimpses on the Obergabelhorn to the right and on the Matterhorn; the cornices of the arête formed round those pictures magnificent frames with an ice fringe.

I had long been curious to ascertain what might be in winter the condition of the famous “plaques” or “dalles” (slabs), which have acquired such an evil reputation in summer. No such thing was to be seen. They were pasted over with excellent snow, in which Maurice Crettex dug a few steps when the ice came near to the surface. He seemed to do it as a matter of form: assuredly it would have been an irregular practice to do otherwise. It is true that without our excellent climbing-irons we might have been much less at ease. In point of fact, it was enough to dig out the snow with one’s boot-tips and to stand firmly in the holes on one’s climbing-irons in order to skip over those formidable slabs.

The arête offered the best means of progress immediately after passing the Grand Gendarme. This appellation is bestowed upon the turrets, which, constable-like, bar one’s progress along a ridge. On the rock of the arête there was the merest sprinkling of fresh snow, so dry and light that it could easily be brushed aside, and nowhere prevented one’s gloved hands from securely grasping the rock. The scramble was quite interesting, and the hours passed by so agreeably while proceeding up this magnificent staircase, that nobody felt in a hurry to shorten the pleasure of the climb. There was occasionally a bit of a competition between Louis Theytaz, leader of the second rope, and Maurice Crettex, leader of the first, as to who should lead the van, but Crettex would not yield his place, and stormed on.

Here I left my stick planted in a mound of snow on the arête. We might, or might not, pick it up on the way back, and I took my chance. This stick was worthy of being planted and left there. It was a beautiful bit of cane, smooth and white as ivory, which I had picked up from a heap of drifted wreckage on the Cornish coast, in the preceding summer, while bathing. What scenes it might have witnessed upon the deep I did not like to picture. Yet, but for its suggestive power, I should not have brought it the whole way from Watergate bay.

It has always been my fancy to unite in one sweep of vision the ocean and the mountains, the deepest with the highest. My Dent Blanche might be one of a school of whales stranded on high when the waters withdrew, and my harpoon was well placed, sticking in one of the vertebræ of her petrified spine.