I was on the very rope when ascending the Dent Blanche. It was an old rope, but perfectly satisfactory. Why are the best of ropes liable to snap? After this accident, which roused his personal interest as it did mine, my friend Kurz instituted experiments on all kinds of rope material on the market. The results showed conclusively what rope material, under tension, was the best, but no light was thrown upon the supposed greater liability to snap when frozen, either when dry or after absorbing moisture. All we know so far about the breaking-point of mountaineering ropes, is that they may break under a shock which will leave a man unmoved in his steps though, on trial, they may resist a tension far greater than can be put upon them by the dropping suddenly into space of a man’s weight.
An athlete may burst a taut chain by muscular effort. A horse may burst his girths by a little inflation. What about a slack rope?
Popular imagination, baffled by such obvious but unexplained contingencies, at once suspects foul play. The strangest stories may be heard in the Val d’Anniviers about Theytaz’s broken rope.
Mr. Moore’s own account appeared in the Alpine Ski Club Annual for 1911, and runs as follows:—
“On January 28th last, a party assembled at Martigny, A. V. Fitzherbert, A. D. Parkin, and myself, with four guides: Félix Abbet and the three Theytaz brothers, Louis, Benoît, and Basile, all of Zinal. Next morning we walked up to Fionnay, where a small hotel had been opened for us. The snow was in perfect condition, and as we had an hour or so of daylight to spare, we enjoyed some practice runs on an excellent slope just outside the village. Here we made the acquaintance of three ex-presidents of the Geneva section of the Swiss Alpine Club, who were learning to ski in this deserted retreat. They had a comfortable chalet, where we spent a most pleasant evening, surrounded by Alpine paintings and old Swiss wood-carved furniture.
“At 8 a.m. on the 30th we got off, provisioned and equipped for a hard two days, and started up the valley to Chanrion. It was easy-going as far as Mauvoisin, but beyond that the summer path was quite impassable in places, owing to the overflowing and freezing of streams. We lost much time over these, and finally had to descend to the bottom of the gorge, which afforded much better going.”
May I break here the thread of the narrative to insert an observation. Louis Theytaz had got information from us as to this passage, and had been told that the summer path was known in the Bagnes valley to be impassable in the winter, particularly with ski. The gorge is the right ski-ing route.
“A steep and trying couloir brought us up to Chanrion. We left next morning at 6.30, and made for the Glacier de Breney, where we were able to put out the lamp. It was pretty cold. Near the top there must have been nearly 50 degrees of frost. The glacier presented no difficulties, the only obstacle being an ice-fall, up which we had a little step-cutting.
“The trouble began about an hour below the Col de Breney, where we were met by a piercing north-east wind, which struck us in gusts, sweeping up clouds of powdery snow, through which one could hardly see. The snow was quite hard under foot, and all, except Louis, took their ski off on reaching the col. Half an hour’s walking brought us to the top of the Pigne (12,470 feet), where we got the full benefit of the gale. The view, however, was magnificent, and fully justified the struggles of the last few hours.
“We stopped on the top about five minutes, and then returned to our ski and began the descent to the Glacier de Seilon. For half an hour we descended on foot over wind-swept slopes, at first gentle, and then steep and crevassed, till we at last got out of the wind and into the sun, when a short halt was made. At this point I became painfully aware that three fingers had been temporarily frost-bitten. Parkin also had lost all feeling in his toes, but did not realise how bad they were till later on. We were soon off again on ski, and on perfect running snow, in the following order: Benoît, Fitzherbert, and Louis on the first rope, myself and Parkin on the second, followed by Félix Abbet and Basile unroped.