To face p. 248.
“Having reached Lago Bianco, we went due south, the wind at our backs. Looking down, we saw the valley of Poschiavo sunk in the mist. We rapidly crossed the lake and the level ground beyond, when dawn began to break. By the time we had passed Pozzo del Drago it was already broad daylight. At the steep wooded slope above Alp Palü we took off our ski and put on crampons. The ten- or eight-pronged crampons fit very well on to ski. They are wide enough—being calculated to enclose the heavy-nailed sole of mountain shoes—to embrace the blade of the ski, and the bands are long enough to be buckled conveniently over one’s boots.
“To the left appeared Le Prese, with its lovely lake among forests of chestnuts, while to the right began to tower the threatening mass of the Palü glacier, which formed part of our route. We were again running on our ski when, at this point, the snow proving very slippery, we attached our sealskins.
“These should be fitted with a ring to throw over the point of the ski, and should stretch down to the middle of the ski, where they should terminate. Here they are fastened to the ski binding by a proper mechanical contrivance. They may be taken on to the back end of the ski, but then they are difficult to stretch and fix over the heel of the ski. It is quite unnecessary to carry the sealskin so far back. The clamp under the beak of the ski completes the arrangement and tightens or loosens the skin ad libitum.
“We continued thus till our arrival at the first fall of the glacier, when, to reach the opposite side, we passed along a narrow strip of snow we had noticed and marked to that effect some time before. The slope became so steep that our sealskins failed to adhere, and we were beginning to skate about on the hard crust of snow. Above our heads hung the séracs, which forbade our venting our wrath in loud vociferations. We strengthened ourselves, therefore, with the additional safeguard of our crampons, and proceeded comfortably, taking care to have a firm grip of the hard snow. On arrival at the first table of the glacier we stopped for breakfast and enjoyed the sun. Before us stretched a long causeway of snow to the top of the glacier; near us Pizzo di Verona, its ice cascades resembling a shower of glittering emeralds, cast a shadow on all around. The weather was glorious. Stäubli introduced me to several of his old friends towering on the opposite side. Far beyond appeared the majestic Ortler group.
“We continued our ascent round the western side of the glacier, roped this time. At the foot of Piz Cambrena we took the direction of the col opening to the west of Pizzo di Verona, and from thence an easy way opened up through wonderful séracs all aglow with the morning sun. Va piano, va sano. A few more gaping crevasses had to be carefully avoided, then the névé became even, and we finally reached the col, leaving behind us the Palü glacier, moping over its mysteries now unveiled. It was midday.
“We could not restrain an outburst of admiration at the new world before us, with the Disgrazia as the culminating point. Stäubli, mad with delight, began a wild dance on the edge of the precipice. One of the many slabs of stone which surrounded us served well for a table. While the kettle was boiling we could have had time to ascend Pizzo di Verona, but we preferred to remain where we were and enjoy the wonders before us, taking an occasional photograph. A great stillness reigned everywhere. We did not talk. We understood each other just as well, perhaps better. But why should there not have been more than the two of us to enjoy that glorious sight? Would that I could have transported all you city people to magic scenes like these!
“I cannot help thinking of one who, regularly every day, at Zürich, comes to the restaurant where I dine to play his game of chess at a table near me. He salutes his partner, the small glass of cognac is brought, the cigars are lighted, and then the game begins and continues to the end, without a single word being uttered, and this each day of his life. Poor wretch, how I pity you! How shall we repay our fathers for showing us the mountains and their glory?
“We were roused from our motionless ecstasy by a sensation of cold, and upwards still, continued our way along the Italian frontier towards the Piz Zupo, and lazily skid over the frozen ice-waves of the Fellaria glacier. How shall I describe the fairy-like scenes met at every step? We came to the foot of the huge buttresses of the Piz Zupo and Piz Argient. What a contrast between those awful, dark, jagged arêtes and the snowy robes flowing round their feet? Further on we came into a fresh region of glaciers, dazzling in their brightness, with the mass of the Disgrazia in the background, sunk in shadow.