The Cinque Fratri, I. to V., are the rock peaks to the right of Monte Albano, the highest summit seen.
Facing page 32.
More than a week ago, on the occasion of an ascent of Monte Albano, Bryn and I had admired the boldly soaring outlines of Paglia Orba (8,300 feet). In particular the clean-cut, awe-inspiring precipices of the north-east face drew our attention. A prolonged inspection of this huge wall revealed two apparently weak points. The one was formed by a series of snow patches indicating ledges, probably connected by small cracks or chimneys and ledges invisible to us from a distance. The whole series formed a huge C in white on a background of black rock. A snow field on the summit of Paglia Orba formed the head of the C-ledge, while the lower end began about eight or nine hundred feet lower down and about half-way up the upper, more or less perpendicular, wall. Several larger snow patches indicated a possible connection between the foot of the C and the gentler slopes below the great final wall. The other weak point was indicated by a deep shadow, betraying the presence of a chimney, joining the summit snows with a small snow patch in the wall some thousand feet below the top. On the east face, which offers no absolutely blank and perpendicular walls comparable with those of the impressive north-east face, we could see plenty of easy ways of gaining the summit. They threatened to be rather dull and uninteresting; so, in the hopes of finding a day’s difficult work, we determined to finish up our climbs in the range of the Cinto with an attack on the north-east face of Paglia Orba.
After a sumptuous breakfast of porridge and coffee we left camp at 8.15 a.m. on April 15. We followed the stream for some ten minutes then, crossing it near a dilapidated cow-shed, set to work to plod up the snow slopes leading to the north-east wall. We took turns of an hour each to break trail, for the snow was already soft. As far as possible keeping to the rocks that here and there cropped out of the snow, we rose fairly rapidly. By 10 a.m. we were on a level with the lowest of the Cinque Fratri. Half an hour later we began climbing hand and foot up broken rocks to the right of some steep snow slopes. In order to save time, and being sure of ourselves, we did not use the rope. To avoid an overhang just below the top of these rocks, we were forced to cross under a small waterfall which thoroughly drenched us. Thence mounting a very steep snow slope, we gained the narrow, heavily corniced crest of a minor ridge which seemed to descend from the beginning of the great C-ledge. The work ahead looked serious. We roped, Bryn being invested with the responsibilities of leadership. The fun began at once. Difficult chimneys, choked with masses of snow and ice, alternated with small snow slopes lying at a dangerously steep angle. Good belays were generally conspicuous by their absence. At 1 p.m., having risen some six hundred feet above where the rope had been put on, we were pulled up short by a smooth wall which appeared to bar all possible access to the foot of the C-ledge. We were on the upper edge of a comparatively large snow slope of triangular shape which had been clearly visible from our camp. We knew that the foot of the C-ledge was some two hundred and fifty feet, the summit itself over a thousand feet above us. The way up those two hundred and fifty feet seemed all too well guarded. To right and left, the ledge supporting our snow patch ran out into smooth, perpendicular walls. We were standing on the upper rim of the ledge in a position which, owing to the lack of any belay whatsoever, was by no means too secure. A chimney led up presumably to the foot of the C-ledge. The first few feet appeared to be extremely difficult, and the leader would undoubtedly have needed the assistance of the other two if he were to tackle it with any hope of success. Higher up, the chimney looked even worse and was finally blocked by a huge, ice-covered, overhanging chock-stone. Far above we could see the icicle-fringed summit of Paglia Orba, from which water trickled down. Occasionally icicles broke away and fell past us, proving the wall above to be overhanging. Some two hundred feet from our standpoint a part of the wall had broken away, leaving a huge overhanging platform which would have made an excellent site for a bivouac if only the mountain had been turned upside down.
Whilst munching some bread and chocolate we had ample time to review our surroundings thoroughly. We made the best use of our opportunities, the more so as we were beginning to think this was to be the highest point of the day’s climb. We knew that the Austrian climber, Herr Albert Gerngross, and his guide, Konrad Kain, had attempted the climb during the previous year; also, Dr. von Cube, a well-known pioneer of climbing in Corsica, had referred to the wall in terms of the impossible. At present, after a lengthy inspection, we were scarcely in the mood to disagree with him. Finally, admitting defeat, we turned to descend. When almost a rope’s length down the now dangerously soft snow slope, I remembered having omitted to photograph the ledge running out to the right. I halted a moment and asked Bryn to use his camera to save me the trouble of reascending. To obtain a better view, Bryn carefully crawled out along the ledge in the opposite direction. This chance move saved the day, for, some ten feet above his standing-point, Bryn now caught sight of another ledge which would enable us to enter the chimney above the most difficult pitch. On hearing this welcome news I rejoined the others with all possible haste, and together Maxwell and I shouldered Bryn up on to the newly-discovered ledge. Once on this, Bryn made rapid progress. Maxwell followed, and, after a struggle, I arrived to find that they were already attacking the chimney immediately below the huge, ice-covered chock-stone. The climbing had now become extremely difficult. Bryn rounded the chock-stone by climbing out of the chimney over some precipitous slabs to the right, finally gaining the upper level of the chock-stone. A period of intense anxiety followed upon our rejoining Bryn. Should we have to return or could we push through? A series of short snow-filled chimneys and ledges led up and round several corners. Each time on clearing one corner we could overlook only the ground as far as the next. But whether we were getting nearer to the summit or to a forced bivouac still remained to be seen. At last we gained the beginning of the C-ledge. On following this, though not without difficulty because of its incline, we saw that it was broken off at the foot of the huge chimney previously considered as possibly affording an alternative route to the summit. We now perceived, however, that the chimney was formed by a clean-cut buttress jutting out at right angles from the wall, and that it overhung considerably. Bryn crossed the chimney and, by climbing a very difficult and exposed series of cracks in its left wall overhanging an appallingly steep precipice, regained the C-ledge. “How’s the view?” we called out from below in one breath. Once again we only learn that the climb can be continued to the next corner. While Maxwell was rejoining Bryn he had the misfortune to drop his axe. It fell, providentially without once striking rock, into a tiny patch of snow some eighty feet lower down the big chimney. Maxwell and Bryn lowered me down until I could reach it, and then unmercifully hauled me up to their perch without giving me the least opportunity of climbing. Exercising the utmost care, we proceeded along a series of highly sensational ledges leading in an almost unbroken line from corner to corner. All the time belays were few and small. On rounding what proved to be the last corner, we saw before us a broad chimney which was choked by what resembled a frozen waterfall crowned by a huge cornice. The sun shining on the cornice told us we were at last approaching the north-east ridge where we could expect easier climbing. What appeared to be an excellent belay enabled us to pay out Bryn’s rope with some measure of security as, crouching, he followed the ledge to its extreme end. The sloping floor of the ice-choked chimney was about two yards from the end of the ledge on which we stood. Far below could be seen our tracks in the snowfields, but of the wall beneath we were only able to imagine the appearance. Altogether, even a climber could hardly conceive of a more exposed spot.
Paglia Orba from the Cinque Fratri.
The C-ledge is visible on the dark rock precipice immediately below the summit.