At 9 a.m. we arrived at a point about half-way between the bergschrund and the summit of the Schneehorn and, observing that the rocks higher up were sprinkled with new snow, decided to look round for a suitable site to bivouac. Failing to find a platform large enough to seat all five together, we rummaged about in detachments for convenient ledges and eventually settled down within speaking distance of each other.
The ledge chosen by Max and myself was small and narrow. With our backs to the wall above and feet dangling over the cliff falling away to the glacier below, we planted the cooking apparatus between us. The next two hours were spent partly in attending to cooking operations and partly in chipping Hans Almer who, every few minutes thinking he espied a more suitable abode than the one he was occupying at the time, was continually on the move changing house. At 11 a.m. it began to snow in a desultory, intermittent manner. Then came a sleet and hail storm with chilly gusts of wind from which there was no sheltering. Before midday it snowed in real earnest, and it was obvious that, unless an immediate change set in, there could be no hope of our continuing the climb next day. New snow lay two inches deep over the rocks when, at one o’clock, Dr. Fischer gave the word for retreat.
The descent over the now snow-covered rocks demanded great care; but, once down on the glacier, we plunged in long strides over to the crevasse in the great ice wall. The steps of the morning were all obliterated, but, unhesitatingly and in spite of the mist and snow, Hans unravelled his way through the séracs and presently brought us out on to the Guggi Glacier. Dr. Fischer elected to rest here; but Hans told us to go straight on, advising us not to retrace the line of previous ascent, but to try and get through over on the right bank close under the rocks of the Mönch. Acting on his advice we found there a good way and at 3 p.m. were safely back in the hut.
Presently Dr. Fischer’s party arrived and, after a brief halt, returned to Grindelwald to await more auspicious weather. Max and I, having a stock of provisions sufficient for more than a week, could afford to wait on the spot, ready to drive home a renewed attack as soon as the weather cleared. In the early hours of the morning of July 29, the sky was still overcast; so we slept on well into the day, awaking, too late for breakfast yet too early for lunch, to find the sun blazing down from a cloudless sky and dissolving the rolling billows of cloud in the valleys below. After an orgy of a meal that we elected to call “brunch,” we basked on the roof of the hut until, early in the afternoon, the sun sank behind the Jungfrau. Towards evening we carried our surplus provisions over to the Eiger Glacier to be forwarded by rail to the Eismeer station. On returning to the Guggi hut, we found Dr. Fischer and his guides once more installed therein, full of confidence in the prospects.
At 2 a.m. on July 30, we again set forth on our quest. Not a breath of wind stirred; the sky was cloudless. Hans Almer sent us on ahead to lead the way. Knowing the ground well now, we forged up through the first icefall and came to a halt on the gentle snow slopes at the foot of the Kühlauenen Glacier icefall, there to await the arrival of the others. They had no sooner reached us than Dr. Fischer found that he had lost his tea flask, so he and Hans went back to look for it. In the meanwhile Ulrich and we two shivered and stamped about in a vain endeavour to keep warm. Just as it was becoming light enough to dispense with the lanterns, Dr. Fischer rejoined us, having found his precious flask in the snow at the very edge of an immense crevasse just above the Guggi icefall.
By 5 a.m. we were walking over the almost level basin of the Kühlauenen Glacier and soon afterwards were grappling with the rocks of the Schneehorn—no longer without difficulty, for much fresh snow hampered us in the finding of foot- and handholds. Beyond the site of our bivouac of two days ago, we found the rocks so buried in snow that Hans had to clear a way with his axe. Progress was accordingly slow, and it was not until 7 o’clock that, cutting through the little cornice at the head of the final, short, steep, snow slope over which the summit of the Schneehorn (11,200 ft.) is approached, we set foot on the Giessenmulde, the third of the five plateaux. Henceforward our ways lay apart. While Max and I were bound for the direction of the Little Silberhorn, Dr. Fischer and his guides were to turn off to the south towards the immense slopes of gleaming ice leading up to the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau. But so quickly are friendships formed in the mountains that already, after such a brief acquaintance, we were by no means loth to retard the hour of parting by settling down to breakfast.
“We basked on the roof of the Guggi hut.”
Facing page 62.