The two most important uses to which the mountaineer expects to put his axe being to cut steps in ice or snow and to employ it as a belay when driven into either, the design of an axe should be governed largely by these two requirements. The different parts of an ice-axe are as follows:—The head consists of the pick (with the straight, curve and point), the centre-piece, the blade (which is connected to the rest of the head by the neck), and the two fingers by means of which the head is attached to the thicker end of the shaft. The other end of the shaft carries the ferrule and spike. The head of the axe should be hand-forged, and the metal must be neither so soft that it bends easily nor so hard that it is readily fractured. Measured from the middle of the centre-piece, the lengths of pick and blade should be 8 in. to 8¹⁄₂ in. and 4¹⁄₄ in. respectively. The straight of the pick should form a right angle with the axis of the shaft. If the angle is more or less than a right angle, excessive vibration of most unpleasant character is readily set up while cutting steps. The width of the cutting edge of the blade should be from 2¹⁄₄ in. to 2¹⁄₂ in. The fingers should not be less than 6¹⁄₂ in. in length, and the rivets by means of which they are attached to the shaft must not exceed three in number. As they pass right through the wood, they tend to weaken the shaft and must not, therefore, be unduly multiplied. The shaft of the axe should be made from well-seasoned, straight and fairly close-grained ash and occasionally dressed with linseed oil. For a man about six feet in height, an overall length of 33 in. to 35 in. is the most suitable. A shorter man would do well to use a shorter axe. A longer axe gets in the way more easily, is more difficult to handle, disturbs the aim and, on account of the greater vibration set up at each blow, unduly tires the hands and is liable to cause blisters. For similar reasons, the shaft should not be round in section but elliptical. A round shaft does not fit so closely into the hand and, weight for weight, is also less strong than the oval one. At the head, where the fingers are attached to the shaft, the larger diameter should be 1¹⁄₂ in., the smaller ⁷⁄₈ in., tapering at the ferrule to 1¹⁄₄ in. and ¹³⁄₁₆ in. respectively. Some climbers tack a leather ring or similar protuberance round the shaft, a few inches above the ferrule, with the object of affording a better grip and so preventing the axe from slipping through the hand when cutting steps. Apart from the fact that there is no reason why an axe should not be grasped in such a manner that it does not slip in the hand, such a contrivance is liable to cause blisters and seriously interferes with an important function of the axe, namely, the testing of snow bridges over crevasses and otherwise sounding the condition of snow. Some makers construct the ferrule and spike in one piece. Such an arrangement lacks the strength of the simple ferrule and spike made separately. The ferrule should not be too short, or it may fail to hold the spike or give sufficient protection to the shaft. The protruding portion of the spike should be 2¹⁄₂ in. to 2³⁄₄ in. long, of square section ⁹⁄₁₆ in. where it emerges from the shaft and tapering off to a rounded point. Many amateur climbers adorn the heads of their axes with slings made of leather or of some woven material, the object being to enable the owner to carry his axe by passing the sling over the wrist and thus leave the hand free for climbing. This is a dangerous practice. An axe carried in this manner is liable to get caught up in the rock and may thus lead to a serious disturbance of the climber’s balance. Furthermore, such slings must be removed when step-cutting is necessary. The proper way to carry an axe, when climbing rock where one does not wish to have a hand encumbered, is either to tuck it into the rope at one’s waist or hang it through a small loop at the back of one’s rucksack. So placed, it can be readily and without loss of time taken out when wanted and as easily put back. On very long rock-climbs, where the axe is perhaps not needed for hours on end, probably the best way to carry it is to pack it head downwards into one’s rucksack with the spike end protruding at the top.
Climbing irons, also known as crampons, or ice-claws, are of the greatest assistance to those mountaineers who know how to use them. A climbing iron consists of a steel framework which can be attached to the climber’s boot by means of straps or thongs, and is provided on the under side with a number of sharp points, teeth or prongs. These should number either eight or ten, preferably the latter; four to the heel and the remainder to the sole. A badly-fitting climbing iron is worse than useless, inasmuch as it may prove a source of danger. The position of the teeth should be such that they approximately follow the contour of the sole and heel of the boot. Above all, it is essential that the front prongs should be placed well to either side of the toe and at least level with the tip of the boot, if not actually projecting. The two prongs at the back of the heel should be similarly placed. The prongs should be sharp and from 2 in. to 2¹⁄₂ in. in length, and, to obviate the necessity for frequent re-sharpening and consequent excessive shortening of the teeth, the use of the climbing irons on rock should be avoided as much as possible. When the prongs are worn down to a length of 1¹⁄₂ inches it is advisable to discard the irons altogether.
Nowadays, almost all climbers take crampons with them even on the simplest of ice excursions. Few, however, use them to the best advantage. When traversing across or climbing up a hard snow or ice slope without irons, the sole of the boot is always more or less at right angles to the slope. The edge nails on that side of the boot which is nearest the slope must do all the necessary gripping, and before the incline becomes so great that these slip, the axe must be resorted to and steps cut. Most people use climbing irons in a similar fashion, though, as a rule, the sole of the boot is kept nearer to the horizontal. In traversing an ice slope in this manner, it is true that the spikes of the crampons on the side nearest the slope will grip better than the boot nails alone would do and thus enable one to postpone the use of the axe. But in climbing vertically upwards only the two front prongs will bite into the ice, with the possible result that they may chip it away without securing reliable hold. To get the best use out of climbing irons, it is necessary to tread with the sole of the boot as far as is possible parallel to the slope. In this way all the points will be utilised. So used, sharp, long-toothed climbing irons will enable one to overcome extremely steep snow and ice slopes without the need of cutting steps. It is essential, however, that all members of the party be equally well equipped from the point of view of climbing irons and skill in using them. The inclusion of one who is deficient in either respect will make imperative the cutting of steps where it might well have been avoided. The climbing irons which Max and I had in 1909 were most defective in design. The teeth were short, barely one inch in length, and blunt, and the toe and heel prongs, instead of being level with, or projecting from, the toe and heel of the boot, came underneath. We were forced, in consequence, to cut almost as many steps as if we had had no crampons at all. They did assist, however, in that they enabled us to stand more securely in our ice steps and obviated the necessity of carefully cleaning out and making smooth the floor of each step.
At 12.30 a.m., on August 1, 1909, Max and I crept down from our sleeping bunks and stealthily, lest we should disturb the still slumbering occupants of the hut, proceeded to light the fire for breakfast and prepare for our departure. At 1.15 a.m. we were outside the hut putting on the rope and otherwise ready to move off. The night was calm. Up the snow slopes above the hut to the Mönchjoch we made our way, lighted by the fitful glare of the lantern through a black shadowland girdled by a belt of silver whence, under the brilliancy of the full moon, the grotesque séracs, like sheeted spirits, kept watch over the eternal solitudes. Our pace was good, and soon we topped the Mönchjoch and, stepping from out the shadow, crossed the head of the Ewigschneefeld. Rounding the corner of the south ridge of the Mönch, we strode through a glittering fairyland to the music of hobnailed boots crunching into the hard-frozen snow. On the Jungfrau Glacier, immediately below the Jungfraujoch, all superfluous baggage was dumped, to be picked up on the way down to the Concordia hut after the climb. We fastened on crampons, and were soon climbing up the snow slopes leading to the Rotthal Sattel, below the final bergschrund of which a brief halt was called for a scanty meal—a couple of biscuits, which should, as all climbers know, have been washed down by warm tea. We had, however, to dispense with the tea; the flask containing it eluded my grasp and, sliding down the slopes below, plunged into the black depths of a great crevasse. No loss, they say, is without its compensating gain; I had now, at any rate, less weight to carry, and snow would serve almost as well to assuage thirst. The Rotthal Sattel was swept by an icy west wind, so we raced full tilt up to the summit and arrived there on the stroke of five, just as the upper edge of the sun peeped over the horizon. For some moments we stood in wonder at the daily miracle of dawn as it skimmed from glacier to glacier, from mountain-top to mountain-top, and stirred the earth to blushing wakefulness. But all too soon we became aware of a cold wind seeking its way through our rather light clothing and noticed that our toes were beginning to lose sensation, our boots being badly fashioned with low toe-caps. Turning towards the north, we ran down over the Hochfirn at a breakneck pace, in the hope that hard exercise would chase away the chill. Along the Silbergrat and down past the Silberlücke the mad rush continued until, gasping for breath, we gained the shelter of the Silbermulde. Down the little Silberhorn fresh steps had to be cut, our old ones having vanished; and, as during this operation Max had felt the cold again, we ran across the Giessenmulde to the Schneehorn. Descending the rocks, now almost free from snow, we gained the Kühlauenen Glacier and crossed it in the direction of the huge bergschrund guarding the approach to the ice slope leading up to the Jungfraujoch. We sat down on the lower lip of the bergschrund to rest before tackling what promised to be the most arduous part of the day’s task, and also to satisfy hunger with a sparing meal of bread, chocolate and snow. Max having relieved me of my knapsack which he packed into his own, we readjusted the climbing irons, taking up all the slack in the thongs by which they were attached to our feet, and set off to discover a way across the schrund. Not until we had explored well over to the left, underneath the great séracs that flanked the left of the slope up which we intended to cut our way, did the great, overhanging upper lip of the bergschrund show a hopeful weakness in the shape of a disfiguring cleft. Notwithstanding this breach, however, a stiff struggle ensued ere the difficulty was overcome. Driving both axes to the head into the good snow of the wall of the upper lip, I clung to them with both hands and, little by little, helped by a shoulder and a push from Max, pulled myself up with all the strength of my arms to the top, where I hewed out a large, secure step in which I was able to stand safely and steadily as my brother made his way up to me. We were now, however, in the direct line of fire from the séracs above; so, cutting steps over towards the right until out of harm’s reach, we turned upwards to face the formidable slope which was to prove the hardest part of the day’s work.
Cutting steps over the upper lip of a bergschrund.
Facing page 76.