At first we had only hard snow to deal with, and four or five well-directed blows with the blade of the axe were sufficient to produce a good, firm step. We mounted straight upwards, keeping to a safe middle line between the slopes on the left, which were liable to be swept by falling ice, and those on the right, furrowed and scratched by stone-falls from the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau. Many mountaineers, when cutting up ice or snow slopes, favour a zig-zag course, traversing diagonally upwards, first to one side and then to the other. Such tactics have their disadvantages. The making of such a stairway, for instance, involves the cutting of a greater number of steps, and, in addition, these steps must, in the interests of safety, be large enough to accommodate the whole foot; while those required if a vertical route is followed need afford room for only half the foot, that is, from the toe to the instep. Again, on a zig-zag course, should any member of the party slip, there is much less chance of arresting his fall, as the climbers are seldom, if ever, directly below each other. In the present case, however, we had no choice; any route save that leading straight upwards would have brought us into danger from ice on the left or from stones on the right. Already, though only about fifty feet above the bergschrund, the slope was so steep that it was necessary always to cut three to four steps ahead of that upon which one stood. But the hard, firm snow was ideal carving material. Always using the blade, two good hard blows marked out the base, and a further two, or at the most three, sufficed to break away the roof and leave a good solid step.
About one hundred and fifty feet above the schrund, conditions began to change. The snow gradually thinned out, and the pick of the axe had to be employed in finishing off the hard ice floor of each step. Eventually the snow disappeared, exposing smooth, bare ice, translucent and colourless when seen from close at hand, but faint blue-green as the glance travelled up the grim slope above. It was the real thing—an ice slope—a trial of strength to gladden heart and eye. The pick of the axe now came again into play. To economise labour and time, I cut large steps for the right foot only. These were deep enough to accommodate the four front spikes of the climbing iron, and thus afforded good support for the part of the foot below the ball of the big toe. By standing on the right foot alone, with the left knee in the small notches that served as steps for the left foot, I could work without tiring and in a well-balanced position. The ice was of the hardest. As many as thirty to forty blows went to the making of each large step, but a dozen served for the small, rough indentations into which the two front spikes of the left iron could bite as we climbed from one right foot step to the next above. Max kept close behind me; of shorter stature than I, he was kept busy hewing out here and there additional steps between my rather far apart ones. An hour went by. Away down at the bottom of the “blue precipitate stair” lay the bergschrund, but the upper end of the ice slope seemed to be as far off as ever. Then the ice steepened until it was so sheer that it was only just possible to retain one’s balance without having to make handholds. The work was really severe, and great care was needed in cutting; a single ill-aimed blow of the axe might easily have destroyed one’s equilibrium. Stones, freed from the grip of the frost by the warm rays of the sun, hurtled down past us in little avalanches from the north-east ridge of the Jungfrau, or skimmed giddily by, one by one, within half a rope’s length of us, down the glassy surface of the wall. Max, who had kept count of the steps since leaving the bergschrund, helped to mark our progress by announcing their number as each tenth one was finished. The three-hundred-and-twentieth step brought us almost level with the snow slopes of the upper surface of the hanging glacier and its séracs, and, turning towards our left, we began to traverse over towards it. A small bergschrund was the only barrier in the way. It proved a difficult little customer, and as a slip on the part of either was not to be risked, every precaution known to us was employed to cross it in safety. After making a huge step as near the upper lip as was practicable, I carved out a knob in the ice. This done, Max passed the rope behind the knob and thus belayed me securely while I clambered over the bergschrund on to the hard snows of the hanging glacier. There I cut two more large steps and, driving my axe in to the head, belayed Max’s rope over it while he made his way towards me. Then Max, in his turn, drove his axe in as far as the head and belayed me as, still cutting steps, I moved over to the less steep slopes on the left. As soon as the rope was paid out Max followed while belayed by me in the same manner. After cutting a further hundred steps or so, the angle of the slope became so much gentler that the climbing irons alone could be relied upon to bite firmly into the snow.
Difficulties were over. Thenceforward a mere walk up easy snow slopes led to the gap that lies to the right of the well-known little snow peak in the Jungfraujoch (11,398 ft.), and at 10 a.m. we gained the ridge at a point about one hundred and fifty feet higher than the true pass. Below lay a black speck in the gleaming snow of the Jungfrau Glacier. It was the little pile of belongings which we had dumped there in the early morning, and in that dump were cooking apparatus, tea, sugar, biscuits—everything to gladden the heart of the mountaineer. For the doubtlessly magnificent view from the Jungfraujoch we had no eyes. Thirst and hunger hunted us forth. A short glissade down a snow slope, a little manœuvring that brought us safely across a diminutive bergschrund, and we were floundering knee-deep through soft, sodden snow to our provision depôt. There we made our first halt worthy of the name since leaving the Bergli hut nine hours previously and, at peace with ourselves and the world in general, enjoyed a well-earned rest while the cooking apparatus produced the means of ministering to our more material requirements.
Evening storm.
Morning calm.
Facing page 80.