The summit of the Tödi.
Facing page 116.
During the whole trip I had not worn any head-gear, and now all my own property in that line lay under the glacier. The first few minutes of inaction revealed two facts. Firstly, for all the protection from the wind our Palace Hotel, as Obexer named the happy home, afforded us we might almost as well have camped out on the normal, unprepared surface; secondly, that my head was covered with an inch of ice and snow, icicles were pendent from eyebrows and eyelashes, and one half of my face was dolefully sore as if from commencing frost-bite. So I borrowed the nearest rucksack and tucked my head into it. The dark interior was full of snow; but by now I was accustomed to snow, and the storm at least was outside. Feeling round inside my novel head-gear for apples, which the owner reported to be there, provided some excitement. One or two, and much sugarless ice-cream, I found and promptly gobbled. The gloveless hand found comparative warmth in the pocket of my sodden jacket.
Long before morning we were all wet through. Every little while the three who lay full length struggled, wriggled and rolled until top and bottom positions were exchanged. Everyone continually buffeted, slapped and shook his neighbours or himself, no one being allowed to remain silent or motionless for more than half an hour. To beguile the sleepless hours by songs, jests and yarns was out of the question, as the storm howled louder than any or all of us together. Morgenthaler and Weber, unluckily, had only woollen gloves, which were long since sodden and frozen. Spare socks helped somewhat, but anything woollen was soon soaked and rendered useless. Consequently, they chiefly complained of frost-bitten hands. Weber, whose vitality did not appear to equal that of his companions, required much attention, in spite of which he at times complained of the attacks of Jack Frost at his toes and other parts of his anatomy. Yet, all things considered, the time passed rapidly enough in the bivouac, and not half as unpleasantly as one might have expected under such conditions. Once the storm tore the mists apart for a second, and a glimpse of the sharp rock summit of the Grünhorn to the left served to reassure us as to our exact position. Later on, towards dawn, I fell sound asleep, only to awake when someone announced it to be 8 a.m. At first I could not account for the darkness which surrounded me, then suddenly I remembered my head was in the rucksack. Outside this “abode à la ostrich” it was broad daylight, but grey white, and there were no signs of any abatement in the fury of the storm. I must have slept quite an hour.
We all stood up and stamped about. The storm seemed fiercer than ever, and in our soaked condition the cold was doubly penetrating. We decided to attempt further descent on foot, leaving our skis to be recovered on some later occasion. Ski-sticks were planted to mark the scene of our camp, then the ropes re-arranged and joined together. The crevasse I had fallen into had no bridge on the left, so we headed horizontally to the right. Almost at once the steepness of the ground increased rapidly, and it was soon necessary to cut steps. When we had advanced but a few rope’s lengths, it became all too evident that we could not descend the icefall as long as the storm raged. Every few minutes terrific gusts would force us to our knees, all but sweeping us off our steps. So when we came to a fallen ice-block and found a four-foot-deep hollow in the snow beside it, we decided to camp anew, in the hope that the gusts were but a final effort on the part of the tempest and sign of its approaching exhaustion.
Later in the morning, deceived by lengthy pauses between the shrieking blasts of the gale, we made two more vain attempts to continue the descent. Soon after noon it commenced to snow very heavily, and we were glad, for surely now the wind would cease. Shortly after 2 p.m. the storm was all but a thing of the past. At 3 p.m., satisfied that no more fierce gusts were likely to surprise us, we resumed the descent which had been interrupted by a total of nearly twelve hours in bivouac.
Many steps had to be cut, as now all traces of our ascent had disappeared. It was hard work and cost much time, as all were very stiff, and none had escaped more or less severe frost-bite. We found the right way off the ice wall, letting ourselves down by the rope; but unravelling tangles and loosening knots was painfully hard on our fingers. Being on foot, we at first thought of returning past the Grünhorn hut and took a few steps in that direction; but when once again I made the acquaintance of the interior of a hidden longitudinal crevasse, the majority voted for the descent by the lower icefall. The walls of the Bifertenstock were alive with avalanches, invisible on account of the falling snow and dense mists, but ever crashing over the precipices and rumbling down close on our right. On the plateau below the icefall, the mist became so dense that we had to steer for the hut by compass. After some hours’ vain stumbling round about where we thought the hut should lie, we found it shortly before 9 p.m. On the table was a note from Forster, informing us that he had descended to collect a rescue party. Had we been in anything like undamaged condition, we should at once have continued our descent down to the Linthal Valley. As it was, we ate a frugal supper; then slept like logs till far into the next morning.
On Tuesday, owing to a temporary sleeping fit of our only remaining watch, we prepared to leave the hut two hours later than we had intended. Obexer and Morgenthaler started off immediately after breakfast, in the hope of preventing a rescue party from setting out. We did our level best to tidy the hut, and then had to spend over an hour softening Weber’s boots on the stove before he could force his sorely frozen feet into them. Arriving too late in Linthal to catch a train home, we passed the night in the comfortable quarters of the Raben Hôtel. During the evening, the welcome message arrived telling of Obexer’s success in telegraphically sending a rescue party composed of members of the Academic Alpine Club back to Zürich, before they had proceeded beyond Thalwil on their outbound journey.