The Frisallücke.
The snow slope is intersected by a bergschrund, which in turn is cut by a trough formed by stones falling from the cliffs of the Bifertenstock on the left.
Facing page 148.
According to our pre-arranged plan, a brief halt was called and both ropes joined together. Meanwhile, the moon had disappeared behind the Zumstein Spitze, and two lanterns were lighted. We were now at a height of about 11,500 feet. My watch showed 2.35 a.m.; thus our rate of progress so far was satisfactory. From this point, however, the problem assumed a far more serious aspect. The general angle of the ground was very abrupt, and ice was everywhere laid bare by the scouring action of untold avalanches. A brief but heavy bout of cutting landed us on a small island of rocks, a last outcrop of the Imseng Rücken. Though inclined to be slabby, they were surprisingly easy and in a few minutes brought us to a steep, bare ice slope. To the left, a short traverse offered an easy way into the zone of séracs, the route of our predecessors; but, determined to adhere to original plans, we faced the slopes leading upwards. The axe rang to the tinkle of falling ice fragments. Case kept close behind and, with a lantern tied on to the end of his axe, lit up the ice in front of me. Max hewed staunchly away at deepening the steps, occasionally cutting additional ones to suit Obexer’s short legs; for, to save all possible time, the steps were cut as far apart as was consistent with safety. From far above in the wild crags of the Nordend came the rattle of falling stones. Down thundered the avalanche, swelling to a veritable torrent, and poured through the Marinelli Couloir. Some few boulders, as if possessed of a more adventurous spirit than the rest, leapt wildly across the couloir in great ungainly bounds, throwing up thick clouds of snow as they hurried over the upper part of the Imseng Rücken, which we had just ascended. No word was spoken; the labour of step-cutting went on steadily. The slope increased in steepness, until it was only just possible to cut without resorting to handholds. At last, after gaining some three hundred feet by the hardest of work, the slope suddenly eased off, and we found ourselves on an almost level platform at the foot of a huge sérac. Five minutes’ rest for sorely-tried lungs, and then onwards once more!
The first signs of dawn appeared and gradually dispelled the gloom with which the moon had plunged everything when it had disappeared behind the ridges high above; but it was still too dark to dispense with the lanterns. Traversing almost horizontally in the direction of the Punta Margherita, a series of easy snow ledges, interrupted here and there by the scoured-out, icy, avalanche-swept channels that exacted their due toll of step-cutting, led us well into the midst of the crevasses, bergschrunds and séracs with which this part of the east wall is so profusely armoured. Avoiding several likely looking opportunities of once more progressing upwards—for our previous reconnaissance had convinced us that the only way through the labyrinth lay close under the steep slopes of the Punta Margherita—we forced a way across, and sometimes even through, crevasse after crevasse, and above or below sérac after sérac. At last, after having thus traversed across almost the whole of the east face, a steep and rickety snow bridge over a bergschrund of quite unusual dimensions at last gave access to less steep ground where the climbing irons could find safe purchase without the cutting of steps.
Meanwhile, it had become light; yet, in spite of all possible efforts at speed, we had gained a level of only about 12,000 feet. The outlook was not too good, for there was still much fresh snow on the slopes above, and, with the sun’s advent, we should be at the mercy of avalanches until the rocks of the Grenz Gipfel were gained.
