Castor.
“... a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and ice” ....
Facing page 154.
A halt was called for breakfast, and, after a welcome cigarette, we put on our climbing irons. The bergschrund, which gaped widely open to right and left of where we stood, was completely filled with snow and ice—débris from the avalanches which pour off the north face through a funnel whose opening meets the bergschrund just here. To cross the schrund we had to cut steps, as the snow was too closely packed and hard-frozen to admit of kicking. After cutting some sixty steps, however, we were able to dispense with the use of the axe and kicked our way rapidly upwards over steep slopes of frozen snow in the direction of the north-east ridge of the mountain. This earlier part of the ascent, for a distance of about a thousand feet from the bergschrund, was accomplished in a remarkably short space of time, as we were exposed to avalanches from a tier of ice cliffs that enfiladed the funnel up which we were advancing. During the latter portion of the ascent of these slopes, we gradually worked over to the east in order to find a way round the extreme eastern edge of the ice cliffs. A flaw in the cliffs, however, absolved us of the necessity of traversing very far to the left, and we were soon able to strike straight up towards the diminutive bergschrund which cuts into the north-east ridge of Castor at a height of about 12,800 feet. Before reaching this bergschrund, the general slope eased off considerably, and the snow became powdery and deep. Once upon the gentler snow slopes, the direction again changed, and we struck out towards Pollux, ploughing a way slowly through the tiresome snow. In this fashion we arrived at the bergschrund at a point directly below the north summit of Castor, and paused for a few minutes’ rest before assaulting the final steep slopes. So far, Mantel had not been unduly impressed with the supposed difficulties of ice-climbing, but the very last slope was steep, and I felt sure that we would meet with ice which would impede our progress sufficiently to make him alter his opinion. But, once again, the bergschrund was easily overcome, and, to my disappointment, we were able to kick our way up beyond it without cutting a single step. The snow was perfect. Not until we were within a rope’s length of the north summit did we meet with ice. The slope here was considerable; but after a quarter of an hour’s hard step-cutting even this final part of the ascent was accomplished. At 11 a.m. we stood on the north summit and a few minutes later had crossed the easy snow ridge leading to the highest point (13,878 ft.), where we arrived in a little over seven hours after leaving the Bétemps hut. The conditions had been exceptionally favourable, save in so far as the first icefall on the Zwillings Glacier was concerned. I have only heard of one other ascent of Castor by this route, and that by a strong guided party who were in all, from hut to summit, eleven hours, some eight hours of which was occupied in step-cutting. This fact shows plainly enough that, with unfavourable conditions, the climb can be quite a severe and laborious one.
The day was fine and all but windless. We were in no hurry to get back to the hut; so, seeking a comfortable perch on the rocks overlooking the Italian side of the mountain, we indulged in a protracted summit rest of over two hours.
The descent over the Felikhorn to the Felik Pass was without incident. Shortly after leaving the pass, the snow became wet and soft, and being only two, we had to exert great care in picking our way round the innumerable gigantic crevasses which intersect the upper slopes of the glacier. With the exception of some on Mont Blanc, I do not think I have ever seen such huge crevasses as those met with during this descent. At 4 p.m. we had safely regained our morning track, just where it emerged from the tangle of the lower icefall of the Zwillings Glacier. The passage of the delicate bridge, which appeared to provide the only means of crossing the first big crevasse, was attended with a certain amount of anxiety; but by crawling on all fours so as to distribute one’s weight as equally as possible, and otherwise showing due respect to our decaying friend bridging the gaping depths beneath, the passage was successfully accomplished. The rest of the work, which consisted in further following our morning tracks through the maze of séracs and crevasses leading down to the Grenz Glacier, offered no serious difficulty. At 5.30 p.m. we were once more back in the Bétemps hut.
Pollux.
Liniger, one of the ablest of the younger members of the A.A.C.Z., and I went up to the Bétemps hut on August 17, 1919, with the intention of climbing the north ridge of Pollux. Heavy snow had fallen, and the possibility of carrying out a big climb was out of the question. Not seeing, however, why this should materially affect our prospects of being able to get in somewhere or other a good day’s ice work, we had consulted Dübi’s guide book to the Pennine Alps, to find therein no recorded ascent of Pollux by the north ridge.