Since traversing Monte Rosa in 1911, this was my first visit to the Bétemps hut. The hut had been slightly enlarged, but otherwise I found everything much the same. It seemed almost incredible that eight years had elapsed since I had last watched the setting sun tinge with red the summits of that glorious line of peaks which runs from the Matterhorn to the Weisshorn. Numerous other parties arrived at the hut towards the end of the day, and, in order not to impede their preparations for a meal, we turned in to sleep at a fairly early hour.
At 2 a.m. on August 18, 1919, we were up just in time to see the tail-end of numerous Monte Rosa parties disappear. They took with them their unsated curiosity as to our intentions, for, having our doubts as to the possibility of winning through on our climb, we had refrained from giving them any inkling of our intentions. Shortly after 3 a.m. we were ready to move off and descended over the moraine on to the Gorner Glacier, across which we struck in a due westerly direction. Several times we trod through into concealed pools of icy water and got our feet thoroughly soaked. It was still dark when we arrived at the steep moraine which marks the beginning of the north ridge of Pollux; and in the fitful light of the lantern, the ascent of this moraine, composed of mud and loose stones poised at an almost impossible angle, was little short of misery. At last, however, its summit was attained, and progress became better. Later on, where the moraine fizzled out into snow slopes, the light of day enabled us to dispense with the lantern, and we put on the rope. Proceeding up these snow slopes, dodging an occasional crevasse, we kept steadily on in the direction of the depression which lies a few yards due north of the first of the three prominent humps on the north ridge. We stood in this depression at 5 a.m. and immediately began the attack on the steep ice bulge which defends the approach to the next hump.
At first we mounted rapidly over fairly steep slopes covered with excellent snow. These, however, gave out as the slope increased, and we were reduced to cutting in bare ice. This proved to be of an extraordinarily tough consistency. It was dark grey, at times almost black in colour, and frequently the only result that a blow from the axe accomplished was to make a small hole, from which the pick tenaciously refused to be removed except at the cost of much twisting and pulling. In all, we had to cut about one hundred and sixty steps; but, for the reasons I have mentioned, progress was inordinately slow. Towards the top of the slope, we were able to save much work by making use of the irregularities in the sides of a crevasse which cut vertically into the ice. Once above the steeper portions of the slope, good snow led up to the summit of the middle hump (nearly 12,000 ft.) which we reached at 7.15 a.m.
The third hump is about six hundred feet higher up, and the ridge connecting it with the point on which we now stood was in part heavily corniced. We therefore kept fairly well to the west of the ridge, but had to pay dearly for doing so; there was a great accumulation of new snow, and the work of stamping was heavy.
By 8.30 a.m. we had passed round and slightly below the third hump, and gained the foot of the final slopes into which the north ridge of Pollux broadens out ere it reaches the summit. The next obstacle in our way was an extremely unpleasant-looking bergschrund surmounted by an enormously steep ice wall some seventy to eighty feet in height. At a first glance, it appeared doubtful as to whether this obstacle could be overcome, so we wisely decided to call a brief halt in order to recruit our strength.
At 8.45 a.m., leaving my knapsack with Liniger and taking in exchange his axe, I started out to see what could be done with our formidable antagonist. By standing on the lower lip of the bergschrund and pushing both axes up to the hilt into the good snow on the other side, I was able to haul myself across and kick a somewhat precarious foothold. Still making use of Liniger’s axe as a handhold and cutting steps with my own, I succeeded in securing a better purchase on the steep slope leading upwards from the upper lip. The angle of this slope was certainly over sixty degrees; yet, in spite of this, it was hung with vast quantities of dry, powdery snow. To obtain a foothold without first sweeping this away and then cutting steps in the ice below, was impossible. To the right, a few yards higher up, a flake of ice had become partially detached from the wall, and, after gaining this, I was able to find sufficiently good standing ground for Liniger to follow. The next hundred feet consisted of perfectly straightforward cutting, though the ice was still very steep and covered with masses of soft, new snow that had to be swept down prior to the hewing out of each step. The cold was considerable, and Liniger began to complain of losing sensation in his feet. For my part, I did not suffer from cold, as I was wearing Norwegian ski-ing boots, inside of which were three pairs of thick woollen socks. Frost-bite would have been a most serious matter at this point of the climb, so we made every effort to gain the gentler slopes at the foot of the final wall below the summit. At 10 a.m. we reached these slopes which stretch in the form of a terrace almost across the whole of the north face of Pollux. Firmly digging in the axes and belaying our ropes round them, we sat down and, after removing Liniger’s boots, proceeded to inspect the damage, if any. To our relief, animation was restored by vigorous and prolonged rubbing, and we replaced his sodden socks with a dry pair which he was fortunate enough to have in his knapsack.
The weather, which up till now had been clear, began to assume a doubtful aspect. A westerly wind was sweeping masses of cloud towards us from the Breithorn, and occasionally we were enveloped in mist. As neither of us knew anything whatever about the descent of Pollux, it was clear that we had no more time to lose. Liniger took the lead and, dashing furiously ahead, kicked his way up the final slopes, until bare ice breaking through the snow rendered this method of progress no longer possible. Once more the interminable step-cutting became necessary. A small bergschrund was passed almost without its presence being noticed. The final slope is steep and consists of pure ice, but we found it covered by the same incohesive masses of new snow which had so impeded our progress lower down. Liniger worked valiantly, and, in spite of the circumstances, we made comparatively rapid progress. Long before reaching the summit, we were shrouded in driving, clammy mist, and the cold became bitter. It was not until 12.30 p.m. that we eventually reached the top (13,432 ft.). We had been almost nine and a half hours on the way, of which time little more than half an hour had been spent in resting. But we were by no means out of our troubles. Having got up, it now remained to be seen how we were to get down. Neither of us had any desire to return by the way we had come, for the idea of a descent of the last formidable bergschrund in doubtful weather was not exactly to our liking. We knew that a comparatively easy line of descent lay down a ridge somewhere to the south-west of the summit; but the difficulty was how to find the beginning of this ridge in the intense mists. However, it was no good remaining on the summit itself and waiting for the mists to clear; there seemed no prospect of that happening within a reasonable time. Taking a compass bearing, therefore, I set off in a south-westerly direction, with Liniger bringing up the rear. It was impossible to survey the slopes for more than a yard or two ahead, and, after having descended some distance in this manner, we gave up the search for the south-west ridge and, turning due west, gained some rocks which, as it transpired later, lie on the west face of the mountain. Their appearance was far from prepossessing. They were extremely steep and slabby, but on the principle of a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush, we decided to venture down. The rocks did not belie their appearance. They proved to be difficult and were thoroughly plastered up with ice and snow. On several occasions we resorted to the use of the doubled rope. A steep, slabby gully ending in an overhang brought us to the top of a tremendously steep ice slope, the first sixty feet of which we descended by means of the doubled rope. Thence, after cutting steps towards a rib of rocks, we descended this, and, plunging down final slopes of soft snow, crossed the bergschrund on to the glacier at a point immediately south of the Schwarztor.
The mists now cleared and revealed to us the west wall of Pollux, down which we had just found a way. It would be difficult to imagine a more unprepossessing line of descent, especially when one considers how much ice and snow lay about on the rocks. However, we had nothing to grumble about now, as our difficulties were over in so far as getting off the actual peak was concerned; and, in addition, we had, thanks to the mist, even descended by a new route! That trouble was still in store for us we were aware, because we had noticed that the huge icefall in the Schwärze Glacier was in bad condition. Knowing that we might experience considerable delay in passing through this icefall, and not wishing to run the risk of a bivouac, we lost no time in traversing round to the Schwarztor and crossed over the pass at 3 p.m. The weather showed distinct signs of improvement, and occasionally we obtained fitful glimpses of the sun through breaks in the mist. Such breaks were welcome, for it was sometimes difficult to detect the presence of crevasses when the sun was obscured. As elsewhere, the glacier was laden with fresh snow, and frequently we sank in knee-deep. On leaving the Schwarztor, we descended the glacier practically in the direction of the Gornergrat and met with no serious opposition until arriving at the upper edge of the great icefall. An attempt to break through on the right failed ignobly, and we were reduced to retracing our steps for some considerable distance. Another attempt was then made, this time through the centre of the icefall; but, although we managed to make some headway, a huge wall, from which it would have been impossible to rope down without sacrificing an axe, again blocked all possibility of further descent. Once more we were forced to retrace our steps. Our third attempt proved lucky; we found a way out by crossing a most unpleasant crevasse and traversing along its lower edge. Finally, crossing some broken slopes and running the gauntlet of possible fire from several séracs of doubtful stability, we reached the open glacier. Passing over this and the moraine on the far side, we soon gained our tracks of the morning and, at 6.30 p.m., were once more back at the Bétemps hut.
CHAPTER XII
THE MATTERHORN—A BEGINNER’S IMPRESSIONS
By Agnes Isobel Ingle Finch