The north face of the Dent d’Hérens, showing route followed.
Back at the Schönbühl hut after the climb.
Facing page 210.
At 3.15 p.m., fifteen and a half hours after leaving the Schönbühl hut, we passed over the little snow-crest which forms the summit of the Dent d’Hérens. We did not halt; the weather was too menacing, and it behoved us to get off the mountain as quickly as possible. Just beyond the summit, we again altered the order of the rope—Forster retained the lead, Peto came next, and I brought up the rear. After a short, easy climb down the steep but firm rocks of the little summit cliff overlooking the north-west face, we struck a well-trodden track in the scree slopes, and passing down these and two ice slopes—the first a short one, the second long enough to induce us to put on climbing irons—we reached a point on the west ridge whence a convenient descent could be made over broken rocks towards the Za-de-Zan Glacier. With the exception of one chimney, which might well have been avoided, all was easy going until, at the foot of the rocks, we had to descend a little ice slope and cross the bergschrund below it. The deep snow covering the ice slope was in a parlous condition, and Forster had to cut well into the ice beneath in order to obtain secure footing. As luck would have it, we chanced to strike the best place to cross the bergschrund; for the misty haze now obscuring the sun also hid detail to such an extent that, until we were actually on the bergschrund, it was at times hard even to detect its presence. The usual sort of little zig-zag manœuvre by means of which the weak points in the bergschrund’s defences were connected up, saw us safely over on to the soft snow slopes below. We had no difficulty in getting through the first small icefall to the Za-de-Zan Glacier, though at one place we had to descend into a crevasse and make our way up the other side in order to effect a crossing.
Passing close under the Tiefenmattenjoch, a long tramp in soft, wet snow brought us to the edge of the lower icefall. Having been through this fall in 1919, I now went ahead. But, failing to keep sufficiently far to the left, I did not succeed in finding the quickest way through, with the result that, to escape from its clutches, we finally had to resort to the spare rope to descend a bergschrund which must have been nearly fifty feet high. From there onwards all was plain sailing. A glissade and a gentle walk over the nearly level basin of the glacier led to the top of the moraine, whence, free from the sodden rope, we plunged down towards the corner of the west ridge of the Tête de Valpelline, at the foot of which stands the Cabane d’Aosta. The ten minutes’ uphill walk to the hut was, for three weary mountaineers, as hard a pitch as any they had tackled that day. The hut was none too tidy, but we had food and, some kindly climbers having provided us with sufficient wood, we were able to cook quite a passable meal. The weather did not actually break that evening, but the whole sky was filled with dense masses of cloud driven up by the south wind, and we went to sleep expecting to have a lively time in crossing the Col de Valpelline on the following day.
Next morning we were under way at 6 a.m., and in less than three hours had gained the Col de Valpelline. The sky was completely overcast, and all major summits were hidden in cloud, but we suffered no inconvenience from mist and, in under four and a half hours after leaving the Cabane d’Aosta, were receiving the warm congratulations of the Schönbühl hut caretaker, who had watched our ascent through his telescope with such assiduity that he had strained his right eye and was now in a state of perpetual wink!
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