There were still two hours of sunshine due before the last rays sank behind the Brouillard ridge, and these we utilised by changing our clothing (a lengthy process, as one hand was usually required for balancing purposes) and re-arranging knapsacks, all superfluous equipment being put on one side for the porters descending next morning. In spite of all my efforts to reduce weight, my burden for the morrow’s climb proved to be quite a respectable one. In addition to spare clothing, comprising shirt, storm cap and gloves, I had climbing irons, two cameras, films for seventy-six exposures in air-tight tins, and one day’s iron ration for the whole party. This, consisting of two pounds of chocolate, the same quantity of sausage, and fifty cigarettes, I had brought with me, feeling confident that the optimistic Adolf had made no provision as far as food was concerned for the possible eventuality of our being forced to bivouac a second time.
At half-past four we had a frugal but welcome meal of hot soup. At five the sun set behind the Brouillard ridge, and the inevitable chill of high altitude soon making itself felt, one and all prepared for the night. Alfred and I, finding our ledges somewhat too exposed for our liking, roped at either end of a sixty-foot rope which we belayed over a projecting rock. Six o’clock saw us all settled down more or less comfortably. From all accounts, I seem to have spent the warmest night, and in view of this a few particulars as to my sleeping-bag may possibly be of interest. It was home-made: 7 feet long and 3¹⁄₂ feet wide; it consisted of an inner bag composed of 3 lb. of finest grade eiderdown, quilted in 1-foot squares into the thinnest procurable balloon fabric, and an enveloping outer bag of similar material rendered air-tight and damp-proof by a coating of “Duroprene.” The total weight was just short of five pounds.
I crawled into my bag. But soon the inevitable stone in the small of the back, the antagonist of many a nocturnal episode in that wonderful Odyssey of the climber, Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers, began its insistent ministrations. Unlike the heroes of olden times, however, I, deeming discretion the better part of valour, not only resisted the temptation to put the enemy hors de combat, but, by the simple expedient of curling round and clinging fondly to it with my hands, I made of it a comrade in arms whose tangibility did much to dispel the feeling of insecurity born of the airiness of my perch. The last thing I remember was the crimson glory of the sunset touching the huge columns of storm-clouds which reared themselves aloft over the Grivola. I slept soundly. Twice only did I awake; once to find the lower portion of my anatomy dangling coquettishly over the Brouillard side of my couch; and again, stirred from a deep slumber by my instinctive grappling for an elusive handhold, to discover that I had transferred my legs to the Fresnay side.
About half-past four I was aroused by Adolf, rather blue about the gills, but cheerful as ever and obviously looking forward to a good day’s work. He winked portentously, then, with a somewhat vacant stare, looked out beyond me towards the plains of Italy. Following his gaze, I soon understood. Over the Paradiso group, vast thunder-clouds still brooded; the sky was streaked with ominous, long, dark, fish-shaped masses, and I suddenly became aware that a wind had sprung up and was blowing past our bivouac in angry, fitful gusts. It seemed almost as if our climb were going to develop into a race against the approaching storm. I returned Adolf’s confidential wink in kind as he passed me a generous cup of hot tea—a luxury which in similar situations, as a guideless climber, I had always had to procure for myself.
After a quickly-swallowed breakfast, all was bustle in our camp. My boots, which I had lashed to a rock to make certain of not losing them (horrible thought!), were easily pulled on, for, though stiff, they were very large. By 5 a.m. everything was packed, sleeping-bags rolled up handy for the porters, and, roping in the same order as yesterday, we began the descent on to the Fresnay Glacier. This led down a steep couloir over extremely rotten rocks. The danger of inadvertently loosening stones was so great that we gave Adolf and Courtauld time to get round a corner out of harm’s way before beginning our own descent. Once past the uppermost portion, the slope of the couloir became more reasonable, and we were able to work down over a rib on one side till we reached a point a little above the head of the uppermost icefall of the Fresnay Glacier. Our way to the upper basin of the glacier led across a steep, ice-clad couloir followed by an ice slope which bore palpable signs of being frequently raked by falling stones and ice. Before we were ready to proceed, however, a stone-fall of generous proportions clattered down into the couloir, isolated pebbles following at odd intervals. Nothing daunted, Adolf, the neatest, fastest, and most powerful step-cutter it has ever been my good fortune to see at work, banged away across the danger zone in great style. The descent on to the Fresnay Glacier occupied, in all, barely an hour. Besides the extreme rottenness of the rock, we had met with no real difficulty and were well satisfied with our rate of progress.
Threading our way through a maze of ice blocks, remnants of icefalls from the huge bergschrund above, we crossed the basin, veering round and up towards the bergschrund at a point almost immediately below the rocks flanking the western bank of Eccles’s great couloir. The previous evening we had decided that of the only two possible ways of surmounting the obstacle, this was the safer. The alternative lay in crossing the bergschrund far over towards the Pic Eccles, at the only spot where it was more or less adequately bridged. But this would have entailed hours of step-cutting across the stone-swept slopes above the schrund before Eccles’s couloir could be gained. At the point of attack a flake had become partially detached from the bergschrund, and Adolf and Courtauld made rapid headway to the summit of the flake which was, unfortunately, about twenty feet short of the top of the schrund. Seeing that further operations promised to take time, we ensconced ourselves comfortably down below, while Adolf brought his wits to bear upon the solution of the problem of overcoming twenty feet of practically perpendicular ice. He was half-way over the obstacle when he encountered a bulge which threatened to come perilously near destroying his balance. But the last ounce on the right side was supplied by Alfred’s ice-axe, after we had hurriedly joined Courtauld on his somewhat unstable perch. After that all was easy, at least as far as the others were concerned, for they seemed to find no difficulty in gaily walking up Adolf’s well-cut steps. But what with a knapsack on my back and a camera in my coat pocket, I found more than a little trouble in balancing myself round the bulge. This obstruction, in all sixty feet high, having been negotiated, a steep slope, sometimes snow, sometimes ice, intervened between us and our next objective, the rocks on the west bank of Eccles’s couloir. We mounted quickly, for scarcely a step needed to be cut, thanks to the plentiful pock-marks made by falling stones. On reaching the rocks, we found them almost unclimbable in their lower portion and were forced out towards the middle of the couloir—a procedure which necessitated the crossing of a deep ice-clad stone chute. Thence we climbed over a small island of rocks all but submerged in ice, from the upper end of which we were able to traverse back and finally gain the rocks on the west bank of the couloir, at a point where they were broken up and obviously easy to climb. None too soon, however, for hardly had the last man reached dry land when a stone-fall clattered down the couloir behind us.
It was 8.30; we had been nearly three and a half hours under way and for the best part of the time working at high pressure. On looking up towards the Peuteret ridge and Mont Blanc de Courmayeur, it appeared as if we had left all real difficulties behind us, and the optimists of the party prophesied being on the summit within a couple of hours. So, though the weather was fast becoming worse, we settled down light-heartedly to a second breakfast. The iron ration sausage was produced and attacked with gusto; though of the same breed, it differed distinctly from the ordinary salami, which to me is somewhat reminiscent of cat and dog. Whatever its constituents may have been, it went down well, being as savoury as usual, but less salted and not so highly spiced. We allowed ourselves half an hour’s grace, then stowed away our climbing irons and started up the rocks. They proved to be easy, though most unreliable. Here and there ice, covered more often than not by bad snow, took time to negotiate, but on the whole we made rapid progress. Shortly after ten we gained the end of the rocks; slightly below us and to the right was the point where the snowy upper half of the Peuteret ridge begins. A little snow slope brought us out on the ridge itself, but not without free use of the axe. The snow was deep and very bad; it lacked cohesion and concealed hard ice. Working along slightly on the Brenva side of the ridge, we at first found snow just sufficiently good to bear our weight in kicked steps, but in less than a rope’s length it had become so bad that it had to be cleared away before the climbing irons would bite into the ice underneath. The spikes of my irons, fully three-quarters of an inch longer than those worn by the others, proved their value here. By merely stamping, I could force my foot far enough through the snow to grip the ice below. This was one of the several occasions arising on this expedition where the presence of an indifferent ice-climber would have proved not only troublesome but a real danger to the safety of the party, by causing the loss of much valuable time. After progressing in this manner for about a hundred yards, we got tired of threshing down the execrable snow which seemed to get worse as we gained in altitude. Within easy reach both to the left and the right were rock ribs which offered a less tedious means of advance. A traverse of about thirty yards across the steep western flank of the Peuteret ridge brought us on to one of these ribs, the rocks of which soon showed themselves to be exceedingly rotten. Once more the climbing irons were removed and placed in our knapsacks. Oliver, at this point, had the misfortune to lose his axe; he placed it on a ledge, where it lost its balance and fell down in a few stately bounds towards the Fresnay Glacier. It was while watching the axe disappear that I realised for the first time the enormous general steepness of the ground upon which we were climbing.
The Aigulles Blanche and Noire de Peuteret.