The actual summit rest was cut somewhat short owing to the cramped nature of the seating accommodation; but, on the almost level plateau from which the cliffs sweep down into the gap between the big and the little Dru, we discovered almost sufficient room for the laying out of a tennis court. After an unusually excellent, mountaineering apology for lunch, I set out to prospect for the best line of descent into the gap. At one point, almost directly in line with the two summits of the mountain and on the extreme edge of the plateau, there were a number of fixed coils of rope hanging round a jutting out rock; but on leaning as far forward over the precipice as was possible, it seemed to me extremely doubtful whether we had enough rope to enable us to descend in safety at this point. Had Max and I been alone, we should doubtless have slid down the doubled rope without more ado; with a new companion, however, we had serious doubts as to the prudence of this method of procedure. It behoved me, therefore, to cast farther around for an alternative route where the individual roping down distances were not so great. We had heard vague rumours of the existence of a so-called “Z” route, but had no notion as to where to look for it. Prospecting in the direction of the Grandes Jorasses revealed nothing useful, and I turned my attention to that corner of the plateau from which the northern precipices of the mountain fall away. Here, a short, partially ice-clad gully revealed itself. Faint traces of steps were still clearly visible in the ice, and a conveniently-placed boulder had a new and serviceable looking sling fastened round it. Not quite satisfied that this was the beginning pitch of the sought-for “Z” route, I went back to fetch a rope and to enlist Max’s help in making a more intimate exploration of the chimney and its hidden secrets. Securely held by Max, I descended the gully for about fifty feet, and was then able, just before the gully faded away into thin air above one of the most appalling precipices I have ever looked down, to step over on to a small platform situated directly under a huge, overhanging nose of rock. Crossing this platform in a couple of steps, a clear view of the rocks leading down into the gap presented itself, and showed that one, or at most two, comparatively short descents on the doubled rope would solve any remaining difficulties.
Returning to the foot of the gully, I yelled up the good news to Max, who went off to fetch our friend and the knapsacks. After sending down the latter to be stowed away on the platform, Max fixed a doubled rope to serve as an extra support for our friend’s descent of the chimney. Securely held by Max’s sturdy grip, and with a little judicious pulling from below, he was soon down. Max followed, giving a perfect exhibition of how this sort of thing should be done, and was on the platform and pulling in the doubled rope almost before our comrade had realised that he was on terra firma. Twice again we repeated these roping down tactics over a series of steep slabs, which, however, could have been descended by ordinary methods of climbing without too much difficulty. After the last use of the doubled rope, I went on with a view to saving time by seeking out the rest of the descent into the gap. This lower part of the wall was easily negotiated by means of a series of well-defined ledges leading to a final short chimney immediately above the gap. After passing up this information to Max, I walked over the broad ridge built up of huge blocks of granite, towards the summit of the little Dru, and arrived there at 12.30 p.m., just as the party with whom we had exchanged axes earlier on in the morning were leaving for the big Dru. After carefully shepherding our companion down the last chimney above the gap, Max grew tired of slow and careful methods and completed the descent in great style by a bold glissade which landed him on all fours in a tangle of rope on the broad back of the gap—much to our concern, who mistook his voluntarily rapid descent for the result of a slip. A few minutes later we were reunited on the spacious and flat summit of the little Dru.
The view I suppose must have been glorious, but, candidly, I remember little more than the sinking feeling caused by an inspection of the extraordinary precipices into which the mountain falls away to the north; and even this keen impression soon had its edge taken off by the enjoyment of the result of Max’s noble efforts with a tin of peaches, condensed milk and snow.
At 2 p.m. the pleasant sojourn came to an end, and we embarked on the descent. The way down was shrouded in complete mystery though, on the whole, the general opinion of the party inclined to the view that a bee-line for the Montanvert would give the correct direction, at all events for the first part of the descent. In any case we felt no anxiety, for one can do much with plenty of rope. Accordingly, taking the Montanvert as the objective, we set off, and the fun began at once. Immediately after leaving the summit, we had to resort to the doubled rope in order to descend a long and steep chimney which ended on a ledge of most ungenerous proportions. Our friend here provided a little thrill. He was half-way down the chimney, with still practically forty feet to go, when something apparently went wrong, for he turned a somersault in mid-air and finished up the descent head downwards, with feet waving frantically in the air and his felt hat floating gracefully down over the precipices. Max had him secure on the climbing rope, however, and so he was never in any danger.
It was almost impossible to obtain anything like a clear survey of the ground ahead, for the general steepness was certainly excessive, and numerous inconvenient bulges and overhangs hid far too much from view. After a short consultation, Max and I confessed to one another that neither liked the appearance of things in general, but as there were no eager volunteers for climbing back up the chimney that had just been roped down, it was decided that we should take the chances of carrying straight on. Steep chimney after steep chimney followed, and not only did we see no signs of previous descents or ascents, but the ground became increasingly difficult. Finally, when we had arrived at a point level with and slightly to the south of the enormous, slate-grey patch below the summit, which is so prominent a feature of the Dru when seen from the Montanvert, all possibility of further descent seemed precluded, and we were forced to realise that the outlook was somewhat critical. To our left we could see the ridge over which the correct line of descent must certainly have led, and we were, therefore, faced with the question of either gaining this ridge by a most unwholesome-looking traverse, or by retreating back to the summit. The latter alternative could only be regarded as a very forlorn hope, and not to be attempted unless the traverse should prove impracticable. The chief drawback of the traverse was the fact that we would be able to give each other little or no help or support until the worst was over. However, it was no good wasting time in indecision. I have forgotten many of the details of the traverse, but at first it led across almost vertical slabs by means of the minutest of cracks and ledges. The climbing was most difficult and, owing to almost complete lack of belays, somewhat risky. But our companion rose brilliantly to the occasion and tackled the difficult and exposed slabs in a steady, sure-footed style and with a complete absence of nervousness. Before gaining the ridge, the work became less serious. Comparatively broad and broken ledges separated one tier of slabs from another, and easy ground finally led round on to the ridge at a well-marked step or depression a short distance below a prominent gendarme which, I believe, is known in Chamonix as “le Poisson.”
On the summit of the little Dru.
Facing page 278.