[§ 32.] Winter on the Mer de Glace.
225. The winter chosen is an inclement one. There is snow in London, snow in Paris, snow in Geneva; snow near Chamouni so deep that the road fences are entirely effaced. On Christmas night—nearly at mid-night—1859, your deputy reaches Chamouni.
226. The snow fell heavily on December 26; but on the 27th, during a lull in the storm, we turn out. There are with me four good guides and a porter. They tie planks to their feet to prevent them from sinking in the snow; I neglect this precaution and sink often to the waist. Four or five times during our ascent the slope cracks with an explosive sound, and the snow threatens to come down in avalanches.[D]
[D] Four years later, viz. in the spring of 1863, a mighty climber and noble guide and companion of mine, named Johann Joseph Bennen, was lost, through the cracking and subsequent slipping of snow on such a slope.
The freshly-fallen snow was in that particular condition which causes its granules to adhere, and hence every flake falling on the trees had been retained there. The laden pines presented beautiful and often fantastic forms.
227. After five hours and a half of arduous work the Montanvert was attained. We unlocked the forsaken auberge, round which the snow was reared in buttresses. I have already spoken of the complex play of crystallising forces. The frost figures on the window-panes of the auberge were wonderful: mimic shrubs and ferns wrought by the building power while hampered by the adhesion between the glass and the film in which it worked. The appearance of the glacier was very impressive; all sounds were stilled. The cascades which in summer fill the air with their music were silent, hanging from the ledges of the rocks in fluted columns of ice. The surface of the glacier was obviously higher than it had been in summer; suggesting the thought that while the winter cold maintained the lower end of the glacier jammed between its boundaries, the upper portions still moved downwards and thickened the ice. The peak of the Aiguille du Dru shook out a cloud-banner, the origin and nature of which have been already explained ([84]). (See [Frontispiece].)
SNOW-LADEN PINE-TREE.