Adventures on the Roof of the World

by Mrs. Aubrey Le Blond

“Now let me try for a moment to describe the appearance of the rock face up which we purposed making our way on to the arête. From where we were the arête appeared to run nearly due east and west. At the west it terminated in the precipices which face Mürren, and at the east with the peak whence we had arranged to signal to our porter. From this peak a ridge descended towards the valley bounding the side facing us. On that side the rock face itself was divided into two compartments by a well-marked ridge running down the middle, giving the appearance of two couloirs leading to the arête; the whole side was composed of extremely smooth rocks, with very little foot-hold or hand-hold which would be extremely dangerous, if not impossible, to attempt, if they were not dry. Fortunately, we found them perfectly free from either water or ice, and, with the exception of one difficult piece, which it took us some little time to surmount, we found nothing to check us until we were just under the arête. We ascended by the right-hand couloir, if I may so term it, and then made for the gap on the ridge at the extreme westerly end. Just below this gap we experienced some difficulty, owing to the excessive smoothness of the rocks, but finally reached the gap I have mentioned a little before nine.

“I need not say that our hopes rose high, and that we were in the very best of spirits, and when we finally stood in the gap itself we began to think the worst part of the work was over. We soon found, however, that it had hardly begun; it was all very well being in the gap, but the problem was how to get from there on to the arête itself; for, though the latter was not more than 20 feet above us, the peculiar formation of the rocks rendered every attempt to get on to it fruitless. The rocks hung over on every side. We exhausted ourselves in vain attempts to surmount them. An hour soon passed away, and after each of us in turn had failed, we sat down disconsolately to consider the situation under the lee of the ridge, so as to be out of the way of the biting north wind which was blowing. Looking round as we sat mournfully consuming some breakfast, I spied a bottle in a crevice, and found it contained the names of Mr C. E. Matthews and Herr E. von Fellenberg, with Melchior Anderegg and two other guides; it was undated, but recounted how they had reached this spot and had been obliged to return without achieving their object, which apparently was identical with our own. This was the last straw, and exasperated Ambrose to the highest degree. That we should have gone through so much only to have gained the same spot where another party several years before had arrived was too much for his equanimity. He vowed he would never go back, and nothing under heaven should turn him back, he would get on to the ridge. We might do as we liked, he meant to stay there until he had. All of which I pointed out to him was very fine talk, but, as men were at present constructed, it did not appear to me possible to climb an acute angle. Ambrose, however, persisted that he would make another attempt to get on to the ridge, and, as it was quite hopeless anywhere on the side by which we had ascended, he roped himself, and insisted on being let down the northern face of the mountain.

“With great skill he managed to work himself along the face for the full length of the rope, and the first 100 feet being exhausted, a second of 80 feet was tied to it, and this again paid out to its utmost length; still he could find no way up to the ridge. He thereupon demanded that the rope should be let go, and, in spite of our remonstrances at the danger he was running, he pulled it in, slung it on his back, and proceeded, while we sat down and waited with no little anxiety lest some accident should befall him.

“For half an hour we neither saw nor heard anything of him, and our shouts remained unanswered. Zurbrücken muttered at intervals something about ‘Dummheit,’ and was evidently very uneasy. Suddenly we heard a shout from above, which told us he had succeeded in ascending the wall above him, and getting on to the ridge, down which he was actually coming at the moment, and the next minute he was peering over the point where we had been stuck.

“It was really a magnificent exhibition both of pluck and skill, and Ambrose deserves the highest credit for his success. Letting the rope over, and fastening it well to a piece of rock, he first hauled up the ice axes and knapsacks, and then we each in turn were half hauled, and half climbed to the place where he stood. I know when I arrived at the top I was nearly speechless from the terrible exertion it was necessary to make, and the pressure of the rope on my ribs; I could only lie on my back and gasp feebly for brandy!

“However, it was imperative to proceed; more than two hours had been wasted here, and it was nearly eleven o’clock. The way in front of us looked fairly plain and easy, and our hopes once again began to rise; but soon, as we proceeded along the ridge, it became narrower and narrower, until from walking we were reduced to kneeling, and at last could only proceed à cheval; in this elegant position we struggled along for some little distance, until the arête widening out again permitted us once more to stand up; but here we found the rocks much more difficult, and finally absolutely impossible. At the foot of the peak at the easterly end of the ridge which I have before mentioned we were forced off the arête on to a wall of ice which led to the summit; the slope was at a very sharp angle, the ice very hard and blue, and at last became so steep that we were forced back on to the rocks, and with some considerable difficulty reached the summit; from there we could see the Silberhorn in front of us jutting out like a great white promontory into a frozen sea. It being then one o’clock, we saw there was no possibility of our getting back the same way that evening, so we made no sign to our porter, whom we could see watching us far down below.

“The formation of the ridge here is somewhat curious. After a slight descent it broadens out into a small and much crevassed glacier, shut in on the further side by a level snow wall, the promontory which I have mentioned above. The arête of this wall appears to run level from the rock ridge to its northern termination; indeed, I am of opinion that the highest point is on the rock ridge itself, and that the extreme end of the ridge facing the Wengern Alp is a few feet lower than the rocks overlooking the Roththal.

“We speedily crossed the little intervening glacier, or snow-field, and commenced to ascend diagonally the snow wall, but found the snow in such a dangerous condition, lying as it was loosely on the surface of ice, that from the fear of starting an avalanche we once more made our way back to the ridge which formed the continuation of the arête along which we had been climbing. Here the rocks were extremely difficult, being interspersed with ice and very rotten. I think this was one of the most difficult parts of the expedition. It was half-past three when we reached the final summit, and then made our way along the snow ridge nearly to its extremity. The snow arête was very narrow, and in its then condition not very pleasant to traverse; the day too was far advanced, and we had no time to spend in much exploration, so we returned as quickly as we could to the ridge which leads down to the Silberlücke; we were already getting very doubtful as to whether we should get any shelter for the night. We had reached the narrow rock arête joining the Silberhorn with the precipices of the Jungfrau; in the middle was the narrow gap called the Silberlücke, and to that we crawled down and halted a moment to consider whether it would not be better to descend on to the glacier and strike across to the Wengern Alp; but we knew from the results of previous expeditions that crossing the glacier would probably take four, if not five hours. None of us had ever been across it; it was then four o’clock, and it would be dark at six. Our only hope lay in getting across the Jungfrau before the daylight finally died out. In the gap we found a ladder left by some previous explorer, and two or three pieces of wood; and after debating whether we had not better pass the night there, finally decided to push on for the Jungfrau.

“Our chance of escaping a night in the open air depended mainly on two points: first, whether the snow leading to the Jungfrau was in fairly good condition; and, secondly, whether anybody whose steps we could make use of for descending had been on the mountain that day. A few minutes settled the first question; we found that the slopes leading up to the upper snow-field which circles round the base of the Jungfrau were hard as ice, and we were soon laboriously cutting steps upwards. We pushed on with all speed, but step-cutting is at the best a slow operation, and before we got into the Roththal track the lengthening shadows had almost overtaken us. We hurried on and managed to get across the bergschrund before the last rays of sunlight left the summit of the Jungfrau. As we surmounted the final rocks I turned for a minute to look across Switzerland, and was rewarded by one of the most beautiful spectacles it has ever been my good fortune to witness. The valleys were filled with mist, but the setting sun tinged their surface with a deep crimson glow; the last rays were still lingering round Mont Blanc and one or two of the higher mountains; where we stood was still filled with golden light from the last rays of the sinking sun. The sky was perfectly clear, and the panorama which unrolled itself before our eyes with its mingled light and shadow was one of the most wonderful that lover of mountain scenery could desire to gaze on. A justification for the erection of a hut on the summit of the Jungfrau might almost be found in the possibility of obtaining such a view.

“But we had no time for indulging in rhapsodies; a bitter north wind was still blowing so keenly, that the upper leather of our boots had frozen stiff as boards while we walked. The moon was well up, and if only our second hope were realised, and some one had been on the mountain that day, we might find a refuge from the wind in the Bergli or Concordia Huts. We tumbled rather than scrambled down the rocks by the flickering moonlight, until we reached the well-known point where it is necessary to strike across the face just above the Roththal Sattel. Our last hope was dashed to the ground. No one had been there that day, and if we were to get down it must be by our own efforts. So Ambrose at once set to work to cut steps across the face. We had been there a fortnight before, and gone up and down the Jungfrau without cutting hardly a step; now the face was all blue ice, and in five minutes I made up my mind that the risk of such a descent was too much to take.