“The wall above the great bergschrund was in shadow, the bergschrund last year was especially formidable, and we were all too exhausted safely to face the freezing wind on such a steep ice-slope in the dark. We returned, therefore, to the rocks, and, after a brief consultation, decided to pass the night there as best we could. We managed to find a corner shut in on two sides by rock about 5 feet high, from the floor of which we set to work to rake out the snow with our axes. The snow had drifted to a considerable depth, and its excavation gave us a good quantity of heat to start the night with, but our boots refused to thaw, and do what we would our feet would not get warm.
“Our provisions being nearly exhausted, we agreed only to take a mouthful of brandy and a little bread that night, and keep the bulk of the provisions until next morning, when we expected to be in a more or less exhausted condition, as the cold was very great, and it was obvious that we had a pretty severe ordeal before us. It was by this time half-past seven o’clock. We put on our gloves and gaiters, buttoned up our coats, and after making a seat apiece out of three smooth stones, sat down as close together as we could, and commenced to smoke.
“The night was beautifully clear, but far away to the south we could see a great thunderstorm raging over the Italian hills, and were in no little trepidation lest it should be coming up in our direction, as indeed a storm had done in exactly a similar way a week before; but the north wind kept it at bay, and we luckily had not a snow-storm to face in addition to the other discomforts.
“The night passed slowly enough; it was necessary to keep shuffling our feet and beating our arms together the whole night long without cessation, in order to prevent being frost-bitten, and it was even more difficult to keep awake. The hours, however, passed somehow, and at half-past four the first primrose streaks in the sky heralded the coming day. By five o’clock the welcome face of the sun peeped over the Trugberg, and we began to prepare for a start.
“Our first thought was breakfast, but this solace was denied us; the wine and brandy had frozen during the night, and were solid lumps of ice; the bread required nothing less than an ice-axe to cut it, and then probably would have flown into chips like a log of wood; the three remaining eggs we possessed had been converted during the night into icicles; there was nothing for it, therefore, but to start hungry and thirsty. Ambrose proposed that he and Zurbrücken should first cut the steps, and then come back for me, but after a very few minutes’ exposure to the wind they were obliged to return and wait until the sun had warmed them a little, the biting cold of the night and exhaustion from want of sleep rendered it impossible to face the work of step-cutting in such a bitter wind. We resumed our seats, therefore, and waited another hour, and then commenced our descent to the bergschrund. We had to cut steps the whole way down, and very glad I was we had not attempted it in the dark, as I think it would have been almost impossible to get over without an accident.
“We pushed on steadily, but the night had taken all the spurt out of us, and our progress across the Jungfrau Firn was not very rapid. We hoped to find water under the Mönch Joch, where we had found a good supply a fortnight previously, but the wind had prevented the snow melting at the time we reached the spot, and there was nothing for it but to press on to Grindelwald, and it was not until we reached the end of the Viescher Glacier that we found any water to drink. At the Bäregg we got some ginger nuts to eat, and by three o’clock in the afternoon were being hospitably welcomed by the Bosses at the ‘Bär,’ whose welcome was never more appreciated. These estimable hosts soon had an excellent dinner ready, and by half-past four I was driving to Interlaken to rejoin the rest of my party.”
CHAPTER XIV
THE STORY OF A BIG JUMP
THROUGH the kindness of Dr Kennedy, I am enabled to reprint from his new edition of The Alps in 1864, by the late Mr A. W. Moore, an admirable account of the first passage of the Col de la Pilatte in Dauphiné. This expedition has become classical, thanks to Mr Whymper’s fine description of it,[9] so it is interesting to read what impression the adventures of the day made on another member of the party. The first part of the expedition was easy, but, wrote Mr Moore, “before getting near the foot of the couloir, we had something to do in threading a way up and through the huge chasms into which the glacier was broken. Croz was here thoroughly in his element, and led the way with great skill and determination, passing one obstacle after another, and bearing gradually to the left towards the enemy. At every step we took, it became more apparent that nature had never intended any one to pass this way, and had accordingly taken more than usual pains to render the approach to the couloir difficult and dangerous. Below the highest bergschrund were a series of smaller ones, arranged systematically one above the other, stretching completely across a very steep slope, so that they could not be turned, but must each in succession be attacked en face. Fortunately at this early period of the season, and with so much snow, the difficulty was less considerable than it would have been under other circumstances, and, exercising every precaution, we finally passed the last of the outer lines of defence, and had nothing but a short steep slope between us and the final schrund, above which the couloir rose more unfriendly than ever, as we approached it nearer. I had been sorely puzzled in my mind how we were going to get across this chasm, as from below it appeared to have a uniform width of about 10 feet, the upper edge, as usual, much higher than the lower, and no visible bridge at any point. On getting up to it, however, we found that on the extreme right it had been choked by a considerable mass of snow, the small remains of which at one point formed a narrow, rotten, and most insecure bridge, over which Croz cautiously passed, and made himself firm in the soft snow above. Walker, Whymper, Mons. Renaud, myself, and Almer, then followed, as if we were treading on eggs, and all got safely over, much to our relief, as there really appeared no small chance of the bridge going to grief before we were all across, which would have been awkward for those on the wrong side.
“It was just 9.30 when we fairly took to this extraordinary gully, which, above the bergschrund was certainly not more than 12 feet wide, and gradually narrowed in its upward course. For the first few steps we trod in a sufficiency of soft snow in good condition, but, to our dismay, this soon sensibly diminished both in quantity and quality, until at last there was nothing but the old, disgusting, powdery snow resting on hard ice. The axe accordingly came into play; but if steps were cut of the ordinary size, we should never get to the top till night, so Croz just hacked out sufficient space for the feet to cling to, and worked away as fast as possible, cautioning us emphatically to look out, and to hold on well with our axes while each step was being cut. Another argument in favour of rapid progress arose from the palpable danger in which we were. The centre of the couloir was occupied by a deeply-scored trough, evidently a channel for stones and avalanches, while the space on either side was so narrow that in case of a large fall we could scarcely expect to escape unharmed. Looking up to see what was likely to come down, we discovered at the very head of the couloir a perpendicular or slightly overhanging wall of névé, some 30 feet in height, and lower down, projecting over the rocks on our left, an enormous mass of icicles, on which the sun was playing, and, of course, momentarily loosening their tenure to the rocks. At the moment we were exactly in the line which they must follow, if they fell, as they evidently would before long, so we lost no time in crossing the stone channel to the other side, where the great mass was scarcely likely to come, and we might probably ward off any stray fragments. I received a lively hint as to the effect of a large mass of ice coming suddenly down on one’s head, by the effect of a blow from a comparatively small piece, which Croz hewed out from one of the steps. Being so far down in the line, it had time to gain momentum before it struck me, which it did on the head with such violence that for a few moments I felt quite sick and stupid. The incident will give a very good idea of the steepness of the slope on which we were. I had too much to think of to measure it with a clinometer, but it was certainly steeper than any part of the couloir leading to the Col des Ecrins, the greatest inclination of which was 54°. At one point a little water trickled over the rocks, which the two front men managed to get a suck at, but those behind were out of reach, and the footing was too precarious for more than a minute’s halt, not to mention occasional volleys of small stones which shot by us, and might be the precursors of large ones. I don’t think that I ever experienced a greater feeling of insecurity than during the whole of this ascent, which was unavoidably long. What with the extreme steepness of the slope, and the necessary vagueness of the steps, which were made additionally unsafe by the powdery snow which filled them up as soon as they were cut, I felt that a slip was a by no means unlikely contingency, and was glad enough upon occasions to find Almer’s hand behind, giving me a friendly push whenever a particularly long stride had to be made. When we were nearing the top, our attention was attracted by a tremendous uproar behind us, and, looking round, we were just in time to see a prodigious avalanche falling over the cliffs of the Pic de Bonvoisin, on the other side of the valley. It was at least a quarter of a mile in length, and many minutes elapsed before the last echoes of its fall died away. We were now so near the great snow-wall that it was time to begin to circumvent it; so, crossing the couloir again, we clambered up the rocks on that side in order to get out of it, hoping to be able from them to get on to the main ridge to the left of the wall, which itself was quite impassable. As Almer had expected, the snow was here very thin over the rocks, and what little there was, was converted into ice, so that the climbing was most difficult and perilous, and we had no small trouble to get on at all. However, we managed to scramble up, and found ourselves overlooking a gully running parallel, and of a similar character, to the one we had been ascending, but free from snow and ice, and much more precipitous. On our side it was quite impossible to get on to the main ridge as an impracticable rock rose above our heads, and it was, therefore, necessary to step across this second couloir. I never made a nastier step; the stride was exceedingly long, there was nothing in particular to stand on, and nothing at all but a smooth face of rock to hold on by, so that we had literally to trust to the natural adhesiveness of our hands. Fortunately, there was sufficient rope to allow the man in front to cross and get on to the main ridge, and make himself fast before his successor followed, so we attacked the difficulty in turn. I got over somehow, but did not like it at all; lifted myself on to the ridge, Almer followed, and at 10.45 A.M., the Col was gained.
“During our ascent of the couloir, the weather, though doubtful, had not been unfavourable, but, just as we got on to the ridge, a cloud swooped down, and enveloped us in its dense folds, and at the same moment it began to snow violently. Luckily Croz, who was first on the top, had been able to satisfy himself that we were above the Glacier de la Pilatte, and got a glimpse of what lay between us and it; but the state of the atmosphere was, nevertheless, sufficiently disappointing, as we were unable to fix with accuracy the exact position of our gap with reference to the peak of Les Bans, and the highest point of the Boeufs Rouges, or to determine its height. From the Brèche de la Meije, we had seen clearly that we were then considerably lower than any point on the ridge south of the Glacier de la Pilatte, and, taking this into consideration, together with the apparent height of our gap, seen from the valley below, we estimated the height of the Col, which we proposed to call Col de la Pilatte, at about 11,500 feet. It is certainly not much below this, and is, therefore, probably the highest pass yet effected in the Dauphiné Alps.