“It was no less provoking to have missed the view of the Ecrins and Ailefroide, which we had expected to be particularly fine. But there was no help for it, and no prospect of immediate improvement; so, without halting for a minute, we commenced the descent in the same order as before. All we could see was a steep ice-wall, stretching downwards from our feet, the actual ridge not being more than a couple of feet wide. What was the length of the wall, or what lay below it, we could not discover, but had a shrewd suspicion that we should anyhow find a considerable bergschrund. Croz steered to the left, and began cutting steps diagonally downwards. The snow was in a much worse condition than it had been in the couloir; there was more of it, but it was so exceedingly soft, that our feet pressed through it to the hard ice, as though it had been water, and we were very rarely able to trust to it without cutting a step. We should have been better pleased had there been no snow at all, as the whole slope, the angle of which was about 50°, was in just the proper condition for an avalanche. I never saw Almer so nervous, and with reason; for, as he himself said, while he implored us not to move from one step into another before we felt that one foot at least was secured, this was just one of those places where no amount of skill on the part of Croz or himself could entirely prevent the chance of a serious accident. It was a wonder how we did manage to stick to some of the steps, the objectionable character of which was increased from their being cut along the side of the slope, a position in which it is always more difficult to get from one to the other than when they are cut straight up or down. As we got lower down there was more snow, which, though softer than ever, was so steep that we could tread tolerably secure steps on it, by help of which we worked down, until we found ourselves brought up short on the upper edge of the expected bergschrund. Croz had hoped to hit this at a point where it was partially choked, but he was disappointed, as the chasm yawned below us, entirely unbridged. A glance right and left showed that there was no more assailable point within reach, so Croz gave out the unwelcome intelligence that if we wished to get over we must jump and take our chance. The obstacle appeared to be about 10 feet wide, of uncomfortable depth, and the drop from the upper to the lower edge about 15 feet. From the lower edge the glacier sloped away, only less steep than the wall on which we were, of which it was a continuation, but cut off by this sudden break. There was, however, so much soft snow that we should fall easy, and the only difficulty, therefore, was to take a sufficiently fair spring to clear the chasm; for, good as I believed my rope to be, I should have been sorry to see any one suspended by it, with a sudden jerk, over such a gulf as that we had beneath us. Walker was untied, so as to give rope enough to Croz, who then boldly sprung over, and landed heavily on the lower edge in the snow, where he stood to receive the rest of the party. Walker followed, and then Whymper, leaving Mons. Renaud, myself, and Almer above. Mons. Renaud advanced to the edge, looked, hesitated, drew back, and finally declared that he could not jump it; he felt perfectly convinced that he should be unable to clear the distance, and should jump in instead of over. We encouraged him, but without effect, and at last proposed to lower him down, when the others would hook hold of his legs somehow and pull him across. Almer and I, therefore, made our footing as secure as possible, anchored ourselves with our axes, and made all ready to lower our friend, but his courage failed him at the last moment, and he refused to go. We were now obliged to use stronger arguments, as it was snowing fast, and time was passing, so we pointed out that, if we wished to return ever so much, we could not get the others back across the schrund, and that, in point of fact, there was no chance—over he must go. Again did he advance to the edge, again draw back, but finally, with a despairing groan, leaped, and just landed clear of the chasm, but, instead of letting his rope hang loose, he held it in one hand, and thereby nearly pulled me over head foremost. Then came my turn, and I must confess that, when I stood in the last step from which I had to spring, I did not like the look of the place at all, and, in fact, felt undeniably nervous. But I had not been one of the least backward in objurgating Mons. Renaud, so felt constrained to manifest no hesitation myself, whatever might be my private feelings. I, therefore, threw over my axe and spectacles, gathered myself up, and took the leap. The sensation was most peculiar. I had not the faintest idea whether I should or should not clear the chasm, but the doubt was soon solved by my landing heavily on the further side, rather to the right of the rest of the party. The heavy load on my back sent me forwards on my face, and I shot down the slope with tremendous velocity, head foremost, until I was suddenly stopped by the tightening round my waist of the rope, the other end of which was held by Almer above. My first impression was, that half my ribs were crushed in; as it was, my wind was so completely bagged by the severity of the jerk that I could not speak, but laughed hysterically, until nature’s bellows had replenished my unlucky carcass. The incident was so far satisfactory that it showed the enormous strength of the rope, and also how severe a shock a man like Almer, standing in a most insecure position, can bear unmoved when he is prepared for it. My weight, unloaded, is 10½ stone, and the strain on the rope was certainly nearly as great as though I had jumped into the crevasse. Almer now followed us over, and at 11.35 we were all together without accident below the schrund, which, with the wall above it, was as ugly-looking a place as I would wish to see.
“We now floundered down the slope of soft snow, without taking much care, as we imagined that henceforward it was all plain sailing, but were abruptly checked in our pace by coming upon a huge crevasse, of great length and breadth, but covered over in places. Several attempts were made to cross at one of these points, but without success, as the breadth was too great, and the snow unsubstantial in the extreme, and a long détour was necessary before we were able to get over near its eastern extremity. This proved to be the beginning of a new series of troubles, as the chasms became more and more numerous and complicated, until the slope which we had imagined would be so easy, resolved itself into a wall of gigantic séracs, the passage of which tasked our energies to the utmost. The difficulty of the position was increased by our still being enveloped in a mist so thick that we could not see a distance of 20 feet below us, and were in a happy state of ignorance as to whether we were steering properly, or were only plunging deeper into the mire. Nothing, however, could exceed the energy and skill with which Croz threaded his way through the labyrinth which surrounded us. He never once had to retrace his steps, but, cutting along the sides of some crevasses and underneath others, he steadily gained ground. In spite of the generally deep snow, a good deal of step-cutting was necessary here and there, and we had nearly an hour of most exciting work before the inclination of the glacier diminished, and at 12.30 P.M., for the first time since leaving the Col, we stood at ease upon a flat plain of snow. But how long would it last? A fog on an unknown glacier always suggests to my desponding mind the probability of marching round and round in a circle, and finally having to pass the night in a crevasse, so that I, personally, was particularly relieved when, just as we emerged from the séracs, the mist suddenly lifted sufficiently to let us see a long way over the glacier in front, which displayed itself to our admiring eyes perfectly level and uncrevassed.”