CHAPTER V
THE GUIDES OF THE ALPS—(continued).
The fathers of modern mountaineering were undoubtedly the two great Oberland guides, Melchior Anderegg and Christian Almer, who commenced their careers more than half a century ago. The former is still with us, the latter passed away some two years ago, accomplishing with ease expeditions of first-rate importance till within a season or two of his death. Melchior began his climbing experiences when filling the humble duties of boots at the Grimsel Inn. He was sent to conduct parties to the glaciers, his master taking the fee, while Melchior's share was the pourboire. His aptitude for mountain craft was soon remarked by the travellers whom he accompanied, and in a lucky hour for him—and indeed for all concerned—he was regularly taken into the employ of Mr Walker and his family. At that time Melchior could speak only a little German in addition to his Oberland patois, and was quite unaccustomed to intercourse with English people. He was most anxious, however, to say the right thing, and thought he could not do better than copy the travellers, so Mr Walker was somewhat startled on finding himself addressed as "Pa-pa," while his children were greeted respectively as "Lucy" and "Horace." The friendship between Melchior and the surviving members of Mr Walker's family has lasted ever since, and is worthy of all concerned. Melchior was born a guide, as he was born a gentleman, and no one who has had the pleasure of his acquaintance can fail to be impressed by his tact and wonderful sweetness of disposition, which have enabled him to work smoothly and satisfactorily with other guides, who might well have felt some jealousy at his career of unbroken success.
Melchior's great rival and friend, Christian Almer, was of a more impetuous disposition, but none the less a man to be respected and liked for his sturdy uprightness and devotion to his employers. The romantic tale of his ascent of the Wetterhorn, which first brought him into notice, has been admirably told by Chief-Justice Wills in his "Wanderings among the High Alps." Mr Wills, as he then was, had set out from Grindelwald to attempt the ascent of the hitherto unclimbed Wetterhorn. He had with him the guides Lauener, Bohren, and Balmat. The former, a giant in strength and height, had determined to mark the ascent in a way there should be no mistaking, so, seeking out the blacksmith, he had a "Flagge," as he termed it, prepared, and with this upon his back, he joined the rest of the party. The "Flagge" was a sheet of iron, 3 feet long and 2 broad, with rings to attach it to a bar of the same metal 10 or 12 feet high, which he carried in his hand. "He pointed first to the 'Flagge,' and then, with an exulting look on high, set up a shout of triumph which made the rocks ring again."
The Wetterhorn is so well seen from Grindelwald that it was natural some jealousy should arise as to who should first gain the summit. At this time Christian Almer was a chamois hunter, and his fine climbing abilities had been well trained in that difficult sport. He heard of the expedition, and took his measures accordingly.
Meanwhile Mr Wills' party, having bivouacked on the mountain side, had advanced some way upwards towards their goal, and were taking a little rest. As they halted, "we were surprised," writes Mr Wills, "to behold two other figures, creeping along the dangerous ridge of rocks we had just passed. They were at some little distance from us, but we saw they were dressed in the guise of peasants."
Lauener exclaimed that they must be chamois hunters, but a moment's reflection showed them that no chamois hunter would come that way, and immediately after they noticed that one of them "carried on his back a young fir-tree, branches, leaves, and all." This young man was Christian Almer, and a fitting beginning it was to a great career.
"We had turned aside to take our refreshment," continues Mr Wills, "and while we were so occupied they passed us, and on our setting forth again, we saw them on the snow slopes, a good way ahead, making all the haste they could, and evidently determined to be the first at the summit."
The Chamonix guides were furious, declaring that no one at Chamonix would be capable of so mean an action, and threatening an attack if they met them. The Swiss guides also began to see the enormity of the offence. "A great shouting now took place between the two parties, the result of which was that the piratical adventurers promised to wait for us on the rocks above, whither we arrived very soon after them. They turned out to be two chamois hunters, who had heard of our intended ascent, and resolved to be even with us, and plant their tree side by side with our 'Flagge.' They had started very early in the morning, had crept up the precipices above the upper glacier of Grindelwald before it was light, had seen us soon after daybreak, followed on our trail, and hunted us down. Balmat's anger was soon appeased when he found they owned the reasonableness of his desire that they should not steal from us the distinction of being the first to scale that awful peak, and instead of administering the fisticuffs he had talked about, he declared they were 'bons enfants' after all, and presented them with a cake of chocolate; thus the pipe of peace was smoked, and tranquility reigned between the rival forces."
The two parties now moved upwards together, and eventually reached the steep final slope of snow so familiar to all who have been up the Wetterhorn. They could not tell what was above it, but they hoped and thought it might be the top.