"In returning to the Col after his fruitless exploration, almost certain that he had lost his way, he saw among some débris of rock, an empty bottle (which had been placed there by Messrs George and Moore in 1862). This discovery persuaded him that here must be the pass, since some one in passing by the place had there deposited this bottle. He then applied himself to examining with greater attention the rocks below, and thought he saw a possibility of descending by them. He proposed this to the ladies, and they immediately commenced operations. All being tied together, at proper intervals, with a strong rope, they began the perilous descent, sometimes over the naked rock, sometimes over more or less extensive slopes of ice, covered with a light stratum of snow, in which steps had to be cut. It was often necessary to stop, in order to descend one after the other by means of the rope to a point where it might be possible to rest without being held up. The tremendous precipice was all this time under their eyes, seeming only to increase as they descended. This arduous and perilous exertion had continued for more than seven hours when, towards 6 P.M., the party arrived at a point beyond which all egress seemed closed. Slippery and almost perpendicular rocks beneath, right and left, and everywhere; near and around not a space sufficient to stretch one's self upon, the sun about to set, night at hand! What a position for the courageous travellers, and for the poor guide on whom devolved the responsibility of the fatal consequences which appeared inevitable!
"Nevertheless, Jean Martin did not lose his courage. Having caused the ladies to rest on the rocks, he ran right and left, climbing as well as he could, in search of a passage. For about half an hour he looked and felt for a way, but in vain. At length it appeared to him that it would be possible to risk a long descent by some rough projections which occurred here and there in the rocks. With indescribable labour, and at imminent peril of rolling as shapeless corpses into the crevasses of the glacier below, the travellers at length set foot upon the ice. It was 8 P.M.; they had commenced the descent at 11 A.M.; they crossed the Sesia Glacier at a running pace, on account of the increasing darkness of the night, which scarcely allowed them to distinguish the crevasses. After half an hour they set foot on terra firma at the moraine above the Alp of Vigne, where they perceived at no great distance a light, towards which they quickly directed their steps. The shepherd, named Dazza Dionigi, received them kindly, and lodged them for the night. Until they arrived at the Alp, both the ladies and the guide believed that they had made the pass of the Lys-Joch, and that they were now upon an Alp of Gressonay. It was, therefore, not without astonishment that they learned from the shepherd that, instead of this, they were at the head of the Val Sesia, and that they had accomplished the descent of the formidable Sesia-Joch."
Exterior of a Climber's Hut.
Interior of a Climber's Hut.
As an accompaniment to the foregoing highly-coloured narrative, the following modest notes, sent to The Alpine Journal by the Misses Pigeon, will be read with interest:
"All mountaineers are aware how much the difficulty of a pass is lessened or increased by the state of the weather. In this we were greatly favoured. For some days it had been very cold and wet at the Riffel; and when we crossed the Sesia-Joch we found sufficient snow in descending the ice-slope to give foothold, which decreased the labour of cutting steps—the axe was only brought into requisition whenever we traversed to right or left. Had the weather been very hot we should have been troubled with rolling stones. It was one of those clear, bright mornings so favourable for mountain excursions. Our guide had only once before crossed the Lys-Joch, four years previously, and on a very misty day. We were, therefore, careful to engage a porter who professed to know the way. The latter proved of no use whatever except to carry a knapsack.
"We take the blame to ourselves of missing the Lys-Joch; for, on making the discovery of the porter's ignorance, we turned to Ball's Guide Book, and repeatedly translated to Martin a passage we found there, warning travellers to avoid keeping too much to the right near the Lyskamm. The result of our interference was that Martin kept too much to the left, and missed the Lys-Joch altogether.