‘The musical gatherings in the evenings seem now to lack one voice, and nought but sadness can be left for many of those who remember companionships which can never be replaced.’
CHAPTER III
THE LAST SEASON IN THE ALPS
I come now to the last season in the Alps, the season of 1899. The first part of his holiday was spent at Zermatt, and then he and Hill met by arrangement at the Kurhaus at Arolla. They soon got to work, beginning with the two Dents de Veisivi (the scene of the accident to the Hopkinsons the previous year) and the Dent Perroc, in twelve hours from the Kurhaus and back. Then followed the Aiguille de la Za by the face, a traverse of all the peaks of the Aiguilles Rouges, Mont Blanc de Seilon and the Pigne d’Arolla in one day, the Dent des Bouquetins, and the traverse of Mont Collon. A slight accident to one of the party of which I was a member, necessitated an unexpected descent on the evening of August 26th to Arolla, in the hope of finding a doctor. There was none there, but we found many friends and acquaintances, among them being Owen Jones. On the morning of Sunday 27th, our party left for Evolena just after breakfast, as we heard there was a German doctor there, and we wanted our wounded member attended to without delay. Just as we were starting we found Jones and Hill leaving also, intending to traverse the Dent Blanche, climbing it by the west arête, which had only been done twice before, and we all hoped shortly to meet again in Zermatt.
It was a bright sunny morning, hot and dusty. For a good part of the way from Arolla to Haudères I chatted to Jones. We did not go very fast on account of the damaged member of our party, about whom Jones was very solicitous. He himself seemed very fit, and was full of life and enthusiasm for his favourite passion. He chatted freely of all his climbs, of our first meeting nine years before, of all that had happened since, of frostbite on the Dom, and the remedy—sticking his fingers into boiling glue—worse than the disease. His traverse of the ice arête between the two peaks of the Lyskamm and his Easter ascent of the Dent Blanche seemed to me to have made the deepest impression on him of all his achievements in the mountains. He was rather inclined to underrate his wonderful rock-work in North Wales and in the Lake District, a department in which, in my opinion, he was really greatest, though his feats of endurance in the Alps were something off the common. He told me that his ambitions inclined towards a tour in the Himalayas, if circumstances allowed of his realising that dream.
At Haudères we parted company. Hill and Jones, with their guides, who met them at Haudères, turned up to Ferpècle; we went on to Evolena. If my friend’s health permitted, I had arranged to see Jones in Zermatt on Tuesday afternoon. Difficult as was the expedition he was undertaking, the awful reality of the morrow never crossed my mind even as a possibility. A stronger or more well-equipped party I had never seen start on an expedition. It was about 12-30 when we all said good-bye.
At Evolena the doctor ordered our invalid a day or two of complete rest. So on Monday morning the third member of our party, with his guide, started for the Col de la Meina to return to his wife, whom he had left in the Val des Bagnes, from which we had come. For the sake of the walk I accompanied them to the top of the Col. About 9-15, just before we lost sight of the west arête of the Dent Blanche, I searched the arête with my field glasses to see if any trace of Jones and Hill’s party could be detected. None of us could see anything, so we concluded, as the mountain was in very good condition, that they had probably already got to the top, and were then descending by the south arête. But they were still on the arête, though we failed to see them on the dark rocks. Had it been three-quarters of an hour later we might actually have been witnesses of the accident.
On the top of the Col de la Meina we were caught by a storm of mist and rain, blowing up from the west. I bade adieu to my friends and hastened back to Evolena. That was the mist which caught Mr. Hill on the gendarme in his descent after the accident and detained him 22 hours alone on the great mountain.
But of the accident no one dreamed. No premonition, no presentiment, troubled our thoughts. Monday and Tuesday passed quietly and uneventfully for us.
On Wednesday morning my friend got permission from his doctor to walk up to Arolla for lunch. We gladly availed ourselves of the new freedom.