Beyond the paths and the huts, there is a first law not to spoil the mountains: to leave no traces of meals on the summits or hillsides. Whoever discovers a portable contrivance for atomizing old bottles will confer an incalculable benefit upon conscientious mountaineers.
There is also an obligation not to spoil the mountains for others by heedless manners. This means not merely not to throw or kick stones on to other parties, or to pass them without their consent, which are matters that are regulated by positive mountaineering tradition, but also not to treat them ‘negatively’ when we meet them on the hills, as if we were all passers-by in the City at the luncheon-hour. I can call to mind still the annihilating stare of a lady whom I met on the top of the Weisshorn, because I ventured to remark about the weather without waiting for the introduction which there was no third party present in the vast panorama to perform; and again, two sterling Britons passing on a track in the highlands of Arcadia without greeting, because it transpired they did not feel that their slight degree of acquaintance was sufficient to cover a general conversation in which two other members of their parties, not similarly acquainted, would have had to be included! These are somewhat fine shades to preserve under primitive conditions, and foreigners are apt to misunderstand their respectable origin. It is better, on the whole, to be thought a cheerful idiot by our own countrymen if we hail their distant appearance on the chance of their belonging to a more sociable nationality, than to earn the reputation of racial surliness by allowing our shyness of what our own party may think to prevent us replying to the shouts of strangers of possibly more Gallic temperament. It costs little effort to make a cheerful remark to another party on the hills when we meet or pass them, and it saves an awkward restraint on both sides if we are fated to meet them afterwards again, in a hut or somewhere where we have to be together in harmony. In other countries we may safely imitate more demonstrative ways without loss of self-respect. A courteous manner and a ready explanation will take the edge of offence off many a decided course of mountaineering action, that may run us for a while beside or across the way of other human beings. It might even be better if we could introduce into our chance encounters on our own hills something more of a superficial cordiality, so as to acquire the habit of conveying to strangers less obscurely the undoubted fellowship we feel with all other pilgrims of the mountains.
Of course every leader must acquaint himself with the code of rescue signals now recognized in the mountains, by waving or flashing or shouting. But he should further consider it as more than discourteous to refrain from replying to any shout directed at himself or his party. It is impossible for him to know by instinct what is merely the salute of high spirits and what may express some more urgent need. Similarly, if one member of a party gets separated from the rest, and is out of sight, it is not sufficient for him merely to guide himself back secretly by their shouts; he should reply to each of their calls, and so indicate that he is approaching. It is oddly irritating to keep shouting for an unseen man, realizing that his silence may mean that he is getting more and more astray, and then see him walk round the next rock, reproving by his silent proximity both our growing anxiety and our clamorous waste of breath. Our co-Britons will never shout unnecessarily, and we should reply each time, and leave the interpretation to them.
Some Night Notes.
In using paths or tracks at night, if a light cannot be procured, it is worth while remembering that the instinct of the feet is often a better guide than the straining of the eyes to see. The feet, left to themselves, will balance naturally along the track, much as the original makers of the natural paths found it expedient to balance over the same ground. They will be able to keep the track better of themselves than if they are driven forward by an ill-balanced body along an ill-seen line. A leader following a track by daylight may often wonder in advance at small wanderings which seem to the eye unaccountable; but as soon as the body in balance reaches the spot, it follows their sequence quite naturally. Left to themselves, the feet and body will do much the same in the dark, and keep surprisingly well upon a track that is not arbitrarily interrupted.
In following a lamp, unless the leader holds it himself, his best place is not that immediately behind the lamp-bearer, which the selfish will press for. Detail and dim outline ahead are better seen from farther back in the line, where the actual glare of the lamp is hidden and the light is diffused over the way. The eye soon accustoms itself to half-light, but not to the dazzle of a flame.
(To procure light for a lamp, fire or pipe, especially in a wind, a familiar method may not be universally known. Part of the stern of a wax match should be unravelled and a few strands wound loosely round the head, so as to catch the first flare. To light a wood fire, in camp or hut, without paper, the wood should be shaved thinly upwards towards one end of a stick. The shavings should not be completely detached, but left curling up at the end like the flower on a stalk. Lit at this end, the stick easily burns and the fire follows.)
A compass and watch with radium points are always useful for all night hours or hut intervals.
If a path or track is lost in the dark, especially on snow-covered ground, the party should rope up at the full length of the rope, and make casts round the end man, who waits at a fixed point ’till it is, or may be, recovered. The motionless man at the fixed point acts as pointer for the original direction, and will prevent the complete loss of orientation in the circle of search.
In the dark on a track the increased risk from the axe-points before and behind us, as well as from our own, must be kept in mind, and extra intervals maintained.