Read Ebook: True Tales of Mountain Adventures: For Non-Climbers Young and Old by Le Blond Aubrey Mrs

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 344 lines and 37016 words, and 7 pages

"This ledge is about 3 feet broad. We had got down the only place on the mountain that had given us any anxiety. It was warm and pleasant; all the day was before us; so we took more than an hour to lunch and rest.

"On starting again we ought to have stuck to our old route and descended by the slabs, as we could easily have done; but after a brief discussion we arranged to take a short cut, by fixing a second rope and letting ourselves straight down the drop on to the lower slanting ledge, at a point a few feet higher than where we had left it on the ascent.

"We descended one at a time, as before, and, what with tying and untying, took much longer than we should have done had we gone the other way. On gaining the ledge we turned to our left and soon came across one of our marks; then striking down sooner than our old route would have taken us, we gave a wider berth to the falling ice, and got into the traverse leading to the top of the buttress. Along it we went; but it looked different, had less snow, and when we came near the end a steep rock, with a nasty drop below, blocked the way. It appeared so bad that I said we were wrong. As the others were not sure, we retraced our steps, and by a very difficult descent gained a lower ledge. There was no snow on this, but the melting of the snow above made the rocks we had to take hold of so wet that we often got a stream of water down our arms and necks.

"At last, after nearly crossing, it became quite impossible, and we turned back, having gained nothing but a wetting.

"Below it was far too steep. Immediately above was the place we had tried just before. We could not make it out; we had been so positive about the place above.

"We were just thinking of trying it again more carefully, when Lawrence pointed up at something, and there, sure enough, was the bit of red rag left the day before to show the commencement of the traverse.

"We marked where it was, and then crawled back along the ledge on which we were. Scrambling up the steep drop, we made quickly upwards, and, turning towards our flag, found that the only way to it was along the very ledge where we had first tried, and which proved to be the traverse after all.

"We were very glad to get into it once more, as for the last three hours we had been on the look-out for falling ice. Some had already shot over our heads, sending showers of splinters on to us, and one piece as big as one's fist had come rather closer than was pleasant. On our left, the Glacier Carr? kept up a regular fire of it, the ice following with tremendous noise on to the rocks below. Every time it gave us a start, as we could not always see at once where the fall had taken place; and although the danger was more imaginary than real, it is not pleasant to be constantly on the look-out, and flattening one's self against the rocks to avoid being hit.

"We thought we had only two hours more easy descent, and our work would be done. But we made a mistake.

"At first we went rapidly down, and were soon cheered by the sight of M. Duhamel's cairn, looking about five minutes off. I was in front at the time, and was just getting on to a short snow-slope by which we had ascended the day before, when, doubting its safety, I asked the others to hold fast whilst I tried it. The moment I put my foot on the snow, all the top went away, slowly at first, then, taking to the left, went down the couloir with a rush. We tried again where the upper layer had gone away, but it was all unsafe; so we had to spend half an hour getting down the rocks, where we had ascended in ten minutes, and it was not until 2.30 that we reached the cairn.

"It was 3.30 before we continued the descent. The couloir was not in good order and required care. Gardiner, who was in front, did not get on as well as usual. At last, thinking we might get impatient, he showed us his fingers, which were bleeding in several places, and awfully raw and sore. He had pluckily kept it all to himself until the real difficulties were over; but the snow of the couloir had softened his hands, and these last rocks were weathered granite, and very sharp and cutting; so he had to go very gingerly.

"At the bottom of the buttress a surprise awaited us, for as we descended the last 20 feet, the weather-beaten face of old Lagier, our porter, appeared above the rocks. The faithful old fellow said he had traced our descent by the occasional flashing of the wine tin in the sun, and had come alone to meet us, bringing us provisions as he thought we might have run short. He had waited six hours for us, and had iced the bottle of champagne which had been left on the ascent. We opened it and then hurried down to the glacier, taking off the rope at the moraine, and ran all the rest of the way on the snow to our bivouac, like a lot of colts turned loose in a field, feeling it a great relief to get on to something on which we could tumble about as we liked without falling over a precipice."

That the Meije is a really difficult mountain may be assumed from the fact that for some years after its first ascent, no party succeeded in getting up and down it on the same day. When every step of the way became well known, of course much quicker times were possible, and when, on 16th September 1892, I went up it with the famous Dauphin? guide, Maximin Gaspard, and Roman Imboden , we had all in our favour. There was neither ice nor snow on the rocks, and no icicles hung from the Glacier Carr?, while the weather was still and cloudless. We slept at the bottom of the buttress--just at the spot where Mr Pilkington met his porter--and from here were exactly four hours reaching the top of the Meije.

It is now the fashion to cross the Meije from La B?rarde to La Grave, the descent on the other side being also extremely hard. For a couple of hours after leaving the summit a narrow ridge is traversed with several formidable gaps in it.

FOOTNOTE:

The remains of this rope hung for years where Mr Pilkington had placed it, and when I ascended the Meije I saw the bleached end of it hanging over as sickening looking a place as I have ever desired to avoid. The ordinary route passes more to the west.

THE PIZ SCERSCEN TWICE IN FOUR DAYS--THE FIRST ASCENT OF MONT BLANC BY A WOMAN.

It was a mad thing to do. I realised that when thinking of it afterwards; but this is how it happened.

I had arranged with a friend, Mr Edmund Garwood, to try a hitherto unattempted route on a mountain not far from Maloja. He was to bring his guide, young Roman Imboden; I was to furnish a second man, Wieland, of St Moritz.

The hour had come to start, the carriage was at the door and the provisions were in it, and Wieland and I were in readiness when, to our surprise, Roman turned up without Mr Garwood. A note which he brought explained that the latter was not well, but hoped I would make the expedition all the same, and take Roman with me. I was unwilling to monopolise a new ascent, though probably only an easy one, so I refused to go till my friend was better, and asked the guides to suggest something else. The weather was lovely and our food ready, and it seemed a pity to waste either.

Wieland could not think of a suitable climb, so I turned to Roman, who had only arrived at Pontresina two days before, and asked him his ideas.

He very sensibly inquired: "What peaks have you not done yet here, ma'am?"

"All but the Scerscen."

"Then we go for the--whatever you call it."

"Oh, but Roman," I exclaimed, "the Scerscen is very difficult, and there is 3 feet of fresh snow on the mountains, and it is out of the question!"

"I don't believe any of these mountains are difficult," said Roman doggedly, with that contempt for all Engadine climbing shown by guides from the other side of Switzerland.

"Ask Wieland," I suggested.

Wieland smiled at the question, and said he did not at all mind going to look at the Scerscen, but, as to ascending it under the present conditions, of course it was absurd.

"Besides," he added, "we are much too late to go to the Marinelli Hut to-day."

"Why not do it from the Mortel Hut?" I remarked, on the "in for a penny in for a pound" principle.

He smiled again; indeed, I think he laughed, and agreed that, as anyhow we could not go up the Scerscen, we might as well sleep at the Mortel Hut as anywhere else.

"Have you ever been up it?" Roman inquired.

Wieland answered that he had not. Roman turned to me: "Can you find the mountain? Should you know it if you saw it? Don't let us go up the wrong one, ma'am!"

I promised to lead them to the foot of the peak, and Roman repeated his conviction that all Engadine mountains were perfectly easy, and that we should find ourselves on the top of the Scerscen next morning. However, he made no objection to taking an extra rope of 100 feet, and, telling one friend our plan in strictest confidence, we climbed into the carriage.

We duly arrived at the Mortel Hut and were early in bed, as Roman wished us to set out at an early hour, or a late one, if I may thus allude to 11 P.M. He was still firmly convinced that to the top of the Scerscen we should go, and wanted every moment in hand, in spite of his recent criticisms of Engadine mountains. There was a very useful moon, and by its light we promised Roman to take him to the foot of the peak, where its rocky sides rise abruptly from the Scerscen Glacier.

We were off punctually at 11 P.M., and by the brilliant light of the moon made good time over the glacier and up the snow slopes leading to the Sella Pass. This we reached in three hours, without a pause, from the hut, and, making no halt there, immediately plunged into the softer snow on the Italian side, and began to skirt the precipices on our left. Even in midsummer, it was still dark at this early hour, and the moon had already set. A great rocky peak rose near us, and Wieland gave it as his opinion that it was the Scerscen. I differed from him, believing our mountain to be some distance farther, so it was mutually agreed that we should halt for food, after which we should have more light to enable us to determine our position.

Our second ascent of Piz Scerscen is soon told.

Four days later Roman casually remarked to me: "It is a pity, ma'am, we have not crossed the Scerscen to the Bernina."

"It is," I replied. "Let us start at once and do it."

Wieland was consulted, and was only too delighted to go anywhere under Roman's leadership. Our times will give an idea of the changed state of the mountain, for, leaving the Mortel Hut at 12.30 midnight, we were on the top of the Scerscen at 8 A.M. At nine we set off, and taking things leisurely, with halts for food, we passed along the famous ar?te, and, thanks to Roman's choice of route, met with not one really hard step. At 2.30 P.M. we found ourselves on the top of Piz Bernina, and had a chat with another party, who had arrived not long before. I waited to see them start, and rejoiced that I had kept two plates. Then we, too, set forth, and were in the valley by 7 P.M.

THE FIRST ASCENT OF MONT BLANC BY A WOMAN, AND SOME SUBSEQUENT ASCENTS

The first woman who reached the summit of Mont Blanc was a native of Chamonix, Maria Paradis by name. Her account of her expedition is so admirably graphic and picturesque that I shall give a translation of it as like the original as I can. Though it was so far back as the year 1809, Maria writes quite in the spirit of modern journalism.

She begins:--"I was only a poor servant. One day the guides said to me, 'We are going up there, come with us. Travellers will come and see you afterwards and give you presents.' That decided me, and I set out with them. When I reached the Grand Plateau I could not walk any longer. I felt very ill, and I lay down on the snow. I panted like a chicken in the heat. They held me up by my arms on each side and dragged me along. But at the Rochers-Rouge I could get no further, and I said to them 'Chuck me into a crevasse and go on yourselves.'

"'You must go to the top,' answered the guides. They seized hold of me, they dragged me, they pushed me, they carried me, and at last we arrived. Once at the summit, I could see nothing clearly, I could not breathe, I could not speak."

Maria was thirty years of age, and made quite a fortune out of her achievement. From that time, tourists returning from Mont Blanc noticed with surprise, as they passed through the pine woods, a feast spread out under the shade of a huge tree. Cream, fruit, etc., were tastefully displayed on the white cloth. A neat-looking peasant woman urged them to partake. "It is Maria of Mont Blanc!" the guides would cry, and the travellers halted to hear the story of her ascent and to refresh themselves.

As she approached the top she felt better, and was able to advance without support, and when she stepped on to the summit, and knew that her great wish was at last accomplished, all sensation of illness vanished as if by enchantment.

"And now, mademoiselle, you shall go higher than Mont Blanc!" exclaimed the guides, and joining hands they lifted her above their shoulders.

One more ascent by a lady deserves mention here, that of Miss Stratton, on 31st January 1876. She was the first person to reach the summit of Mont Blanc in mid-winter.

It is difficult to understand why these early climbers of Mont Blanc, men as well as women, suffered so terribly from mountain sickness, a disease one rarely hears of nowadays in the Alps. The question is too vexed a one for me to discuss it here, but I may say that want of training and unsuitable food bring it on in most cases. "The stagnation of the air in valleys above the snow-line," was believed to produce it, and I cannot help thinking that this does have some effect. The first time I went up Mont Blanc I did not feel well on the Grand Plateau, but was all right when I reached the breezy ridge of the Bosses. The second time, ascending by the route on the Italian side of the peak, where there are no snowy valleys, I did not suffer at all. The third time I felt uncomfortable on the slope leading to the Corridor, but quite myself again above.

THE ASCENT OF A WALL OF ICE

"We were now standing on the edge of a small level plateau. One, and only one, gigantic crevasse of really surpassing beauty stretched right across it. This was, we guessed, some 300 feet deep, and its sides passed gradually into the lovely blues and greens of semi-transparent ice, whilst long rows and clusters of huge icicles imitated the carvings and ecclesiastical furniture of some great cathedral.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet