Part 1 (1/2)
The Ascent of the Matterhorn.
by Edward Whymper.
PREFACE.
In the year 1860, shortly before leaving England for a long continental tour, the late Mr. William Longman requested me to make for him some sketches of the great Alpine peaks. At this time I had only a literary acquaintance with mountaineering, and had even not seen-much less set foot upon-a mountain. Amongst the peaks which were upon my list was Mont Pelvoux, in Dauphine. The sketches that were required of it were to celebrate the triumph of some Englishmen who intended to make its ascent.
They came-they saw-but they did not conquer. By a mere chance I fell in with a very agreeable Frenchman who accompanied this party, and was pressed by him to return to the a.s.sault. In 1861 we did so, with my friend Macdonald-and we conquered. This was the origin of my scrambles amongst the Alps.
The ascent of Mont Pelvoux (including the disagreeables) was a very delightful scramble. The mountain air did _not_ act as an emetic; the sky did _not_ look black, instead of blue; nor did I feel tempted to throw myself over precipices. I hastened to enlarge my experience, and went to the Matterhorn. I was urged towards Mont Pelvoux by those mysterious impulses which cause men to peer into the unknown. Not only was this mountain reputed to be the highest in France, and on that account was worthy of attention, but it was the dominating point of a most picturesque district of the greatest interest, which, to this day, remains almost unexplored! The Matterhorn attracted me simply by its grandeur. It was considered to be the most thoroughly inaccessible of all mountains, even by those who ought to have known better. Stimulated to make fresh exertions by one repulse after another, I returned, year after year, as I had opportunity, more and more determined to find a way up it, or to _prove_ it to be really inaccessible.
The chief part of this volume is occupied by the history of these attacks on the Matterhorn, and the other excursions that are described have all some connection, more or less remote, with that mountain or with Mont Pelvoux. All are new excursions (that is, excursions made for the first time), unless the contrary is pointed out. Some have been pa.s.sed over very briefly, and entire ascents or descents have been disposed of in a single line. Generally speaking, the salient points alone have been dwelt upon, and the rest has been left to the imagination. This treatment has spared the reader from much useless repet.i.tion.
In endeavouring to make the book of some use to those who may wish to go mountain-scrambling, whether in the Alps or elsewhere, prominence has been given to our mistakes and failures; and to some it may seem that our practice must have been bad if the principles which are laid down are sound, or that the principles must be unsound if the practice was good.
The principles which are brought under the notice of the reader are, however, deduced from long experience, which experience had not been gained at the time that the blunders were perpetrated; and, if it had been acquired at an earlier date, there would have been fewer failures to record.
My scrambles amongst the Alps were a sort of apprentices.h.i.+p in the art of mountaineering, and they were, for the most part, carried out in the company of men who were masters of their craft. In any art the learner, who wishes to do good work, does well to a.s.sociate himself with master workmen, and I attribute much of the success which is recorded in this volume to my having been frequently under the guidance of the best mountaineers of the time. The hints and observations which are dispersed throughout the volume are not the result of personal experience only, they have been frequently derived from professional mountaineers, who have studied the art from their youth upwards.
Without being unduly discursive in the narrative, it has not been possible to include in the text all the observations which are desirable for the general reader, and a certain amount of elementary knowledge has been pre-supposed, which perhaps some do not possess; and the opportunity is now taken of making a few remarks which may serve to elucidate those which follow.
When a man who is not a born mountaineer gets upon the side of a mountain, he speedily finds out that walking is an art; and very soon wishes that he could be a quadruped or a centipede, or anything except a biped; but, as there is a difficulty in satisfying these very natural desires, he ultimately procures an alpenstock and turns himself into a tripod. This simple implement is invaluable to the mountaineer, and when he is parted from it involuntarily (and who has not been?) he is inclined to say, just as one may remark of other friends, ”You were only a stick-a poor stick-but you were a true friend, and I should like to be in your company again.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: Point of Alpenstock]
Respecting the size of the alpenstock, let it be remarked that it may be nearly useless if it be too long or too short. It should always be shorter than the person who carries it, but it may be any length you like between three-fifths of your height and your extreme alt.i.tude. It should be made of ash, of the very best quality; and should support your weight upon its centre when it is suspended at its two ends. Unless shod with an iron point it can scarcely be termed an alpenstock, and the nature of the point is of some importance. The kind I prefer is shown in the annexed ill.u.s.tration. It has a long tang running into the wood, is supported by a rivetted collar, and its termination is extremely sharp. With a point of this description steps can be made in ice almost as readily as with an axe.
A volume might be written upon the use of the alpenstock. Its princ.i.p.al use is as a third leg, to extend one's base line; and when the beginner gets this well into his head he finds the implement of extraordinary value. In these latter times the pure and simple alpenstock has gone out of fas.h.i.+on, and mountaineers now almost universally carry a stick with a point at one end and an axe-head at the other. A moveable axe-head is still a desideratum. There is a pick-axe made at Birmingham with a moveable head which is better than any other kind that I have seen, but the head is too clumsy to be held in the hand, and various improvements will have to be effected in it before it will be fit for use in mountaineering. Still, its principle appears to me to be capable of adaptation, and on that account I have introduced it here.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Birmingham pick-axe with moveable head]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Russian furnace]
After the alpenstock, or axe-alpenstock, it is of most importance for the mountaineer to supply himself with plenty of good rope. Enough has been said on this subject in different parts of the narrative, as well as in regard to tents. Few other articles are _necessary_, though many others are _desirable_, to carry about, and amongst the most important may be reckoned some simple means of boiling water and cooking. At considerable alt.i.tudes above the tree-line, it is frequently impossible to carry up wood enough for a camp-fire, and nothing but spirits of wine can be employed. The well-known and convenient so-called ”Russian furnace” is the most compact form of spirit lamp that I know, and wonders can be effected with one that is only three inches in diameter. In conjunction with a set of tins like those figured here (which are constructed to be used either with a wood fire or over a spirit lamp), all the cooking can be done that the Alpine tourist requires. For prolonged expeditions of a serious nature a more elaborate equipage is necessary; but upon such small ones as are made in the Alps it would be unnecessarily enc.u.mbering yourself to take a whole _batterie de cuisine_.(1)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Cooking tins]
Before pa.s.sing on to speak of clothing, a word upon snow-blindness will not be out of place. Very fine language is sometimes used to express the fact that persons suffer from their eyes becoming inflamed; and there is one well-known traveller, at least, who, when referring to snow-blindness, speaks habitually of the distressing effects which are produced by ”the reverberation of the snow.” Snow-blindness is a malady which touches all mountain-travellers sooner or later, for it is found impossible in practice always to protect the eyes with the goggles which are shown overleaf. In critical situations almost every one removes them. The beginner should, however, note that at great alt.i.tudes it is not safe to leave the eyes unprotected even on rocks, when the sun is s.h.i.+ning brightly; and upon snow or ice it is indispensable to shade them in some manner, unless you wish to be placed _hors de combat_ on the next day.
Should you unfortunately find yourself in this predicament through the intensity of the light, there is no help but in sulphate of zinc and patience. Of the former material a half-ounce will be sufficient for a prolonged campaign, as a lotion compounded with two or three grains to an ounce of water will give relief; but of patience you can hardly lay in too large a stock, as a single bad day sometimes throws a man on his back for weeks.(2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Snow spectacles]
The whole face suffers under the alternation of heat, cold, and glare, and few mountain-travellers remain long without having their visages blistered and cracked in all directions. Now, in respect to this matter, prevention is better than cure; and, though these inconveniences cannot be entirely escaped, they may, by taking trouble, be deferred for a long time. As a travelling cap for mountain expeditions, there is scarcely anything better than the kind of helmet used by Arctic travellers, and with the eyes well shaded by its projecting peak and covered with the ordinary goggles one ought not, and will not, suffer much from snow-blindness. I have found, however, that it does not sufficiently shade the face, and that it shuts out sound too much when the side-flaps are down; and I consequently adopt a woollen headpiece, which almost entirely covers or shades the face and extends well downwards on to the shoulders. One hears sufficiently distinctly through the interstices of the knitted wool, and they also permit some ventilation-which the Arctic cap does not. It is a useful rather than an ornamental article of attire, and strangely affects one's appearance.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Arctic cap]
For the most severe weather even this is not sufficient, and a mask must be added to protect the remainder of the face. You then present the appearance of the lower woodcut, and are completely disguised. Your most intimate friends-even your own mother-will disown you, and you are a fit subject for endless ridicule.