Part 9 (2/2)

[Sidenote: ADVANCE OF THE CLOUDS. 1858.]

At five o'clock a gray cloud alighted on the shoulder of the Lyskamm, which had hitherto been warmed by the lovely yellow light. Soon afterwards we reached the foot of Monte Rosa, and pa.s.sed from the glacier to a slope of rocks, whose rounded forms and furrowed surfaces showed that the ice of former ages had moved over them; the granite was now coated with lichens, and between the bosses where mould could rest were patches of tender moss. As we ascended, a peal to the right announced the descent of an avalanche from the Twins; it came heralded by clouds of ice-dust, which resembled the sphered ma.s.ses of condensed vapour which issue from a locomotive. A gentle snow-slope brought us to the base of a precipice of brown rocks, round which we wound; the snow was in excellent order, and the chasms were so firmly bridged by the frozen ma.s.s that no caution was necessary in crossing them. Surmounting a weathered cliff to our left, we paused upon the summit to look upon the scene around us. The snow gliding insensibly from the mountains, or discharged in avalanches from the precipices which it overhung, filled the higher valleys with pure white glaciers, which were rifted and broken here and there, exposing chasms and precipices from which gleamed the delicate blue of the half-formed ice. Sometimes, however, the _neves_ spread over wide s.p.a.ces without a rupture or wrinkle to break the smoothness of the superficial snow. The sky was now for the most part overcast, but through the residual blue s.p.a.ces the sun at intervals poured light over the rounded bosses of the mountain.

[Sidenote: MONTE ROSA CAPPED. 1858.]

At half-past seven o'clock we reached another precipice of rock, to the left of which our route lay, and here Lauener proposed to have some refreshment; after which we went on again. The clouds spread more and more, leaving at length mere specks and patches of blue between them.

Pa.s.sing some high peaks, formed by the dislocation of the ice, we came to a place where the _neve_ was rent by creva.s.ses, on the walls of which the stratification due to successive snow-falls was shown with great beauty and definition. Between two of these fissures our way now lay: the wall of one of them was hollowed out longitudinally midway down, thus forming a roof above and a ledge below, and from roof to ledge stretched a railing of cylindrical icicles, as if intended to bolt them together. A cloud now for the first time touched the summit of Monte Rosa, and sought to cling to it, but in a minute it dispersed in shattered fragments, as if dashed to pieces for its presumption. The mountain remained for a time clear and triumphant, but the triumph was short-lived: like suitors that will not be repelled, the dusky vapours came; repulse after repulse took place, and the sunlight gushed down upon the heights, but it was manifest that the clouds gained ground in the conflict.

Until about a quarter past nine o'clock our work was mere child's play, a pleasant morning stroll along the flanks of the mountain; but steeper slopes now rose above us, which called for more energy, and more care in the fixing of the feet. Looked at from below, some of these slopes appeared precipitous; but we were too well acquainted with the effect of fore-shortening to let this daunt us. At each step we dug our batons into the deep snow. When first driven in, the batons[A] _dipped_ from us, but were brought, as we walked forward, to the vertical, and finally beyond it at the other side. The snow was thus forced aside, a rubbing of the staff against it, and of the snow-particles against each other, being the consequence. We had thus perpetual rupture and regelation; while the little sounds consequent upon rupture, reinforced by the partial echoes from the surfaces of the granules, were blended together to a note resembling the lowing of cows. Hitherto I had paused at intervals to make notes, or to take an angle; but these operations now ceased, not from want of time, but from pure dislike; for when the eye has to act the part of a sentinel who feels that at any moment the enemy may be upon him; when the body must be balanced with precision, and legs and arms, besides performing actual labour, must be kept in readiness for possible contingencies; above all, when you feel that your safety depends upon yourself alone, and that, if your footing gives way, there is no strong arm behind ready to be thrown between you and destruction; under such circ.u.mstances the relish for writing ceases, and you are willing to hand over your impressions to the safe keeping of memory.

[Sidenote: THE ”COMB” OF THE MOUNTAIN. 1858.]

[Sidenote: ASCENT ALONG A CORNICE. 1858.]

From the vast boss which const.i.tutes the lower portion of Monte Rosa cliffy edges run upwards to the summit. Were the snow removed from these we should, I doubt not, see them as toothed or serrated crags, justifying the term ”_kamm_,” or ”comb,” applied to such edges by the Germans. Our way now lay along such a kamm, the cliffs of which had, however, caught the snow, and been completely covered by it, forming an edge like the ridge of a house-roof, which sloped steeply upwards. On the Lyskamm side of the edge there was no footing, and, if a human body fell over here, it would probably pa.s.s through a vertical s.p.a.ce of some thousands of feet, falling or rolling, before coming to rest. On the other side the snow-slope was less steep, but excessively perilous-looking, and intersected by precipices of ice. Dense clouds now enveloped us, and made our position far uglier than if it had been fairly illuminated. The valley below us was one vast cauldron, filled with precipitated vapour, which came seething at times up the sides of the mountain. Sometimes this fog would partially clear away, and the light would gleam upwards from the dislocated glaciers. My guide continually admonished me to make my footing sure, and to fix at each step my staff firmly in the consolidated snow. At one place, for a short steep ascent, the slope became hard ice, and our position a very ticklish one. We hewed our steps as we moved upwards, but were soon glad to deviate from the ice to a position scarcely less awkward. The wind had so acted upon the snow as to fold it over the edge of the kamm, thus causing it to form a kind of cornice, which overhung the precipice on the Lyskamm side of the mountain. This cornice now bore our weight: its snow had become somewhat firm, but it was yielding enough to permit the feet to sink in it a little way, and thus secure us at least against the danger of slipping. Here also at each step we drove our batons firmly into the snow, availing ourselves of whatever help they could render.

Once, while thus securing my anchorage, the handle of my hatchet went right through the cornice on which we stood, and, on withdrawing it, I could see through the aperture into the cloud-crammed gulf below. We continued ascending until we reached a rock protruding from the snow, and here we halted for a few minutes. Lauener looked upwards through the fog. ”According to all description,” he observed, ”this ought to be the last kamm of the mountain; but in this obscurity we can see nothing.”

Snow began to fall, and we recommenced our journey, quitting the rocks and climbing again along the edge. Another hour brought us to a crest of cliffs, at which, to our comfort, the kamm appeared to cease, and other climbing qualities were demanded of us.

[Sidenote: ”DIE HoCHSTE SPITZE.” 1858.]

On the Lyskamm side, as I have said, rescue would be out of the question, should the climber go over the edge. On the other side of the edge rescue seemed possible, though the slope, as stated already, was most dangerously steep. I now asked Lauener what he would have done, supposing my footing to have failed on the latter slope. He did not seem to like the question, but said that he should have considered well for a moment and then have sprung after me; but he exhorted me to drive all such thoughts away. I laughed at him, and this did more to set his mind at rest than any formal profession of courage could have done. We were now among rocks: we climbed cliffs and descended them, and advanced sometimes with our feet on narrow ledges, holding tightly on to other ledges by our fingers; sometimes, cautiously balanced, we moved along edges of rock with precipices on both sides. Once, in getting round a crag, Lauener shook a book from his pocket; it was arrested by a rock about sixty or eighty feet below us. He wished to regain it, but I offered to supply its place, if he thought the descent too dangerous. He said he would make the trial, and parted from me. I thought it useless to remain idle. A cleft was before me, through which I must pa.s.s; so, pressing my knees and back against its opposite sides, I gradually worked myself to the top. I descended the other face of the rock, and then, through a second ragged fissure, to the summit of another pinnacle. The highest point of the mountain was now at hand, separated from me merely by a short saddle, carved by weathering out of the crest of the mountain. I could hear Lauener clattering after me, through the rocks behind. I dropped down upon the saddle, crossed it, climbed the opposite cliff, and ”_die hochste Spitze_” of Monte Rosa was won.

[Sidenote: GLOOM ON THE SUMMIT. 1858.]

Lauener joined me immediately, and we mutually congratulated each other on the success of the ascent. The residue of the bread and meat was produced, and a bottle of tea was also appealed to. Mixed with a little cognac, Lauener declared that he had never tasted anything like it. Snow fell thickly at intervals, and the obscurity was very great; occasionally this would lighten and permit the sun to shed a ghastly dilute light upon us through the gleaming vapour. I put my boiling-water apparatus in order, and fixed it in a corner behind a ledge; the shelter was, however, insufficient, so I placed my hat above the vessel. The boiling point was 184.92 Fahr., the ledge on which the instrument stood being 5 feet below the highest point of the mountain.

The ascent from the Riffel hotel occupied us about seven hours, nearly two of which were spent upon the kamm and crest. Neither of us felt in the least degree fatigued; I, indeed, felt so fresh, that had another Monte Rosa been planted on the first, I should have continued the climb without hesitation, and with strong hopes of reaching the top. I experienced no trace of mountain sickness, la.s.situde, shortness of breath, heart-beat, or headache; nevertheless the summit of Monte Rosa is 15,284 feet high, being less than 500 feet lower than Mont Blanc. It is, I think, perfectly certain, that the rarefaction of the air at this height is not sufficient of itself to produce the symptoms referred to; physical exertion must be superadded.

[Sidenote: ”FROZEN FLOWERS.” 1858.]

After a few fitful efforts to dispel the gloom, the sun resigned the dominion to the dense fog and the descending snow, which now prevented our seeing more than 15 or 20 paces in any direction. The temperature of the crags at the summit, which had been shone upon by the unclouded sun during the earlier portion of the day, was 60 Fahr.; hence the snow melted instantly wherever it came in contact with the rock. But some of it fell upon my felt hat, which had been placed to shelter the boiling-water apparatus, and this presented the most remarkable and beautiful appearance. The fall of snow was in fact a shower of frozen flowers. All of them were six-leaved; some of the leaves threw out lateral ribs like ferns, some were rounded, others arrowy and serrated, some were close, others reticulated, but there was no deviation from the six-leaved type. Nature seemed determined to make us some compensation for the loss of all prospect, and thus showered down upon us those lovely blossoms of the frost; and had a spirit of the mountain inquired my choice, the view, or the frozen flowers, I should have hesitated before giving up that exquisite vegetation. It was wonderful to think of, as well as beautiful to behold. Let us imagine the eye gifted with a microscopic power sufficient to enable it to see the molecules which composed these starry crystals; to observe the solid nucleus formed and floating in the air; to see it drawing towards it its allied atoms, and these arranging themselves as if they moved to music, and ended by rendering that music concrete. Surely such an exhibition of power, such an apparent demonstration of a resident intelligence in what we are accustomed to call ”brute matter,” would appear perfectly miraculous.

And yet the reality would, if we could see it, transcend the fancy. If the Houses of Parliament were built up by the forces resident in their own bricks and lithologic blocks, and without the aid of hodman or mason, there would be nothing intrinsically more wonderful in the process than in the molecular architecture which delighted us upon the summit of Monte Rosa.

[Sidenote: STARTLING AVALANCHE. 1858.]

Twice or thrice had my guide warned me that we must think of descending, for the snow continued to fall heavily, and the loss of our track would be attended with imminent peril. We therefore packed up, and clambered downward among the crags of the summit. We soon left these behind us, and as we stood once more upon the kamm, looking into the gloom beneath, an avalanche let loose from the side of an adjacent mountain shook the air with its thunder. We could not see it, could form no estimate of its distance, could only hear its roar, which coming to us through the darkness, had an undefinable element of horror in it. Lauener remarked, ”I never hear those things without a shudder; the memory of my brother comes back to me at the same time.” His brother, who was the best climber in the Oberland, had been literally broken to fragments by an avalanche on the slopes of the Jungfrau.

We had been separate coming up, each having trusted to himself, but the descent was more perilous, because it is more difficult to fix the heel of the boot than the toe securely in the ice. Lauener was furnished with a rope, which he now tied round my waist, and forming a noose at the other end, he slipped it over his arm. This to me was a new mode of attachment. Hitherto my guides in dangerous places had tied the ropes round _their_ waists also. Simond had done it on Mont Blanc, and Bennen on the Finsteraarhorn, proving thus their willingness to share my fate whatever that might be. But here Lauener had the power of sending me adrift at any moment, should his own life be imperilled. I told him that his mode of attachment was new to me, but he a.s.sured me that it would give him more power in case of accident. I did not see this at the time; but neither did I insist on his attaching himself in the usual way. It could neither be called anger nor pride, but a warm flush ran through me as I remarked, that I should take good care not to test his power of holding me. I believe I wronged my guide by the supposition that he made the arrangement with reference to his own safety, for all I saw of him afterwards proved that he would at any time have risked his life to save mine. The flush however did me good, by displacing every trace of anxiety, and the rope, I confess, was also a source of some comfort to me. We descended the kamm, I going first. ”Secure your footing before you move,” was my guide's constant exhortation, ”and make your staff firm at each step.” We were sometimes quite close upon the rim of the kamm on the Lyskamm side, and we also followed the depressions which marked our track along the cornice. This I now tried intentionally, and drove the handle of my axe through it once or twice. At two places in descending we were upon the solid ice, and these were some of the steepest portions of the kamm. They were undoubtedly perilous, and the utmost caution was necessary in fixing the staff and securing the footing. These however once past, we felt that the chief danger was over. We reached the termination of the edge, and although the snow continued to fall heavily, and obscure everything, we knew that our progress afterwards was secure. There was pleasure in this feeling; it was an agreeable variation of that grim mental tension to which I had been previously wound up, but which in itself was by no means disagreeable.

[Sidenote: SPLENDID BLUE OF THE SNOW. 1858.]

[Sidenote: STIFLING HEAT. 1858.]

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