Above the Snow Line: Mountaineering Sketches Between 1870 and 1880. C. T. Dent
to transport myself upwards in any style that happened to suit the exigencies of the moment. I had not at that time quite passed the stage of believing all that the guides asserted with reference to the climbing capacities of the individual who pays them for assisting his locomotion, and had a distinct idea that I mastered all the obstacles in a particularly skilful manner. They said as much in fact, but reiterated their compliments so often that I somewhat fear now that I must frequently have given [pg 23]occasion for these remarks of approbation; remarks which I have since observed are more frequently called forth to cover a blunder than to praise an exhibition of science. Probably my progress was about as graceful and sure as that of a weak-legged puppy placed for the first time in its life on a frozen pond, or a cockroach seeking to escape from the entrapping basin, for I had not then developed, in climbing rocks, the adhesive powers of—say the chest, which longer practice will sometimes furnish. We were accompanied by a porter of advanced years whose conversational powers were limited by an odd practice of carrying heavy parcels in his mouth. The day before he had carried up a large beam of wood for the camp fire in this manner. I never met a man with so much jaw and so little talk. He had apparently come out in order to practise himself for the mastication of the Saas mutton, for at the end of the day he would accept of nothing but a sum of two francs, for which I was very thankful. Similar disinterestedness in men of his class is not often met with nowadays.
The art of probing snow
After awhile we left the buttress of rock and turned our attention to a snow slope and made our way up its crest. Here steps were necessary but there was no particular difficulty, for the slope resembled a modern French drawing-room tragedy, in that it was as broad as it was long. We had but to feel that the rope was taut, and could then look about with security. In good [pg 24]time we stepped on to the ridge, and a glance upwards showed that the way was easy enough. We could not but feel that if we were to achieve the honour of a first ascent, such honour would be principally due to the fact that we had subdivided the secondary peaks of the chain more minutely than other travellers. The principle has been carried still further in these latter days, and as any little pale fish that can be caught and fried is considered whitebait, and any article that ladies choose to attach to their heads is termed a bonnet, so any point that can be climbed by an individual line of ascent is now held to be a separate mountain. A considerable snow cornice hung over on the northern side of the arête and great care was necessary, for the ridge itself was so broad and easy, that less careful guides might have made light of it; but Burgener, though he had already acquired a reputation for brilliancy and dash, never suffered himself for one moment to lose sight of the two great qualities in a guide, caution and thoroughness. At each step he probed the snow in front of him with all the diligence of a chiffonnier. It followed that our progress was somewhat slow, but it was none the less highly instructive. The accurate sense of touch in probing doubtful snow with the axe requires and deserves very much more practice than most people would imagine. The unpractised mountaineer may climb with more or less ease a difficult rock the first [pg 25]time he is brought face to face with it, but long and carefully acquired experience is necessary before a man can estimate with certainty the bearing power of a snow bridge with a single thrust of the axe. Indeed many guides of reputation either do not possess or never acquire the muscular sense necessary to enable them to form a reliable opinion on this matter. As a rule, if the rope be properly used and such a mistake be made, somebody plunges through, is hauled out again and no harm is done; but there are occasions when serious accidents have happened, when probably lives have been lost owing to want of skilled knowledge in this detail of snow mountaineering. I have known guides who never failed when they came to a treacherous-looking bridge, to give it one apparently careless thrust with the axe and then walk across with perfect confidence; and I have seen others do exactly the same and disappear suddenly to cool regions below through the bridge; and vice versâ. The unskilful prober will make wide detours when he might go in safety, and the man of good snow touch will avoid what looks sound enough: till in returning, perhaps you see that the hard crust concealed but rotten things beneath: as in an ill-made dumpling. It needs no small amount of training to judge between the man who quickly and with certainty satisfies himself of the safety of a particular snow passage, and the man who is too careless [pg 26]properly to investigate it; yet without such experience the amateur is not really able to decide whether a guide be a good or a bad one.
Sentiment on a summit
Here and there along the ridge short rock passages gave a welcome relief and at length we stood on the highest point of the ridge which culminates so gently in the actual peak of the Südlenzspitz. Our first care was to scrape about and hunt diligently for traces of any previous party. No relic of conviviality could be found, and as all the flat stones about appeared to be in their natural state of disorder, we piled up some of them into a neat little heap, and came to the conclusion that we had performed very doughty deeds. But we were younger then. The sun was out, there was a dead calm, and we lay for a while basking in the warmth and planning a serious expedition for some future year. It may seem strange in these days of rocket-like mountaineering when the climber, like the poet, nascitur non fit, but the peak whose assault we discussed was none other than the Matterhorn. It was no longer thought that goblins and elves tenanted its crags; but although these spectres had not yet been frightened away and turned out of house and home by sardine boxes and broken bottles, some trace of prestige still adhered to the mountain. It had not then, like a galley slave, been bound with chains, or, even as a trussed chicken, girt about with many cords. Nor was the ascent of [pg 27]the peak then talked about as carelessly as might be a walk along Margate pier. Alexander Burgener had never been up the peak, though he was most anxious to get an opportunity of doing so. I can remember well the advice that was given to me on the top of the Südlenzspitz to practise further on a few less formidable mountains before attacking the fascinating Mont Cervin itself. Alas for the old days and the old style of mountaineering! It may be doubted whether such discussions often take place nowadays; but then it was only my sixth season in the Alps. The following year we did hatch out the project laid on the top of the Südlenzspitz to climb the Matterhorn together. To this moment I can remember as I write every detail of the climb and every incident of the day as vividly as if it were yesterday; and what a splendid expedition it was then. The old, old fascination can never come back again in quite the same colours; better, perhaps, that it should not. Is it always true that “a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things”? Surely there is a keenness and a depth of pleasure to be found in recalling happiness, though it may never return in its old form; and the memory of pleasure just toned with a trace of sadness is one of the most profound emotions that can stir the human heart. Go on and climb the Alps ye that follow: nowhere else will you find the same pleasure. But it is changed, and in this amusement the old [pg 28]fascination will never be quite the same to you. It may be, it will be, equally keen, but as there is a difference between skating on virgin ice and that which, though still good, is scored by marks of predecessors, so will you fail to find a something which in the olden days of mountaineering seemed always present. Go elsewhere if you will, and seek fresh fields for mountaineering enterprise in the Caucasus, the Himalayas, the Andes. There you will find the mountains have a charm of their own: the mark is as good, but it is not the Alpine mark. That has been taken by others. Beati possidentes.
The feast is spread
Judging by the nature of these sentiments it would seem that we must have become pensive to the verge of slumber while on the summit. In descending, we followed our morning’s tracks, and scorning the seductive shelter of the hut made straight down for the hotel. On this occasion we found Franz, who was a man of varied resources and accomplishments, hanging his shirt, which apparently he had just washed, up to dry. Our unexpected arrival appeared to disconcert him a little, for the straitened nature of his wardrobe precluded him, to his great disappointment, from appearing at dinner in full costume. He conceived, however, an ingenious, though somewhat transparent subterfuge, and made believe that he had got a bad cold in the chest which compelled him to button his coat up tight round the neck. In honour [pg 29]of our achievements he said he would go down to the cellar and bring us up a curious old wine. The cellar consisted apparently of a packing-case in a shed. Old the wine may have been; curious it certainly was, for it possessed a strong heathery flavour and seemed to turn hot very suddenly and stick fast in the throat like champagne at a suburban charity ball. But nevertheless, with the remnants of the blackbird or some other