Above the Snow Line: Mountaineering Sketches Between 1870 and 1880. C. T. Dent
time we considered was the nastiest we had ever encountered. The smooth, almost unbroken face of the slope scarcely afforded any foot-hold, and our security almost entirely depended on the rope we had laid down in our ascent. Had not the rope been in position we should have varied our route, and no doubt found a line of descent over this part much easier than the one we actually made for, even without any help from the fixed cord. Imseng was far below, working his way back to the arête, while the rest of the party were holding on or moving but slowly with faces turned to the mountain. Suddenly I heard a shout from above; those below glanced up at once: a large flat slab of rock, that had afforded us good hold in ascending, but proved now to have been only frozen in to a shallow basin of ice, had been dislodged by the slightest touch from one of the party above, and was sliding down straight at us. It seemed an age, though the stone could not have had to fall more than ten feet or so, before it reached us. Just above me it turned its course slightly; Franz, who was just below, more in its direct line of descent, attempted to stop the mass, but it ground his hands [pg 50]against the rock and swept by straight at Imseng. A yell from us hardly awoke him to the danger: the slab slid on faster and faster, but just as we expected to see our guide swept away, the rock gave a bound for the first time, and as, with a startled expression, he flung himself against the rock face, it leapt up and, flying by within a few inches of his head, thundered down below. A moment or two of silence followed, and then a modified cheer from Imseng, as subdued as that of a “super” welcoming a theatrical king, announced his safety, and he looked up at us with a serious expression on his face. Franz’s escape had been a remarkably lucky one, but his hands were badly cut about and bruised. In fact it was a near thing for all of us, and the mere recollection will still call up that odd sort of thrill a man experiences on suddenly recollecting at 11 P.M. that he ought to have dined out that evening with some very particular people. Had not the rock turned its course just before it reached Franz, and bounded from the face of the mountain over Imseng’s head, one or more of the party must unquestionably have been swept away. The place was rather an exceptional one, and the rock glided a remarkably long distance without a bound, but still the incident may serve to show that falling stones are not a wholly imaginary danger.
The youthful tourist
It would have been difficult, with the elementary [pg 51]knowledge of mountaineering that I now see we possessed at that day, to have descended without using the attached rope, and quite out of the question for anyone possessed of a proper respect for his suit of dittos to have done so. In this latter respect we had to exercise economical caution: for we had no very great store at the hotel or many changes of raiment. It is generally possible to gauge pretty accurately an Alpine traveller’s experience by the amount of luggage he takes on a tour. Some tourists, following the advice given in the “Practical Guide Book” (a disconnected work written in the style of Mr. Jingle’s conversation, but much in favour at one time), were in the habit of travelling with one suit of clothes and a portable bath. The latter, though they took it with them, they seldom took more than once; at the best it was of comparatively little use as an article of apparel, but imparted an aromatic flavour to anything packed up in its immediate neighbourhood. In those youthful days we considered, forsooth, that a little leathern wallet adequately replaced a portmanteau, and in transporting luggage did not always act on the sound commercial maxim that you should never do anything for yourself which a paid person might do equally well for you; consequently a heavy rain shower reduced the traveller to inactivity, and an oversight on the part of the laundress entailed consequences that it is not permissible to mention.
[pg 52]
Meanwhile our turn had come to move on. A zigzagging crack, which was too narrow to admit of anything but a most uncomfortable position, afforded the only hand and foot hold on which we could rely. Our gloveless hands, clutching at the rope, cooled down slowly to an unpleasant temperature that rendered it doubtful whether they were attached to the arms or not, and we began to wish we had gone down the Zinal side of the mountain. However, Imseng wormed himself along the rocks, to which he adhered with the tenacity of a lizard, and finally reached the end of our rope and a region of comparative safety. We followed his example slowly, and, having joined him, seated ourselves on some rocks inappropriately designed for repose, and finished off the food we had with us. Climbing carefully down the east face of the mountain, we reached the snow ridge and passed rapidly along it, our spirits rising exuberantly as we looked back on the vanquished peak. As usually happens, the guides had entirely forgotten the place where they had concealed our baggage on the ascent, and in fact had hidden it so carefully that they had some difficulty in finding it when they came to the spot. It is curious to note how often the instinct of guides, so much talked about, is at fault in this matter, and how systematically they are in the habit of carrying up on the mountains superfluous articles, hiding [pg 53]them with entirely unnecessary precautions, and subsequently forgetting the whole transaction.
Hotel trials
While they searched about for their cache we enjoyed the use of tobacco, if such an expression be allowable in the case of some curious stuff purchased in the valley. Still, as the packet in which it was contained was labelled “Tabak,” we considered it to be such. Being indulgently disposed, and not being profound botanists, poetic license alone enabled us to imagine that
“We soared above
Dull earth, in those ambrosial clouds like Jove,
And from our own empyrean height
Looked down upon Zermatt with calm delight.”
The gushers
It may have been so; it gave me a sore throat. Descending rapidly, we reached the Monte Rosa Hotel at 7 P.M., in an exultant frame of mind, a ragged condition of attire, and a preposterous state of hunger. The whole time occupied in the climb was sixteen hours. Of this an hour was wasted while we were waiting for the telescope, and three-quarters of an hour was spent in arranging the rope, by the aid of which we descended. Probably in actual climbing and walking we employed rather under thirteen hours; but the snow was in excellent order, and we descended on the whole very rapidly. Our trials were not over for the day, when we reached the hotel. Two arch young things had prepared an ambuscade and [pg 54]surprised us successfully at the door of the hotel. Sweetly did they gush. “Oh! where had we been?” We said we had been up in the mountains, indicating the general line of locality with retrospective thumb. “Oh! wasn’t it fearfully dangerous? Weren’t we all tied tightly together?” (as if, on the principle of union being strength, we had been fastened up and bound like a bundle of quill pens). “Oh! hadn’t we done something very wonderful?” The situation was becoming irritating. “Oh! didn’t we have to drag ourselves up precipices by the chamois horns on the tops of our sticks?” “No indeed——” “Oh! really, now, that guide there” (a driver with imperfectly buttoned garments who was sitting on the wall with a vacuous look) “told us you were such wonderful climbers.” It was becoming exasperating. “And oh! we wanted to ask you so much, for you know all about it. Do you think we could walk over the Théodule? Papa” (great heavens! he must be a nonagenarian) “thinks we should be so foolish to try. Could you persuade him?” “Well, really——” “Wouldn’t the precipices make us dreadfully giddy?” “No, no more than you are now.” “Oh! thank you so much. And you really won’t tell us what awful ascent you have been making?” It was maddening. “After dinner perhaps?” “Oh! thank you. Oh! Sustie” (this to each other; they both spoke together: probably the names were Susie and Tottie), “won’t that be delight[pg 55]ful?” By dexterous manœuvring we escaped these gushing Circes during the evening. Happening to pass later on by the open door of the little salon, the following remark was overheard: “My dear, the conceit of these climbing objects is quite dreadful. They do nothing but flourish their nasty sticks and ropes about: they want the whole place to themselves” (we had been sitting on wooden chairs in the middle of the high street, near an unsavoury heap of refuse), “and they talk, talk, talk, my dear, all day and all night about what they have been doing in the mountains and of their nonsensical climbs. And what frights they look. I think they are perfectly horrid.” Can the voice have been that of the gusher?
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