THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DE TALÈFRE.
“’Tis more by art than force of numerous strokes.”
HOMER.
The person who discovered the Col du Géant must have been a shrewd
mountaineer. The pass was in use before any other was known across the
main chain of Mont Blanc, and down to the present time it remains the
easiest and quickest route from Chamounix to Courmayeur, with the single
exception of the pass that we crossed upon the 3d of July, for the first
time, which lies about mid-way between the Aiguille de Triolet and the
Aiguille de Talèfre, and which, for want of a better name, I have called
the Col de Talèfre.
When one looks toward the upper end of the Glacier de Talèfre from the
direction of the Jardin or of the Couvercle, the ridge that bounds the
view seems to be of little elevation. It is overpowered by the colossal
Grandes Jorasses, and by the almost equally magnificent Aiguille Verte.
The ridge, notwithstanding, is by no means despicable. At no point is its
elevation less than 11,600 feet. It does not look anything like this
height. The Glacier de Talèfre mounts with a steady incline, and the eye
is completely deceived.
In 1864, when prowling about with Mr. Reilly, I instinctively fixed upon a
bent couloir which led up from the glacier to the lowest part of the
ridge; and when, after crossing the Col de Triolet, I saw that the other
side presented no particular difficulty, it seemed to me that this was the
_one_ point in the whole of the range which would afford an easier passage
than the Col du Géant.
We set out from the Montanvert at 4 A.M. upon July 3, to see whether this
opinion was correct, and it fortunately happened that the Rev. A. G.
Girdlestone and a friend, with two Chamounix guides, left the inn at the
same hour as ourselves, to cross the Col du Géant. We kept in company as
far as our routes lay together, and at 9.35 we arrived at the top of our
pass, having taken the route to the south of the Jardin. Description is
unnecessary, as our track is laid down very clearly on the engraving at
the head of this chapter.
Much snow had fallen during the late bad weather, and as we reposed upon
the top of our pass (which was about 11,650 feet above the level of the
sea, and 600 feet above the Col du Géant), we saw that the descent of the
rocks which intervened between us and the Glacier de Triolet would require
some caution, for the sun’s rays poured down directly upon them, and the
snow slipped away every now and then from ledge to ledge just as if it had
been water,—in cascades not large enough to be imposing, but sufficient to
knock us over if we got in their way. This little bit of cliff
consequently took a longer time than it should have done, for when we
heard the indescribable swishing, hissing sound which announced a coming
fall, we of necessity huddled under the lee of the rocks until the snow
ceased to shoot over us.
We got to the level of the Glacier de Triolet without misadventure, then
steered for its left bank to avoid the upper of its two formidable
ice-falls, and after descending the requisite distance by some old snow
lying between the glacier and the cliffs which border it, crossed directly
to the right bank over the level ice between the two ice-falls.(200) The
right bank was gained without any trouble, and we found there numerous
beds of hard snow (avalanche débris) down which we could run or glissade
as fast as we liked.
Glissading is a very pleasant employment when it is accomplished
successfully, and I have never seen a place where it can be more safely
indulged in than the snowy valley on the right bank of the Glacier de
Triolet. In my dreams I glissade delightfully, but in practice I find that
somehow the snow will not behave properly, and that my alpenstock _will_
get between my legs. Then my legs go where my head should be, and I see
the sky revolving at a rapid pace; the snow rises up and smites me, and
runs away; and when it is at last overtaken it suddenly stops, and we come
into violent collision. Those who are with me say that I tumble head over
heels, and there may be some truth in what they say. Streaks of ice are
apt to make the heels shoot away, and stray stones cause one to pitch
headlong down. Somehow these things always seem to come in the way, so it
is as well to glissade only when there is something soft to tumble
into.(201)
[Illustration: Glissading]
Near the termination of the glacier we could not avoid traversing a
portion of its abominable moraine, but at 1.30 P.M. we were clear of it,
and threw ourselves upon some springy turf conscious that our day’s work
was over. An hour afterwards we resumed the march, crossed the Doire
torrent by a bridge a little below Gruetta, and at five o’clock entered
Courmayeur, having occupied somewhat less than ten hours on the way. Mr.
Girdlestone’s party came in, I believe, about four hours afterwards, so
there was no doubt that we made a shorter pass than the Col du Géant; and
I believe we discovered a quicker way of getting from Chamounix to
Courmayeur, or _vice versa_, than will be found elsewhere, so long as the
chain of Mont Blanc remains in its present condition.(202)