A WONDERFUL FEAT BY TWO LADIES
One of the highest and hardest passes in the Alps is the Sesia-Joch,
13,858 feet high, near Monte Rosa. The well-known mountaineer, Mr
Ball, writing in 1863, referred to its first passage by Messrs George
and Moore, as "amongst the most daring of Alpine exploits," and
expressed a doubt whether it would ever be repeated. The party went
_up_ the steep Italian side (on the other, or Swiss side, it is quite
easy). We can, therefore, judge of the astonishment of the members of
the Alpine Club when they learnt that in 1869 "two ladies had not only
crossed this most redoubtable of glacier passes, but crossed it from
Zermatt to Alagna, thus descending the wall of rock, the ascent of
which had until then been looked on as an extraordinary feat for
first-rate climbers." The following extract from an Italian paper,
aided by the notes communicated by the Misses Pigeon to _The Alpine
Journal_, fully explains how this accidental but brilliant feat of
mountaineering was happily brought to a successful termination.
"On 11th August 1869, Miss Anna and Miss Ellen Pigeon, of London, were
at the Riffel Hotel, above Zermatt, with the intention of making the
passage of the Lys-Joch on the next day, in order to reach Gressonay.
Starting at 3 A.M. on the 12th, accompanied by Jean Martin, guide of
Sierre, and by a porter, they arrived at 4 A.M. at the Gorner Glacier,
which they crossed rapidly to the great plateau, enclosed between the
Zumstein-Spitz, Signal-Kuppe, Parrot-Spitze, and Lyskamm, where they
arrived at 10 A.M. At this point, instead of bearing to the right,
which is the way to the Lys-Joch, they turned too much towards the
left, so that they found themselves on a spot at the extremity of the
plateau, from which they saw beneath their feet a vast and profound
precipice, terminating at a great depth upon a glacier. The guide had
only once, about four years before, crossed the Lys-Joch, and in these
desert and extraordinary places, where no permanent vestiges remain of
previous passages, he had not remembered the right direction, nor
preserved a very clear idea of the localities. At the sight of the
tremendous precipice he began to doubt whether he might not have
mistaken the way, and, to form a better judgment, he left the ladies
on the Col, half-stiffened with cold from the violence of the north
wind, ascended to the Parrot-Spitze, and advanced towards the
Ludwigshöhe, in order to examine whether along this precipice, which
lay inexorably in front, there might be a place where a passage could
be effected. But wherever he turned his eyes he saw nothing but broken
rocks and couloirs yet more precipitous.
"In returning to the Col after his fruitless exploration, almost
certain that he had lost his way, he saw among some _débris_ of rock,
an empty bottle (which had been placed there by Messrs George and
Moore in 1862). This discovery persuaded him that here must be the
pass, since some one in passing by the place had there deposited this
bottle. He then applied himself to examining with greater attention
the rocks below, and thought he saw a possibility of descending by
them. He proposed this to the ladies, and they immediately commenced
operations. All being tied together, at proper intervals, with a
strong rope, they began the perilous descent, sometimes over the naked
rock, sometimes over more or less extensive slopes of ice, covered
with a light stratum of snow, in which steps had to be cut. It was
often necessary to stop, in order to descend one after the other by
means of the rope to a point where it might be possible to rest
without being held up. The tremendous precipice was all this time
under their eyes, seeming only to increase as they descended. This
arduous and perilous exertion had continued for more than seven hours
when, towards 6 P.M., the party arrived at a point beyond which all
egress seemed closed. Slippery and almost perpendicular rocks beneath,
right and left, and everywhere; near and around not a space sufficient
to stretch one's self upon, the sun about to set, night at hand! What
a position for the courageous travellers, and for the poor guide on
whom devolved the responsibility of the fatal consequences which
appeared inevitable!
"Nevertheless, Jean Martin did not lose his courage. Having caused the
ladies to rest on the rocks, he ran right and left, climbing as well
as he could, in search of a passage. For about half an hour he looked
and felt for a way, but in vain. At length it appeared to him that it
would be possible to risk a long descent by some rough projections
which occurred here and there in the rocks. With indescribable labour,
and at imminent peril of rolling as shapeless corpses into the
crevasses of the glacier below, the travellers at length set foot upon
the ice. It was 8 P.M.; they had commenced the descent at 11 A.M.;
they crossed the Sesia Glacier at a running pace, on account of the
increasing darkness of the night, which scarcely allowed them to
distinguish the crevasses. After half an hour they set foot on _terra
firma_ at the moraine above the Alp of Vigne, where they perceived at
no great distance a light, towards which they quickly directed their
steps. The shepherd, named Dazza Dionigi, received them kindly, and
lodged them for the night. Until they arrived at the Alp, both the
ladies and the guide believed that they had made the pass of the
Lys-Joch, and that they were now upon an Alp of Gressonay. It was,
therefore, not without astonishment that they learned from the
shepherd that, instead of this, they were at the head of the Val
Sesia, and that they had accomplished the descent of the formidable
Sesia-Joch."
[Illustration: EXTERIOR OF A CLIMBER'S HUT.]
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF A CLIMBER'S HUT.]
As an accompaniment to the foregoing highly-coloured narrative, the
following modest notes, sent to _The Alpine Journal_ by the Misses
Pigeon, will be read with interest:
"All mountaineers are aware how much the difficulty of a pass is
lessened or increased by the state of the weather. In this we were
greatly favoured. For some days it had been very cold and wet at the
Riffel; and when we crossed the Sesia-Joch we found sufficient snow in
descending the ice-slope to give foothold, which decreased the labour
of cutting steps--the axe was only brought into requisition whenever
we traversed to right or left. Had the weather been very hot we should
have been troubled with rolling stones. It was one of those clear,
bright mornings so favourable for mountain excursions. Our guide had
only once before crossed the Lys-Joch, four years previously, and on a
very misty day. We were, therefore, careful to engage a porter who
professed to know the way. The latter proved of no use whatever except
to carry a knapsack.
"We take the blame to ourselves of missing the Lys-Joch; for, on
making the discovery of the porter's ignorance, we turned to _Ball's
Guide Book_, and repeatedly translated to Martin a passage we found
there, warning travellers to avoid keeping too much to the right near
the Lyskamm. The result of our interference was that Martin kept too
much to the left, and missed the Lys-Joch altogether.
"When we perceived the abrupt termination of the actual Col, we all
ascended, with the aid of step-cutting, along the slope of the
Parrot-Spitze, until we came to a place where a descent seemed
feasible. Martin searched for a better passage, but, after all, we
took to the ice-slope, at first, for a little way, keeping on the
rocks. Finding the slope so very rapid, we doubted whether we could
be right in descending it; for we remembered that the descent of the
Lys-Joch is described by Mr Ball as _easy_. We therefore retraced our
steps up the slope to our former halting-place, thus losing
considerable time, for it was now twelve o'clock. Then it was that
Martin explored the Parrot-Spitze still further, and returned in
three-quarters of an hour fully persuaded that there was no other way.
We re-descended the ice-slope, and lower down crossed a couloir, and
then more snow-slopes and rocks brought us to a lower series of rocks,
where our passage seemed stopped at five o'clock. Here the mists,
which had risen since the morning, much impeded our progress, and we
halted, hoping they would disperse. Martin again went off on an
exploring expedition, whilst the porter was sent in another direction.
As both returned from a fruitless search, and sunset was approaching,
the uncomfortable suggestion was made that the next search would be
for the best sleeping quarters. However, Martin himself investigated
the rocks pronounced impracticable by the porter, and by these we
descended to the Sesia Glacier without unusual difficulty. When once
fairly on the glacier, we crossed it at a running pace, for it was
getting dark, and we feared to be benighted on the glacier. It was
dark as we scrambled along the moraine on the other side, and over
rocks and grassy knolls till the shepherd's light at Vigne gave us a
happy indication that a shelter was not far off. The shouts of our
guide brought the shepherd with his oil-lamp to meet us, and it was a
quarter to nine o'clock P.M. when we entered his hut. After partaking
of a frugal meal of bread and milk, we were glad to accept his offer
of a hay bed, together with the unexpected luxury of sheets. When
relating the story of our arrival to the Abbé Farinetti on the
following Sunday at Alagna, the shepherd said that so great was his
astonishment at the sudden apparition of travellers from that
direction, that he thought it must be a visit of angels.
"We consider the Italian account incorrect as to the time we occupied
in the descent. We could not have left our halting-place near the
summit for the second time before a quarter to one o'clock, and in
eight hours we were in this shepherd's hut.
"The Italian account exaggerates the difficulty we experienced. The
rope was never used 'to hold up the travellers and let them down one
by one.' On the contrary, one lady went _last_, preferring to see the
awkward porter in front of her rather than behind. At one spot we
came to an abrupt wall of rock and there we gladly availed ourselves
of our guide's hand. The sensational sentence about 'rolling as
shapeless corpses into the crevasses' is absurd, as we were at that
juncture rejoicing in the prospect of a happy termination of our
dilemma, and of crossing the glacier in full enjoyment of our senses."
The editor of _The Alpine Journal_ concludes with the following
comments:
"It is impossible to pass over without some further remark the
behaviour of the guide and porter who shared this adventure. Jean
Martin, if he led his party into a scrape, certainly showed no small
skill and perseverance in carrying them safely out of it. Porters have
as a class, and with some honourable exceptions, long afforded a proof
that Swiss peasants are not necessarily born climbers. Their
difficulties and blunders have, indeed, served as one of the standing
jokes of Alpine literature. But we doubt if any porter has ever
exhibited himself in so ignoble a position as the man who, having
begun by obtaining an engagement under false pretences, ended by
allowing one of his employers, a lady, to descend the Italian side of
the Sesia-Joch last on the rope."
A PERILOUS CLIMB
In the year 1865 but few different routes were known up Mont Blanc. It
has now been ascended from every direction and by every conceivable
combination of routes, yet I doubt if any at all rivalling the one I
intend quoting the account of has ever been accomplished. The route in
question is by the Brenva Glacier on the Italian side of the great
mountain, and the travellers who undertook to attempt what the guides
hardly thought a possible piece of work, consisted of Mr Walker, his
son Horace, Mr Mathews, and Mr Moore, the account which I take from
_The Alpine Journal_ having been written by the latter. For guides
they had two very first-rate men, Melchior Anderegg and his cousin,
Jacob Anderegg.
I shall omit the first part of the narrative, interesting though it
is, and go at once to the point where, not long after sunrise, the
mountaineers found themselves.
"We had risen very rapidly, and must have been at an elevation of more
than 12,000 feet. Our position, therefore, commanded an extensive view
in all directions. The guides were in a hurry, so cutting our halt
shorter than would have been agreeable, we resumed our way at 7.55,
and after a few steps up a slope at an angle of 50°, found ourselves
on the crest of the buttress, and looking down upon, and across, the
lower part of a glacier tributary to the Brenva, beyond which towered
the grand wall of the Mont Maudit. We turned sharp to the left along
the ridge, Jacob leading, followed by Mr Walker, Horace, Mathews,
Melchior, and myself last. We had anticipated that, assuming the
possibility of gaining the ridge on which we were, there would be no
serious difficulty in traversing it, and so much as we could see ahead
led us to hope that our anticipations would turn out correct. Before
us lay a narrow but not steep arête of rock and snow combined, which
appeared to terminate some distance in front in a sharp peak. We
advanced cautiously, keeping rather below the top of the ridge,
speculating with some curiosity on what lay beyond this peak. On
reaching it, the apparent peak proved not to be a peak at all, but the
extremity of the narrowest and most formidable ice arête I ever saw,
which extended almost on a level for an uncomfortably long distance.
Looking back by the light of our subsequent success, I have always
considered it a providential circumstance that, at this moment, Jacob,
and not Melchior was leading the party. In saying this, I shall not
for an instant be suspected of any imputation upon Melchior's courage.
But in him that virtue is combined to perfection with the equally
necessary one of prudence, while he shares the objection which nearly
all guides have to taking upon themselves, without discussion,
responsibility in positions of doubt. Had he been in front, I believe
that, on seeing the nature of the work before us, we should have
halted and discussed the propriety of proceeding; and I believe
further that, as the result of that discussion, our expedition would
have then and there come to an end. Now in Jacob, with courage as
faultless as Melchior's, and physical powers even superior, the virtue
of prudence is conspicuous chiefly from its absence; and, on coming to
this ugly place, it never for an instant occurred to him that we might
object to go on, or consider the object in view not worth the risk
which must be inevitably run. He therefore went calmly on without so
much as turning to see what we thought of it, while I do not suppose
that it entered into the head of any one of us spontaneously to
suggest a retreat.
"On most arêtes, however narrow the actual crest may be, it is
generally possible to get a certain amount of support by driving the
pole into the slope on either side. But this was not the case here.
We were on the top of a wall, the ice on the right falling vertically
(I use the word advisedly), and on the left nearly so. On neither side
was it possible to obtain the slightest hold with the alpenstock. I
believe also that an arête of pure ice is more often encountered in
description than in reality, that term being generally applied to hard
snow. But here, for once, we had the genuine article, blue ice without
a speck of snow on it. The space for walking was, at first, about the
breadth of an ordinary wall, in which Jacob cut holes for the feet.
Being last in the line I could see little of what was coming until I
was close upon it, and was therefore considerably startled on seeing
the men in front suddenly abandon the upright position, which in spite
of the insecurity of the steps and difficulty of preserving the
balance, had been hitherto maintained, and sit down _à cheval_. The
ridge had narrowed to a knife edge, and for a few yards it was utterly
impossible to advance in any other way. The foremost men soon stood up
again, but when I was about to follow their example Melchior insisted
emphatically upon my not doing so, but remaining seated. Regular steps
could no longer be cut, but Jacob, as he went along, simply sliced off
the top of the ridge, making thus a slippery pathway, along which
those behind crept, moving one foot carefully after the other. As for
me, I worked myself along with my hands in an attitude safer, perhaps,
but considerably more uncomfortable, and, as I went, could not keep
occasionally speculating, with an odd feeling of amusement, as to what
would be the result if any of the party should chance to slip over on
either side--what the rest would do--whether throw themselves over on
the other side or not--and if so, what would happen then. Fortunately
the occasion for the solution of this curious problem did not arise,
and at 9.30 we reached the end of the arête, where it emerged in the
long slopes of broken _névé_, over which our way was next to lie. As
we looked back along our perilous path, it was hard to repress a
shudder, and I think the dominant feeling of every man was one of
wonder how the passage had been effected without accident. One good
result, however, was to banish from Melchior's mind the last traces of
doubt as to our ultimate success, his reply to our anxious enquiry
whether he thought we should get up, being, 'We must, for we cannot go
back.' In thus speaking, he probably said rather more than he meant,
but the fact will serve to show that I have not exaggerated the
difficulty we had overcome."
Mr Moore goes on to describe the considerable trouble the party had
in mounting the extremely steep snow-slope on which they were now
embarked. The continual step-cutting was heavy work for the guides. At
last they were much annoyed to find between them and their goal "a
great wall of ice running right across and completely barring the way
upwards. Our position was, in fact, rather critical. Immediately over
our heads the slope on which we were, terminated in a great mass of
broken _séracs_, which might come down with a run at any moment. It
seemed improbable that any way out of our difficulties would be found
in that quarter. But, where else to look? There was no use in going to
the left--to the right we _could_ not go--and back we _would_ not go.
After careful scrutiny, Melchior thought it just possible that we
might find a passage through those séracs on the higher and more level
portion of the glacier to the right of them, and there being obviously
no chance of success in any other direction, we turned towards them.
The ice here was steeper and harder than it had yet been. In spite of
all Melchior's care, the steps were painfully insecure, and we were
glad to get a grip with one hand of the rocks alongside of which we
passed. The risk, too, of an avalanche was considerable, and it was a
relief when we were so close under the séracs that a fall from above
could not well hurt us. Melchior had steered with his usual
discrimination, and was now attacking the séracs at the only point
where they appeared at all practical. Standing over the mouth of a
crevasse choked with _débris_, he endeavoured to lift himself on to
its upper edge, which was about 15 feet above. But to accomplish this
seemed at first a task too great even for his agility, aided as it was
by vigorous pushes. At last, by a marvellous exercise of skill and
activity, he succeeded, pulled up Mr Walker and Horace, and then cast
off the rope to reconnoitre, leaving them to assist Mathews, Jacob and
myself in the performance of a similar manoeuvre. We were all three
still below, when a yell from Melchior sent a thrill through our
veins. 'What is it?' said we to Mr Walker. A shouting communication
took place between him and Melchior, and then came the answer, 'He
says it is all right.' That moment was worth living for."
Mr Moore tells how, over now easy ground, the party rapidly ascended
higher and higher. "We reached the summit at 3.10, and found ourselves
safe at Chamouni at 10.30. Our day's work had thus extended to nearly
20 hours, of which 17½ hours were actual walking."
It is interesting to note that in after years a route was discovered
on the opposite, or French side of Mont Blanc, of which the chief
difficulty was an extremely narrow--but in this case also steep--ice
ridge. This ascent, _via_ the Aiguille de Bionnassay, enjoys, I
believe, an even greater reputation than that by the Brenva. It has
been accomplished twice by ladies, the first time by Miss Katherine
Richardson, whose skill and extraordinary rapidity of pace have given
her a record on more than one great peak. Miss Richardson, having done
all the hard part of the climb, descended from the Dome de Gouter. The
second ascent by a lady was undertaken successfully in 1899, by
Mademoiselle Eugénie de Rochat, who has a brilliant list of climbs in
the Mont Blanc district to her credit.