THE ASCENT OF A WALL OF ICE
Of all the writers on Alpine matters none has a more charming style,
or has described his adventures in a more modest manner, than Sir
Leslie Stephen. Perhaps the most delightful passages in his
_Playground of Europe_ are those in which he tells how, in company
with the Messrs Mathews, he managed to get up the great wall of ice
between the Mönch and the Eiger, known as the Eigerjoch. The Messrs
Mathews had with them two Chamonix guides, while Mr Leslie Stephen had
engaged the gigantic Oberlander Ulrich Lauener. In those days there
was often keen rivalry--and something more--between French and
German-speaking guides, and Lauener was apt to be rather an autocrat
on the mountains. "As, however, he could not speak a word of French,
nor they of German, he was obliged to convey his 'sentiments' in
pantomime, which, perhaps, did not soften 'their vigour.' I was
accordingly prepared for a few disputes next day.
"About four on the morning of 7th August we got off from the inn on
the Wengern Alp, notwithstanding a few delays, and steered straight
for the foot of the Eiger. In the early morning the rocks around the
glacier and the lateral moraines were hard and slippery. Before long,
however, we found ourselves well on the ice, near the central axis of
the Eiger Glacier, and looking up at the great terrace-shaped
ice-masses, separated by deep crevasses, which rose threateningly over
our heads, one above another, like the defences of some vast
fortification. And here began the first little dispute between
Oberland and Chamouni. The Chamouni men proposed a direct assault on
the network of crevasses above us. Lauener said that we ought to turn
them by crossing to the south-west side, immediately below the Mönch.
My friends and their guides forming a majority, and seeming to have
little respect for the arguments urged by the minority, we gave in and
followed them, with many muttered remarks from Lauener. We soon found
ourselves performing a series of manoeuvres like those required for
the ascent of the Col du Géant. At times we were lying flat in little
gutters on the faces of the _séracs_, worming ourselves along like
boa-constrictors. At the next moment we were balancing ourselves on a
knife-edge of ice between two crevasses, or plunging into the very
bowels of the glacier, with a natural arch of ice meeting above our
heads. I need not attempt to describe difficulties and dangers
familiar to all ice-travellers. Like other such difficulties, they
were exciting, and even rather amusing for a time, but, unfortunately,
they seemed inclined to last rather too long. Some of the deep
crevasses apparently stretched almost from side to side of the
glacier, rending its whole mass into distorted fragments. In
attempting to find a way through them, we seemed to be going nearly as
far backwards as forwards, and the labyrinth in which we were involved
was as hopelessly intricate after a long struggle as it had been at
first. Moreover, the sun had long touched the higher snow-fields, and
was creeping down to us step by step. As soon as it reached the huge
masses amongst which we were painfully toiling, some of them would
begin to jump about like hailstones in a shower, and our position
would become really dangerous. The Chamouni guides, in fact, declared
it to be dangerous already, and warned us not to speak, for fear of
bringing some of the nicely-poised ice-masses down on our heads. On my
translating this well-meant piece of advice to Lauener, he
immediately selected the most dangerous looking pinnacle in sight, and
mounting to the top of it sent forth a series of screams, loud enough,
I should have thought, to bring down the top of the Mönch. They
failed, however, to dislodge any _séracs_, and Lauener, going to the
front, called to us to follow him. By this time we were all glad to
follow any one who was confident enough to lead. Turning to our right,
we crossed the glacier in a direction parallel to the deep crevasses,
and therefore unobstructed by any serious obstacles, till we found
ourselves immediately beneath the great cliffs of the Mönch. Our
prospects changed at once. A great fold in the glacier produces a kind
of diagonal pathway, stretching upwards from the point where we stood
towards the rocks of the Eiger--not that it was exactly a
carriage-road--but along the line which divides two different systems
of crevasse, the glacier seemed to have been crushed into smaller
fragments, producing, as it were, a kind of incipient macadamisation.
The masses, instead of being divided by long regular trenches, were
crumbled and jammed together so as to form a road, easy and pleasant
enough by comparison with our former difficulties. Pressing rapidly up
this rough path, we soon found ourselves in the very heart of the
glacier, with a broken wilderness of ice on every side. We were in
one of the grandest positions I have ever seen for observing the
wonders of the ice-world; but those wonders were not all of an
encouraging nature. For, looking up to the snow-fields now close above
us, an obstacle appeared which made us think that all our previous
labours had been in vain. From side to side of the glacier a vast
_chevaux de frise_ of blue ice-pinnacles struck up through the white
layers of _névé_ formed by the first plunge of the glacier down its
waterfall of ice. Some of them rose in fantastic shapes--huge blocks
balanced on narrow footstalks, and only waiting for the first touch of
the sun to fall in ruins down the slope below. Others rose like church
spires, or like square towers, defended by trenches of unfathomable
depths. Once beyond this barrier we should be safe upon the highest
plateau of the glacier at the foot of the last snow-slope. But it was
obviously necessary to turn them by some judicious strategical
movement. One plan was to climb the lower rocks of the Eiger; but,
after a moment's hesitation, we fortunately followed Lauener towards
the other side of the glacier, where a small gap between the _séracs_
and the lower slopes of the Mönch seemed to be the entrance to a
ravine that might lead us upwards. Such it turned out to be. Instead
of the rough footing in which we had hitherto been unwillingly
restricted, we found ourselves ascending a narrow gorge, with the
giant cliffs of the Mönch on our right, and the toppling ice-pinnacles
on our left. A beautifully even surface of snow, scarcely marked by a
single crevasse, lay beneath our feet. We pressed rapidly up this
strange little pathway, as it wound steeply upwards between the rocks
and the ice, expecting at every moment to see it thin out, or break
off at some impassable crevasse. It was, I presume, formed by the
sliding of avalanches from the slopes of the Mönch. At any rate, to
our delight, it led us gradually round the barrier of _séracs_, till
in a few minutes we found ourselves on the highest plateau of the
glacier, the crevasses fairly beaten, and a level plain of snow
stretching from our feet to the last snow-slope.
"We were now standing on the edge of a small level plateau. One, and
only one, gigantic crevasse of really surpassing beauty stretched
right across it. This was, we guessed, some 300 feet deep, and its
sides passed gradually into the lovely blues and greens of
semi-transparent ice, whilst long rows and clusters of huge icicles
imitated (as Lauener remarked) the carvings and ecclesiastical
furniture of some great cathedral.
"To reach our pass, we had the choice either of at once attacking the
long steep slopes which led directly to the shoulder of the Mönch, or
of first climbing the gentle slope near the Eiger, and then forcing
our way along the backbone of the ridge. We resolved to try the last
plan first.
"Accordingly, after a hasty breakfast at 9.30, we started across our
little snow-plain and commenced the ascent. After a short climb of no
great difficulty, merely pausing to chip a few steps out of the hard
crust of snow, we successively stepped safely on to the top of the
ridge. As each of my predecessors did so, I observed that he first
looked along the arête, then down the cliffs before him, and then
turned with a very blank expression of face to his neighbour. From our
feet the bare cliffs sank down, covered with loose rocks, but too
steep to hold more than patches of snow, and presenting right
dangerous climbing for many hundred feet towards the Grindelwald
glaciers. The arête offered a prospect not much better: a long ridge
of snow, sharp as the blade of a knife, was playfully alternated with
great rocky teeth, striking up through their icy covering, like the
edge of a saw. We held a council standing, and considered the
following propositions:--First, Lauener coolly proposed, and nobody
seconded, a descent of the precipices towards Grindelwald. This
proposition produced a subdued shudder from the travellers and a
volley of unreportable language from the Chamouni guides. It was
liable, amongst other things, to the trifling objection that it would
take us just the way we did not want to go. The Chamouni men now
proposed that we should follow the arête. This was disposed of by
Lauener's objection that it would take at least six hours. We should
have had to cut steps down the slope and up again round each of the
rocky teeth I have mentioned; and I believe that this calculation of
time was very probably correct. Finally, we unanimously resolved upon
the only course open to us--to descend once more into our little
valley, and thence to cut our way straight up the long slopes to the
shoulder of the Mönch.
"Considerably disappointed at this unexpected check, we retired to the
foot of the slopes, feeling that we had no time to lose, but still
hoping that a couple of hours more might see us at the top of the
pass. It was just eleven as we crossed a small bergschrund and began
the ascent. Lauener led the way to cut the steps, followed by the two
other guides, who deepened and polished them up. Just as we started, I
remarked a kind of bright tract drawn down the ice in front of us,
apparently by the frozen remains of some small rivulet which had been
trickling down it. I guessed it would take some fifty steps and
half-an-hour's work to reach it. We cut about fifty steps, however, in
the first half-hour, and were not a quarter of the way to my mark; and
as even when there we should not be half-way to the top, matters began
to look serious. The ice was very hard, and it was necessary, as
Lauener observed, to cut steps in it as big as soup-tureens, for the
result of a slip would in all probability have been that the rest of
our lives would have been spent in sliding down a snow-slope, and that
that employment would not have lasted long enough to become at all
monotonous. Time slipped by, and I gradually became weary of a sound
to which at first I always listened with pleasure--the chipping of the
axe, and the hiss of the fragments as they skip down the long incline
below us. Moreover, the sun was very hot, and reflected with
oppressive power from the bright and polished surface of the ice. I
could see that a certain flask was circulating with great steadiness
amongst the guides, and the work of cutting the steps seemed to be
extremely severe. I was counting the 250th step, when we at last
reached the little line I had been so long watching, and it even then
required a glance back at the long line of steps behind to convince
me that we had in fact made any progress. The action of resting one's
whole weight on one leg for about a minute, and then slowly
transferring it to the other, becomes wearisome when protracted for
hours. Still the excitement and interest made the time pass quickly. I
was in constant suspense lest Lauener should pronounce for a retreat,
which would have been not merely humiliating, but not improbably
dangerous, amidst the crumbling _séracs_ in the afternoon sun. I
listened with some amusement to the low moanings of little Charlet,
who was apparently bewailing his position to Croz, and being heartless
chaffed in return. One or two measurements with a clinometer of
Mathews' gave inclinations of 51° or 52°, and the slope was perhaps
occasionally a little more.
[Illustration: A VERY STEEP ICE SLOPE.]
[Illustration: HARD SNOW IN THE EARLY MORNING ON THE TOP OF A GLACIER
PASS NEARLY 12,000 FEET ABOVE SEA.]
"At last, as I was counting the 580th step, we reached a little patch
of rock, and felt ourselves once more on solid ground, with no small
satisfaction. Not that the ground was specially solid. It was a small
crumbling patch of rock, and every stone we dislodged went bounding
rapidly down the side of the slope, diminishing in apparent size till
it disappeared in the bergschrund, hundreds of feet below. However,
each of us managed to find some nook in which he could stow himself
away, whilst the Chamouni men took their turn in front, and cut steps
straight upwards to the top of the slope. By this means they kept
along a kind of rocky rib, of which our patch was the lowest point,
and we thus could occasionally get a footstep on rock instead of ice.
Once on the top of the slope, we could see no obstacle intervening
between us and the point over which our pass must lie.
"Meanwhile we meditated on our position. It was already four o'clock.
After twelve hours' unceasing labour, we were still a long way on the
wrong side of the pass. We were clinging to a ledge in the mighty
snow-wall which sank sheer down below us and rose steeply above our
heads. Beneath our feet the whole plain of Switzerland lay with a
faint purple haze drawn over it like a veil, a few green sparkles just
pointing out the Lake of Thun. Nearer, and apparently almost
immediately below us, lay the Wengern Alp, and the little inn we had
left twelve hours before, whilst we could just see the back of the
labyrinth of crevasses where we had wandered so long. Through a
telescope I could even distinguish people standing about the inn, who
no doubt were contemplating our motions. As we rested, the Chamouni
guides had cut a staircase up the slope, and we prepared to follow. It
was harder work than before, for the whole slope was now covered with
a kind of granular snow, and resembled a huge pile of hailstones. The
hailstones poured into every footstep as it was cut, and had to be
cleared out with hands and feet before we could get even a slippery
foothold. As we crept cautiously up this treacherous staircase, I
could not help reflecting on the lively bounds with which the stones
and fragments of ice had gone spinning from our last halting place
down to the yawning bergschrund below. We succeeded, however, in
avoiding their example, and a staircase of about one hundred steps
brought us to the top of the ridge, but at a point still at some
distance from the pass. It was necessary to turn along the arête
towards the Mönch. We were preparing to do this by keeping on the
snow-ridge, when Lauener, jumping down about 6 feet on the side
opposite to that by which we had ascended, lighted upon a little ledge
of rock, and called to us to follow. He assured us that it was
granite, and that therefore there was no danger of slipping. It was
caused by the sun having melted the snow on the southern side of the
ridge, so that it no longer quite covered the inclined plane of rock
upon which it rested. It was narrow and treacherous enough in
appearance at first; soon, however, it grew broader, and, compared
with our ice-climb, afforded capital footing. The precipice beneath us
thinned out as the Viescher Glacier rose towards our pass, and at last
we found ourselves at the edge of a little mound of snow, through
which a few plunging steps brought us, just at six o'clock, to the
long-desired shoulder of the Mönch.
"I cannot describe the pleasure with which we stepped at last on to
the little saddle of snow, and felt that we had won the victory."