THE TWINS
When mountains reach an altitude of over 13,000 feet, one does not
usually call them little. But the Twins, Castor and Pollux, are
so overshadowed by their massive neighbours, the Lyskamm and the
Breithorn, that one quite naturally refers to them in terms of the
diminutive. Dwarfed though they be by their mighty surroundings, they
are, nevertheless, every inch great mountains.
CASTOR
On August 15, 1909, H. A. Mantel, a fellow member of the Academic
Alpine Club of Zürich, and I were sunning ourselves on the rocks in
front of the Bétemps hut. Mantel, who had heard much of the joys of
ice-climbing during the last two weeks we had climbed together, was
filled with a keen desire to see for himself if it were really as
superior to rock work as I had made it out to be.
The north face of the Lyskamm was ruled out as being too big an effort
for the initiation of even such a willing proselyte as my companion.
Within easy reach of the Bétemps hut, however, is Castor, the higher of
the two twins and one of the most striking forms of Alpine beauty. Seen
from the north, it is a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and
ice, almost wholly unflecked by rock. The north face of this mountain
had never, as far as I knew, been ascended. Beyond the fact that Miss
K. Richardson with Émile Rey and Bich had descended its upper third or
half in 1890, I had not been able to trace the records of any other
explorers having visited Castor on this side. Long before the chill of
sunset drove us inside the hut, we had decided upon this climb for the
morrow.
Soon after midnight, snow ploughing parties for Monte Rosa began their
usual noisy preparations. We wallowed on in the luxury of superfluous
blankets and straw until 2 a.m., by which time the last party had left
the hut. At four o’clock, our fragile, early morning tempers were being
severely tried by the moraine leading down to the Grenz Glacier. Once
on the glacier, however, the stability of things under foot reasserted
itself, and a brisk, pleasant walk brought us to the foot of the
formidable icefall which separates the Grenz and Zwillings Glaciers.
We attacked the icefall in about the centre of its front and working
steadily upwards and to the right, in a westerly direction, fought step
by step for a way through the intricate mass of crevasses and séracs
which sought to impede our progress. Frequently we were unable to
find snow bridges and had to cross crevasses by descending into them
and then cutting up the other side. At the top of the icefall we were
pulled up short by a final crevasse which appeared to stretch without
a break from one side of the glacier to the other. A little searching,
however, revealed the presence of an extremely unpleasant-looking
bridge which seemed far too heavy for the slender supports by which
it was attached to the two sides of the crevasse. The sun, however,
had just risen, and everything was still well-frozen; so with due
precautions the rickety structure was called upon to lend us all the
assistance in its power. Beyond shedding a few icicles, which went
clinking down into the soul-shattering depths below, the bridge stood
up nobly. We now struck out in the direction of the Zwillingsjoch, as
the gap between Castor and Pollux is called. Gentle, undulating snow
slopes, broken here and there by enormous, but mostly well-bridged,
crevasses, provided easy going. Some of the crevasses in this part of
the glacier were so wide that we had to rope together at a distance
of rather over eighty feet in order to avoid the possibility of both
standing on the same bridge at the same time. A second icefall, tame in
comparison with the first, was passed through without difficulty, and
at 7.45 a.m. we stood at the foot of the north face of our mountain, at
a point due north of the summit.
[Illustration: _A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier._]
[Illustration: _Castor._
“... a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and ice” ....
_Facing page 154._
]
A halt was called for breakfast, and, after a welcome cigarette, we
put on our climbing irons. The bergschrund, which gaped widely open
to right and left of where we stood, was completely filled with snow
and ice--débris from the avalanches which pour off the north face
through a funnel whose opening meets the bergschrund just here. To
cross the schrund we had to cut steps, as the snow was too closely
packed and hard-frozen to admit of kicking. After cutting some sixty
steps, however, we were able to dispense with the use of the axe and
kicked our way rapidly upwards over steep slopes of frozen snow in
the direction of the north-east ridge of the mountain. This earlier
part of the ascent, for a distance of about a thousand feet from the
bergschrund, was accomplished in a remarkably short space of time, as
we were exposed to avalanches from a tier of ice cliffs that enfiladed
the funnel up which we were advancing. During the latter portion of the
ascent of these slopes, we gradually worked over to the east in order
to find a way round the extreme eastern edge of the ice cliffs. A flaw
in the cliffs, however, absolved us of the necessity of traversing
very far to the left, and we were soon able to strike straight up
towards the diminutive bergschrund which cuts into the north-east
ridge of Castor at a height of about 12,800 feet. Before reaching
this bergschrund, the general slope eased off considerably, and the
snow became powdery and deep. Once upon the gentler snow slopes, the
direction again changed, and we struck out towards Pollux, ploughing
a way slowly through the tiresome snow. In this fashion we arrived at
the bergschrund at a point directly below the north summit of Castor,
and paused for a few minutes’ rest before assaulting the final steep
slopes. So far, Mantel had not been unduly impressed with the supposed
difficulties of ice-climbing, but the very last slope was steep,
and I felt sure that we would meet with ice which would impede our
progress sufficiently to make him alter his opinion. But, once again,
the bergschrund was easily overcome, and, to my disappointment, we
were able to kick our way up beyond it without cutting a single step.
The snow was perfect. Not until we were within a rope’s length of the
north summit did we meet with ice. The slope here was considerable;
but after a quarter of an hour’s hard step-cutting even this final
part of the ascent was accomplished. At 11 a.m. we stood on the north
summit and a few minutes later had crossed the easy snow ridge leading
to the highest point (13,878 ft.), where we arrived in a little over
seven hours after leaving the Bétemps hut. The conditions had been
exceptionally favourable, save in so far as the first icefall on the
Zwillings Glacier was concerned. I have only heard of one other ascent
of Castor by this route, and that by a strong guided party who were in
all, from hut to summit, eleven hours, some eight hours of which was
occupied in step-cutting. This fact shows plainly enough that, with
unfavourable conditions, the climb can be quite a severe and laborious
one.
The day was fine and all but windless. We were in no hurry to get back
to the hut; so, seeking a comfortable perch on the rocks overlooking
the Italian side of the mountain, we indulged in a protracted summit
rest of over two hours.
The descent over the Felikhorn to the Felik Pass was without incident.
Shortly after leaving the pass, the snow became wet and soft, and
being only two, we had to exert great care in picking our way round
the innumerable gigantic crevasses which intersect the upper slopes
of the glacier. With the exception of some on Mont Blanc, I do not
think I have ever seen such huge crevasses as those met with during
this descent. At 4 p.m. we had safely regained our morning track, just
where it emerged from the tangle of the lower icefall of the Zwillings
Glacier. The passage of the delicate bridge, which appeared to provide
the only means of crossing the first big crevasse, was attended with
a certain amount of anxiety; but by crawling on all fours so as to
distribute one’s weight as equally as possible, and otherwise showing
due respect to our decaying friend bridging the gaping depths beneath,
the passage was successfully accomplished. The rest of the work, which
consisted in further following our morning tracks through the maze of
séracs and crevasses leading down to the Grenz Glacier, offered no
serious difficulty. At 5.30 p.m. we were once more back in the Bétemps
hut.
POLLUX.
Liniger, one of the ablest of the younger members of the A.A.C.Z., and
I went up to the Bétemps hut on August 17, 1919, with the intention
of climbing the north ridge of Pollux. Heavy snow had fallen, and the
possibility of carrying out a big climb was out of the question. Not
seeing, however, why this should materially affect our prospects of
being able to get in somewhere or other a good day’s ice work, we had
consulted Dübi’s guide book to the Pennine Alps, to find therein no
recorded ascent of Pollux by the north ridge.
Since traversing Monte Rosa in 1911, this was my first visit to the
Bétemps hut. The hut had been slightly enlarged, but otherwise I found
everything much the same. It seemed almost incredible that eight years
had elapsed since I had last watched the setting sun tinge with red the
summits of that glorious line of peaks which runs from the Matterhorn
to the Weisshorn. Numerous other parties arrived at the hut towards the
end of the day, and, in order not to impede their preparations for a
meal, we turned in to sleep at a fairly early hour.
At 2 a.m. on August 18, 1919, we were up just in time to see the
tail-end of numerous Monte Rosa parties disappear. They took with them
their unsated curiosity as to our intentions, for, having our doubts as
to the possibility of winning through on our climb, we had refrained
from giving them any inkling of our intentions. Shortly after 3 a.m. we
were ready to move off and descended over the moraine on to the Gorner
Glacier, across which we struck in a due westerly direction. Several
times we trod through into concealed pools of icy water and got our
feet thoroughly soaked. It was still dark when we arrived at the steep
moraine which marks the beginning of the north ridge of Pollux; and in
the fitful light of the lantern, the ascent of this moraine, composed
of mud and loose stones poised at an almost impossible angle, was
little short of misery. At last, however, its summit was attained, and
progress became better. Later on, where the moraine fizzled out into
snow slopes, the light of day enabled us to dispense with the lantern,
and we put on the rope. Proceeding up these snow slopes, dodging an
occasional crevasse, we kept steadily on in the direction of the
depression which lies a few yards due north of the first of the three
prominent humps on the north ridge. We stood in this depression at 5
a.m. and immediately began the attack on the steep ice bulge which
defends the approach to the next hump.
At first we mounted rapidly over fairly steep slopes covered with
excellent snow. These, however, gave out as the slope increased,
and we were reduced to cutting in bare ice. This proved to be of an
extraordinarily tough consistency. It was dark grey, at times almost
black in colour, and frequently the only result that a blow from
the axe accomplished was to make a small hole, from which the pick
tenaciously refused to be removed except at the cost of much twisting
and pulling. In all, we had to cut about one hundred and sixty steps;
but, for the reasons I have mentioned, progress was inordinately
slow. Towards the top of the slope, we were able to save much work by
making use of the irregularities in the sides of a crevasse which cut
vertically into the ice. Once above the steeper portions of the slope,
good snow led up to the summit of the middle hump (nearly 12,000 ft.)
which we reached at 7.15 a.m.
The third hump is about six hundred feet higher up, and the ridge
connecting it with the point on which we now stood was in part heavily
corniced. We therefore kept fairly well to the west of the ridge, but
had to pay dearly for doing so; there was a great accumulation of new
snow, and the work of stamping was heavy.
By 8.30 a.m. we had passed round and slightly below the third hump,
and gained the foot of the final slopes into which the north ridge of
Pollux broadens out ere it reaches the summit. The next obstacle in our
way was an extremely unpleasant-looking bergschrund surmounted by an
enormously steep ice wall some seventy to eighty feet in height. At a
first glance, it appeared doubtful as to whether this obstacle could be
overcome, so we wisely decided to call a brief halt in order to recruit
our strength.
At 8.45 a.m., leaving my knapsack with Liniger and taking in exchange
his axe, I started out to see what could be done with our formidable
antagonist. By standing on the lower lip of the bergschrund and pushing
both axes up to the hilt into the good snow on the other side, I was
able to haul myself across and kick a somewhat precarious foothold.
Still making use of Liniger’s axe as a handhold and cutting steps
with my own, I succeeded in securing a better purchase on the steep
slope leading upwards from the upper lip. The angle of this slope was
certainly over sixty degrees; yet, in spite of this, it was hung with
vast quantities of dry, powdery snow. To obtain a foothold without
first sweeping this away and then cutting steps in the ice below, was
impossible. To the right, a few yards higher up, a flake of ice had
become partially detached from the wall, and, after gaining this, I
was able to find sufficiently good standing ground for Liniger to
follow. The next hundred feet consisted of perfectly straightforward
cutting, though the ice was still very steep and covered with masses
of soft, new snow that had to be swept down prior to the hewing out of
each step. The cold was considerable, and Liniger began to complain of
losing sensation in his feet. For my part, I did not suffer from cold,
as I was wearing Norwegian ski-ing boots, inside of which were three
pairs of thick woollen socks. Frost-bite would have been a most serious
matter at this point of the climb, so we made every effort to gain the
gentler slopes at the foot of the final wall below the summit. At 10
a.m. we reached these slopes which stretch in the form of a terrace
almost across the whole of the north face of Pollux. Firmly digging
in the axes and belaying our ropes round them, we sat down and, after
removing Liniger’s boots, proceeded to inspect the damage, if any. To
our relief, animation was restored by vigorous and prolonged rubbing,
and we replaced his sodden socks with a dry pair which he was fortunate
enough to have in his knapsack.
The weather, which up till now had been clear, began to assume a
doubtful aspect. A westerly wind was sweeping masses of cloud towards
us from the Breithorn, and occasionally we were enveloped in mist. As
neither of us knew anything whatever about the descent of Pollux, it
was clear that we had no more time to lose. Liniger took the lead and,
dashing furiously ahead, kicked his way up the final slopes, until
bare ice breaking through the snow rendered this method of progress
no longer possible. Once more the interminable step-cutting became
necessary. A small bergschrund was passed almost without its presence
being noticed. The final slope is steep and consists of pure ice, but
we found it covered by the same incohesive masses of new snow which
had so impeded our progress lower down. Liniger worked valiantly, and,
in spite of the circumstances, we made comparatively rapid progress.
Long before reaching the summit, we were shrouded in driving, clammy
mist, and the cold became bitter. It was not until 12.30 p.m. that we
eventually reached the top (13,432 ft.). We had been almost nine and a
half hours on the way, of which time little more than half an hour had
been spent in resting. But we were by no means out of our troubles.
Having got up, it now remained to be seen how we were to get down.
Neither of us had any desire to return by the way we had come, for
the idea of a descent of the last formidable bergschrund in doubtful
weather was not exactly to our liking. We knew that a comparatively
easy line of descent lay down a ridge somewhere to the south-west of
the summit; but the difficulty was how to find the beginning of this
ridge in the intense mists. However, it was no good remaining on the
summit itself and waiting for the mists to clear; there seemed no
prospect of that happening within a reasonable time. Taking a compass
bearing, therefore, I set off in a south-westerly direction, with
Liniger bringing up the rear. It was impossible to survey the slopes
for more than a yard or two ahead, and, after having descended some
distance in this manner, we gave up the search for the south-west
ridge and, turning due west, gained some rocks which, as it transpired
later, lie on the west face of the mountain. Their appearance was
far from prepossessing. They were extremely steep and slabby, but on
the principle of a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush, we
decided to venture down. The rocks did not belie their appearance.
They proved to be difficult and were thoroughly plastered up with ice
and snow. On several occasions we resorted to the use of the doubled
rope. A steep, slabby gully ending in an overhang brought us to the
top of a tremendously steep ice slope, the first sixty feet of which
we descended by means of the doubled rope. Thence, after cutting steps
towards a rib of rocks, we descended this, and, plunging down final
slopes of soft snow, crossed the bergschrund on to the glacier at a
point immediately south of the Schwarztor.
The mists now cleared and revealed to us the west wall of Pollux, down
which we had just found a way. It would be difficult to imagine a more
unprepossessing line of descent, especially when one considers how much
ice and snow lay about on the rocks. However, we had nothing to grumble
about now, as our difficulties were over in so far as getting off the
actual peak was concerned; and, in addition, we had, thanks to the
mist, even descended by a new route! That trouble was still in store
for us we were aware, because we had noticed that the huge icefall
in the Schwärze Glacier was in bad condition. Knowing that we might
experience considerable delay in passing through this icefall, and not
wishing to run the risk of a bivouac, we lost no time in traversing
round to the Schwarztor and crossed over the pass at 3 p.m. The weather
showed distinct signs of improvement, and occasionally we obtained
fitful glimpses of the sun through breaks in the mist. Such breaks
were welcome, for it was sometimes difficult to detect the presence
of crevasses when the sun was obscured. As elsewhere, the glacier was
laden with fresh snow, and frequently we sank in knee-deep. On leaving
the Schwarztor, we descended the glacier practically in the direction
of the Gornergrat and met with no serious opposition until arriving at
the upper edge of the great icefall. An attempt to break through on the
right failed ignobly, and we were reduced to retracing our steps for
some considerable distance. Another attempt was then made, this time
through the centre of the icefall; but, although we managed to make
some headway, a huge wall, from which it would have been impossible to
rope down without sacrificing an axe, again blocked all possibility
of further descent. Once more we were forced to retrace our steps.
Our third attempt proved lucky; we found a way out by crossing a most
unpleasant crevasse and traversing along its lower edge. Finally,
crossing some broken slopes and running the gauntlet of possible fire
from several séracs of doubtful stability, we reached the open glacier.
Passing over this and the moraine on the far side, we soon gained our
tracks of the morning and, at 6.30 p.m., were once more back at the
Bétemps hut.