AN EXCITING CAUCASIAN ASCENT
The following account of the ascent of Gestola, in the Central Caucasus,
is taken from _The Alpine Journal_, and the author, Mr C. T. Dent, has
most kindly revised it for this work, and has added a note as follows:
"At the time (1886) when this expedition was made, the topography of the
district was very imperfectly understood. The mountain climbed was
originally described as Tetnuld Tau--Tau = Mountain. Since the
publication of the original paper a new survey of the whole district has
been carried out by the Russian Government and the nomenclature much
altered. The peak of Tetnuld is really to the south of Gestola. The
nomenclature has in the following extract been altered so as to
correspond with that at present in use and officially sanctioned."
The party consisted of Mr Dent, the late Mr W. F. Donkin, and two Swiss
guides. They had safely accomplished the first part of their ascent of a
hitherto unclimbed peak, and were on the ridge and face to face with
the problem of how to reach the highest point. After describing the
glorious scenery which lay around them, Mr Dent writes:
"Woven in between all these peaks lay a wilderness of crevassed slopes,
jagged rock ridges, and stretching glaciers, bewildering in their beauty
and complexity. To see the wondrous sights that were crowded into those
few minutes while we remained on the ridge, we would willingly have gone
five times further and fared ten times worse. In high spirits we turned
to the left (S.S.E.), and began our journey along the ridge which was to
lead us to Gestola, ever keeping an eye on the snowy form of Tetnuld,
and marvelling whether it would overtop our peak or not. For a few
steps, and for a few only, all went well. The snow was in good order on
the ridge, but we had to leave this almost immediately and make S.W. in
order to skirt the heights which still intervened between us and our
peak. The ice began to change its character. Two or three steps were cut
with a few strokes of the axe, and then all went well again for a time.
Then more steps, and a more ringing sound as the axe fell. We seemed,
too, however we might press on, to make no impression on this first
slope. Our doubt returned; the leader paused, drew up the rope, and bit
at a fragment of ice as he gazed anxiously upwards over the face. No! we
were on the right track, and must stick to it if we would succeed. For
an hour and a quarter we kept at it in silence, save for the constant
ringing blows of the axe. Our courage gradually oozed out, for when we
had worked back to the ridge again, we seemed to have made no progress
at all. The top of the mountain far above was already swathed in cloud,
and a distant storm on the south side was only too obvious. Another
little peak was won before we looked about again, but the summit seemed
no nearer. The exertion had begun to tell and the pace became slower.
Some one remarked that he felt hungry, and we all thereupon realised our
empty state, so we fortified ourselves for further efforts on a dainty
repast of steinbock, black bread a week old, and water--invigorating
victuals and exhilarating drink, rather appropriate to the treadmill
kind of exercise demanded. It is under conditions such as these that
strange diet tells on the climber; but even more trying and more
weakening than the poor quality of the food was the want of sleep from
which we had suffered for a good many nights. In the language of
science, our vital force and nervous energy were becoming rather rapidly
exhausted, or, to put it more colloquially and briefly, we were awfully
done. Three hours more at least was the estimate, and meanwhile the
weather was growing worse and worse. Reflecting that all points fall to
him who knows how to wait and stick to it, we pressed on harder to
escape from the dispiriting thoughts that suggested themselves, and
almost of a sudden recognised that the last of the deceptive little tops
had been left behind us, and that we were fighting our way up the final
peak. Better still, Tetnuld, which for so long had seemed to tower above
us, was fast sinking in importance, and there really seemed now, as we
measured the peak with the clinometer between the intervals of
step-cutting, to be little difference between the two points. The air
was so warm and oppressive that we were able to dispense with gloves.
One of the guides suffered from intense headache, but the rest of us, I
fancy, felt only in much the same condition as a man does at the finish
of a hard-run mile race. The clouds parted above us for a while,
mysteriously, as it seemed, for there was no wind to move them; but we
could only see the slope stretching upwards, and still upwards. Yet we
could not be far off now. Again we halted for a few seconds, and as we
glanced above, we mentally took stock of our strength, for there was no
question the pleasure had been laborious. Some one moved, and we were
all ready on the instant. To it once more, and to the very last victory
was doubtful. True, the summit had seemed close enough when the last
break in the swirling clouds had enabled us to catch a glimpse of what
still towered above; but our experience of Swiss snow mountains was
long enough to make us sceptical as to apparent tops, and possibly the
Caucasian giants were as prone to deceive as the human pigmies that
crawled and burrowed at their bases.
"Still anxious, still questioning success, we stepped on, and the pace
increased as the doubt persisted. It is often said to be impossible, by
those who don't try, to explain why the second ascent of a mountain
always appears so much easier than the first; some explanation may be
found in the fact that on a virgin peak the uncertainty is really
increasing during the whole time, and the climax comes in the last few
seconds. Every step upwards make success more probable, and at the same
time, would make failure more disappointing. In fact, the only periods
when we are morally certain of success on a new expedition are before
the start and when victory is actually won. Still, we could hardly
believe that any insuperable obstacle would now turn us back; yet all
was new and uncertain, and the conditions of weather intensified the
anxiety. The heavy stillness of the air seemed unnatural, and made the
mind work quicker. The sensibility became so acute that if we ceased
working and moving for a moment the silence around was unendurable, and
seemed to seize hold of us. A distant roll of thunder came almost as a
relief. A step or two had to be cut, and the delay appeared
interminable. Suddenly, a glimpse of a dark patch of rocks appeared
above looming through the mist. The slope of the ridge became more
gentle for a few yards. Our attention was all fixed above, and we
ascended some distance without noticing the change. Another short rise,
and we were walking quickly along the ridge. We stopped suddenly; the
rocks we had seen so recently, had sunk below us on our left, while in
front the _arête_ could be followed with the eye, sloping away gradually
for a few yards, and then plunging sharply down to a great depth. It was
all over; through fair weather and through foul we had succeeded; and
there was yet another peak to the credit of the Alpine Club.
[Illustration: A TYPICAL CAUCASIAN LANDSCAPE.
_To face_ p. 105.
By Signor Vittorio Sella.]
"It was not a time for words. Burgener turned to us and touched the snow
with his hand, and we sat down in silence. Almost on the instant as we
took our places a great burst of thunder rolled and echoed around--a
grim salvo of Nature's artillery. The sudden sense of rest heightened
the effect of the oppressive stillness that followed. Never have I felt
the sense of isolation so complete. Gazing in front into the thin mists,
the very presence of my companions seemed an unreality. The veil of
wreathing vapour screened the huge panorama of the ice-world from our
sight. The black thunderclouds drifting sullenly shut out the world
below. No man knew where we were; we had reached our furthest point
in a strange land. We were alone with Nature, far from home, and far
from all that we were familiar with. Strange emotions thrilled the frame
and quickened the pulse. Weird thoughts crowded through the mind--it was
not a time for words. Believe me, under such conditions a man will see
further across the threshold of the unknown than all the book-reading or
psychological speculation in the world will ever reveal to him.
"Coming back to considerations more prosaic and practical, we found that
it was 1.15 P.M. We realised, too, that the ascent had been very
laborious and exhausting, while there was no doubt that evil times were
in store for us. There were no rocks at hand to build a cairn, but we
reflected that the snow was soft, and that our footsteps would easily be
seen on the morrow. The aneroid marked the height we had attained as
16,550 feet.[4] A momentary break in the mist gave us a view of Dych
Tau, and we had just time to get a compass observation. After a stay of
fifteen minutes we rose and girded ourselves for the descent. I think we
all felt that the chief difficulty was yet to come, but we had little
idea of what was actually to follow. Directly after we had left the
summit a few puffs of wind began to play around and some light snow
fell. Still, it was not very cold, and if the storm would only keep its
distance all might be well. Down the first slope we made our way rapidly
enough, and could have gone faster had we not deemed it wise to husband
our strength as much as possible. In an hour and twenty minutes we
reached the place where we had left the provisions and the camera. The
feast was spread, but did not find favour. Never did food look so
revolting. The bread seemed to have turned absolutely black, while the
steinbock meat looked unfit to keep company with garbage in a gutter; so
we packed it up again at once, more from a desire to hide it from our
eyes than from any idea that it might look more appetising later on.
Andenmatten's headache had become much worse, and he could scarcely at
starting stand steady in his steps. Possibly his suffering was due to an
hour or two of intensely hot sun, which had struck straight down on us
during the ascent. I could not at the moment awaken much professional
interest in his case, but the symptoms, so far as I could judge, were
more like those experienced by people in diving-bells--were pressure
effects in short--for the pain was chiefly in the skull cavities. I may
not here enter into technical details, and can only remark now that
though Andenmatten suffered the most it by no means followed on that
account that his head was emptier than anybody else's. In due course we
came to the ice-slope up and across which we had cut our way so
laboriously in the morning; here, at least, we thought we should make
good progress with little trouble; but the sun had struck full on this
part of the mountain, and all the steps were flattened out and useless.
Every single step ought to have been worked at with as much labour as in
the morning, but it was impossible to do more than just scratch out a
slight foothold, as we made our way round again to the ridge. Below, on
the west side, the slope plunged down into the Ewigkeit, and our very
best attention had to be given in order to avoid doing the same. It was
one of the worst snow faces I ever found myself on, perhaps, under the
conditions, the worst. The direction in which we were travelling and the
angle of the slope made the rope utterly useless. Close attention is
very exhausting: much more exertion is required to walk ten steps,
bestowing the utmost possible care on each movement, than to walk a
hundred up or down a much steeper incline when the angle demands a more
accustomed balance. Not for an instant might we relax our vigilance
till, at 5.30 P.M., we reached once more the ridge close to the place
where we had forced our way through the cornice in the morning.
"We had little time to spare, and hurrying up to the point, looked
anxiously down the snow wall. A glance was sufficient to show that the
whole aspect of the snow had entirely altered since the morning.
Burgener's expression changed suddenly, and a startled exclamation,
which I trust was allowed to pass unrecorded, escaped from him.
Andenmatten brought up some stones and rolled them down over the edge;
each missile carried down a broad hissing band of the encrusting snow
which had given us foot-hold in the morning, and swept the ice-slope
beneath as black and bare as a frozen pond; here and there near rocks
the stones stopped and sank deeply and gently into the soft, treacherous
compound. The light had begun to fail, and snow was falling more heavily
as we pressed on to try for some other line of descent. A hundred yards
further along the ridge we looked over again; the condition of the snow
was almost the same, but the wall was steeper, and looked at its very
worst as seen through the mist. Some one now suggested that we might
work to the north-west end of the ridge and make our way down to the
pass by the ice-fall. We tramped on as hard as possible, only to find at
the end of our journey that the whole mass seemed abruptly cut away far
above the Adine Col, and no line of descent whatever was visible. We
doubled back on our tracks till we came within a few yards of the summit
of a small peak on the ridge, the height of which was probably not less
than 15,000 feet. Already the cold was numbing and our wet clothes began
to stiffen; again we peered over the wall, but the rocks were glazed,
snow-covered, and impossible. The leader stopped, looked right and left
along the ridge, and said, 'I don't know what to do!' For the moment we
seemed hopelessly entrapped; the only conceivable place of shelter for
the night was a patch of rocks close to the summit of the peak near at
hand, and for these we made. It was an utter waste of time. Apart from
sleeping, we could not have remained there an hour, for we met the full
force of the wind, which by this time had risen considerably, and was
whirling the driving snow into every crack and cranny. What might have
begun as a temporary rest would infallibly have ended in a permanent
occupation. Indeed, the cold would have been far too intense that night
for us to have lived on any part of the bleak ridge. The situation was
becoming desperate. 'We must get down off the ridge and out of the
wind.' 'Ay,' said Burgener, 'we must, I know; but where?' The
circumstances did not call for reasonable answers, and so we said,
'Anywhere! To stay up here now means that we shall never get down at
all.' Burgener looked up quickly as if to say no, but hesitated, and
then muttered, 'That is true. Then what will you do? There is no way
down anywhere along the wall with the snow as it is now. There are great
ice-slopes a little way down.' As he spoke he leant over and looked
along the wall for confirmation of his opinions. A little way off a rib
of rock, blacker than the rest, showed through the mist. We both saw it
at the same time; Burgener hesitated, looked at it again, and then
facing round glanced at the prospect above. The wind was stronger and
colder and the snow was driving more heavily. There was no room for
doubt. We must put it to the touch and take the risk. We turned again,
and in a few minutes had squeezed ourselves through the cornice, and
were fairly launched on the descent.
"We were now at a much higher level on the ridge than at the point we
had struck in ascending. It was only possible to see a few yards down;
the rocks looked appallingly steep, glazed, and grizzly, and we knew not
what we were coming to. But at any rate we were moving, and in a stiller
atmosphere soon forgot the cold. We went fast, but only by means of
doing all we knew, for the climbing was really difficult. It was a case
of every man for himself, and every man for the rest of the party. Now
was the time to utilise all that we had ever learned of mountain craft.
Never before, speaking for myself only, have I felt so keenly the
pleasure of being united to thoroughly trustworthy and good
mountaineers; it was like the rush of an eight-oar, where the sense of
motion and the swish through the water alone are sufficient to make
every member of the crew put all his strength into each stroke. The mind
was too active to appreciate the pain of fatigue, and so we seemed
strong again. Now on the rocks, which were loose and crumbly in parts,
elsewhere big and glazed, now in deep snow, now on hard crusts, we
fought our way down. So rapid was the descent that, when the opportunity
offered, we looked anxiously through the mist in the hope of seeing the
glacier beneath. Surely we had hit on a possible line of descent to the
very bottom. But there was not a moment for the grateful repose so often
engendered by enquiring minds on the mountains. We were racing against
time, or at least against the malevolent powers of darkness. Down a
narrow flat couloir of rock of no slight difficulty we seemed to go with
perfect ease, but the rocks suddenly ceased and gave way to an
ill-favoured snow-slope. The leader stopped abruptly and turned sharp to
the right. A smooth ice-gully some 30 feet wide separated us from the
next ridge of rock. The reason for the change of direction was evident
enough when Burgener pointed it out. As long as the line of descent kept
to the side that was more sheltered during the day from the sun, so
long was the snow fairly good. Our leader judged quickly, and with the
soundest reasoning, as it proved directly afterwards, that the line we
had been following would infallibly lead, if pursued further, to snow as
treacherous as that with which we were now so familiar. Across the
ice-slope then we must cut, perhaps a dozen or fifteen steps.
"The first two or three Burgener made vigorously enough, but when within
10 or 15 feet of the rocks the extra effort told. He faltered suddenly;
his blow fell listlessly, and he leant against the slope, resting hands
and head on his axe. 'I am almost exhausted,' he said faintly, as he
turned round to us, while his quivering hands and white lips bore
evidence to the severity of the exertion. So for a minute or two we
stood in our tracks. A word of encouragement called up what seemed
almost a last effort, some little notches were cut, and we gained the
rocks again. A trickling stream of water was coursing down a slab of
rock, and at this we gulped as eagerly as a fevered patient. Standing on
the projecting buttress, we looked anxiously down, and caught sight at
last of the glacier. It seemed close to us; the first few steps showed
that Burgener's judgment was right; he had changed the line of descent
at exactly the right moment, and at the best possible place. Down the
last few hundred feet we were able to go as fast as before. The level
glacier beneath seemed in the darkness to rise up suddenly and meet us.
We tumbled over the _bergschrund_, ran down a short slope on the farther
side of it, and stood in safety on the glacier, saved by as fine a piece
of guiding as I have ever seen in the mountains. We looked up at the
slope. To our astonishment all was clear, and I daresay had been so for
long. Above, in a blue-black frosty sky, the stars were winking merrily;
the mists had all vanished as by magic. No doubt the cold, which would
have settled us had we stayed on the ridge, assisted us materially in
the descent by improving the snow.
"There seemed still just light enough to search for our tracks of the
morning across the glacier, and we bore well to the right in the hope of
crossing them. I fancy that the marks would have been really of little
use, but, anyhow, we could not find them, and so made a wide sweep
across the upper part of the snow basin. As a result we were soon in
difficulty with the crevasses, and often enough it seemed probable that
we should spend the rest of the night in wandering up and down searching
for snow bridges. But we reached at last a patch of shale and rock,
which we took to be the right bank of the little glacier we had crossed
in the morning. Our clothes were wet, and the cold was becoming so sharp
that it was wisely decided, against my advice, to push on if possible
to the tent at once. For some three or four hours did we blunder and
stumble over the moraine, experiencing not a few tolerably severe falls
as we did so. Andenmatten selected his own line of descent, and in a few
minutes we had entirely lost sight of him. It was too dark to find our
way across the glacier, and we could only hope by following the loose
stone ridge to make our way to the right place. So we stuck to the
rocks, occasionally falling and nearly sticking on their detestably
sharp points. Even a Caucasian moraine leads somewhere if you keep to it
long enough, and as we turned a corner, the huge glimmering mass of Dych
Tau, towering up in front, showed that the end of our journey was not
far off. Presently the little white outline of the tent appeared, but we
regarded it with apathy, and made no effort to quicken our movements,
although the goal was in sight; it seemed to require, in our
semi-comatose condition, almost an effort to stop. As we threw open the
door of the tent the welcome sight of divers packets, neatly arranged in
a corner, met our gaze. The head policeman had proved himself an honour
to his sex, an exception to his compatriots, and a credit to the force.
There were bread, sugar, rice, meat, and firewood--yet we neither spoke
nor were moved. Andenmatten spurned the parcels with his foot and
revealed the lowermost. A scream of delight went up, for they had found
a packet of tobacco. The spell was broken, and once more all were
radiant. Such is man. A strange compound--I refer to the tobacco--it
proved to be, that would neither light nor smoke, and possessed as its
sole property the power of violently disagreeing with the men. It was
past midnight before the expedition was over. There were few
preliminaries observed before going to bed. I don't think that even
Donkin took more than a quarter of an hour in arranging a couch to his
satisfaction, and placing a very diminutive air-cushion on anatomical
principles in exactly the right place, while Andenmatten was fast asleep
in two minutes, his head pillowed gently on some cold mutton, and his
boots reposing under the small of his back. Something weighed on our
minds as we too lay down and tried to sleep. The towering cone of
Tetnuld, the distant view of Uschba, Elbruz, and the giant Dych Tau, the
rock and snow-slopes, pictured themselves one after another as
dissolving views on the white walls of the tent. The expedition was
over, but the pleasure and the impressions it had evoked were not.
Faster and faster followed the visions as in delirium. I sat up, and in
the excitement of the moment dealt a great blow at the nearest object,
which, as it chanced, was Andenmatten's ribs. I shouted out to my
companion. A muffled 'hulloa' was the response, and he too rose up.
'What is it?' 'By Heavens! it is the finest climb we have ever made.'
And so it was."