Two Seasons in Switzerland ... With illustrations from photographs by O. Williamson

Front matter

TWO SEASONS IN SWITZERLAND " Kin Stuck " von Monte Rosa. Two Seasons IN Switzerland BY DR. HERBERT MARSH, R.N. ' MEMBER OF THE ALPINE CLUB WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY O. WILLIAMSON Qonbon T. FISHER UNWIN PATERNOSTER SQUARE MDCCCXCV All rights reserved. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 1. " ein stuck " von monte eosa . Frontispiece 2. view from the grete de millon facing page 25 3. VIEW FROM WIESSHORN, LOOKING NORTH ,, 50 4. MATTERHORN, FROM THE COL D'HERENS ,, 74 5. ABOVE THE CLOUDS . . . . ,, 103 6. BIETSCHORN, FROM THE SCHAFBERG . ,, 121 7. JEAN MAITRE OF EVOLENA . . . ,, 140 8. A HUGE CORNICE. MISCHABELHORNER IN THE distance .... facing page 185 9. A NIGHT BIVOUAC . . . .- „ 189 10. AIGUILLE DE LA ZA . . . . ,, 228 > i 11. THE S.W. ARETE OF DENT BLANCHE . ,, 23fi ■> 12. GRAND COMBIN, FROM THE CORBASSIERE GLACIER facing page

Introduction

. Foe many years I had taken great interest in reading descriptions of mountaineering and adventures in the Alps, and it had, in fact, become one of my chief ambitions in life to attempt something in the climbing line myself, if only to try and make out whether the delight and fascination were really as great as the nar rators made them out to be. Circumstances, however, in the shape of ser vice afloat, made its gratification impossible for several years, and it was not until I was serving in one of Her Majesty's ships in the Mediter ranean, early in June, 1887, that I made the nearer acquaintance of those mountains whose snowy summits I had seen from Venice and Milan. My first mountain was the Pizzo Centrale, a peak close to the St. Gotthard, which, though under ten thousand feet high, presented so early in the season all the features of a real snow mountain, and impressed me greatly. An interregnum then occurred, but in 1890

INTRODUCTION.

. 6 and 1891 I renewed my acquaintance with the Alps, visiting Kandersteg, that lovely spot Champex, the Val de Bagnes and Saas, at all of which places I made the regulation ascents in the regulation way, and which served to put a keener edge on my already sharp appetite for mountaineering. The description of expeditions which follows is based on notes taken at the time, and has served to while away many a weary hour on board ship, recalling at the same time the delights, difficulties, and dangers of expeditions and climbs, with and without guides, amid mountains which, although every day becoming more and more hackneyed and overrun with railways, can still draw like magnets all those who have once come under their wondrous influence. Truly as Littledale says: "The Great Peaks are sorcerers whose spell no man can resist, and a feeling that every manly quality in you has been tried to the utmost and has borne the strain, is worth more than all the cruel toil endured." HEEBEET MAESH. H.M.S. Northampton, Chatham. *&^gg&*'

Chapter I

Zekmatt on the glorious first of June ! For glorious it was, as I sat in the garden of the Zermatterhof gazing at Matterhorn and wondering if I should ever be strong enough again to attack it. I was slowly recovering from the effects of Malta fever in the shape of sciatica, and after a boiling down at Aix les-bains had come, listless and limp, to try and get braced up at Zermatt. The Zermatterhof was at that time of year the only hotel open, and I don't suppose we sat down more than twenty at table d'hote, nearly all English, and amongst whom was Mrs. Main, who had just arrived from her winter quarters at St. Moritz. Gradually the glorious air asserted its in fluence, and on the 9th I got as far as the Riffel Alp, and spent hours on the steps of that re nowned hotel drinking in the matchless view.

Walk rapidly succeeded walk, and with my sister or Dr. Tidey of Montreux I visited all the well-known points around, till at last on the 16th we got as far as the ruined hut on the Stockje. On the way back from it, whilst passing beneath the ice-crowned cliffs of the Matter horn, a huge mass broke away from the glacier directly above us and crashed down the rocks, some of the shattered blocks bounding down the snow-slope below as far as the moraine, on to the top of which we had scrambled as fast as we could, thus showing that it was not without reason that Conway in his " Zermatt Pocket book " warns travellers to keep as far away from the cliffs as possible. At last on the 19th I felt myself strong enough for something better, and having en gaged Gabriel Taugwalder to be my guide, philosopher, and friend for the next ten days, I rubbed the rust off my axe and prepared for the campaign.

The first point of attack was the Untergabel horn, which we assaulted by the usual route on the 20th. It was a broiling hot morning already when we started at a quarter to six, just an hour later than intended, owing to the discovery at the last minute of a " crevasse " in one of my boots, which had to be seen to, and consequently the sun smote us with full force as we toiled up the long grass slopes above the village. Fortunately I had brought with me an old Indian friend in the shape of a white umbrella, and was able to bid defiance to his beams. It being his first expedition of the season, Gabriel was very soft, and perspiration poured in streams down his brown face, and copious were the draughts of water and wine he imbibed. Patches of snow were frequent long before we quitted the turf, and further on we ploughed through a soft field of the same to the foot of the couloir on the south side of the mountain, which in August, Gabriel told me, is merely a wide slope of stony debris.

The snow in this couloir was deep as well as soft, and cost us a pretty hard struggle ere we gained the ridge at its summit. Here we left the grub and our axes, and tackled the rocks, which presented no difficulty except just below the top, where the slabs with fissures running horizontally across them re minded me strongly of the cap on the lesser Pyramid. From the summit, which we reached exactly at ten, we had a magnificent view of Matter horn right opposite ; and again I wondered if I should ever try conclusions with that hoary giant. On the way down, after getting clear of the couloir, we had some rattling glissades over old beds of snow down the south side of the mountain until we reached an ancient watercourse, which we followed round to the east almost as far as our morning's track, by which we regained the hotel at two o'clock.

Zermatt was now commencing to fill, for both the Mt. Cervin and Monte Rosa had opened their doors, while signs of activity in the street, and the arrival of a coiffeur from Lausanne, all betokened the beginning of the season. On the following day, June 21st, I made my first attempt on that mountain so dear to trippers, the Breithorn. Unfortunately I was unable to secure the services of that arch im postor Biner, who, from his numerous ascents of it, has gained the sobriquet of " Breithorn," to distinguish him from the other guides of the same name. I'm convinced my repeated bad luck on this mountain — for I've made no less than three attempts to ascend it — has been entirely due to my not having retained that worthy as chief guide. On this occasion, my sister, Gabriel, and I reached the little inn on the Theodule at 5 p.m., and spent some time after dinner watching the glories of sunset on the snows of Monte Rosa till the increasing cold drove us to bed.

During the night, however, one of those sudden changes so frequent in the Alps took place in the weather, for when I was called at three o'clock it was raining hard, and there was nothing for it but to return to bed. At seven, however, with provoking fickleness the rain ceased, the clouds rolled away, and all around glistened in the bright sunshine. Having paid the bill, a precious stiff one I remember, we started off across the Gorner Glacier and re turned home by the Riffelberg, which was still covered with snow. On the following day Gabriel and I made rather a late start for the Triftjoch, intending, if the weather, which was somewhat dubious, held up, to cross to Zinal. It was exactly five o'clock as we passed the English Church, but putting on the pace, we reached the Trift Inn at 6.10, having crossed the torrent on a huge snow-bridge just below the natural rock one.

I can well believe that in old days, before the present path was made, it was anything but a pleasant job to follow the track with the dubious aid of a lantern, though now of course it's easy enough. From the little inn, which was then in process of enlargement, we proceeded over turf and patches of snow to the foot of the long grass grown moraine, up which we toiled, and then made for a spot just to the right of some reddish cliffs, at which Gabriel averred water was always to be found, and where parties going for the Trift or Rothhorn used to breakfast before the inn was built. Sure enough, in spite of a hard frost, water was trickling down the rocks, and we at once piped to breakfast, during which meal I watched with deep interest a party on Wellenkuppe. Being rather late, we could not afford to waste much time over it, and, after roping up, set off round the base of the cliffs, and presently got on the gently sloping glacier, at the head of a grand amphitheatre of rocks surrounding which, I could see our col. Keeping fairly close under the crags on the north side, before long we passed an ice-fall of a tributary glacier, blocks from whose seracs strewed the main one we were on with trans lucent masses of ice of all sizes, the sharp angles of which showed they had only recently fallen, and warned us to give it a wide berth.

The snow, which was none too hard when we reached the glacier, now began to show signs of the sun's power, and we broke through the crust at every step. I was not without my trusty friend the umbrella, and right well it served me, though Mr. Gabriel rather scoffed at it, the fact being, I fancy, that he didn't like being seen with a Herr whose head was so soft as to need extra protection from the sun. At 10.40 we gained the foot of the steep slope leading up to the col, and had a shocking bad time floundering up its deep and soft snow. Gabriel, in crossing the little bergschrund at its foot, managed to drop one leg in, and had some difficulty in extricating it, but beyond that and the fall of a mass of rock from the Trifthorn close to, there was nothing of interest, and at half-past eleven we reached the Col, where a magnificent view burst upon us.

Right in front rose a snowy peak, which Gabriel said was Grand Cornier, but grand as it was, it was far overtopped by a huge mass to the left, which I at once knew could be nothing else but Dent Blanche, though its summit was concealed by a curious mushroom-shaped cloud, which in a few minutes spread across to the former peak. Far down below the guide pointed out a tiny square patch amongst snow and rocks, which he said was the new Mountet hut. There was a good deal of wind blowing, and before starting down the Zinal side, I proposed we should have a snack, as I felt a bit peckish and there would be less to carry. Accordingly we retraced our steps a few feet below the col, so as to be sheltered while we discussed the contents of G. T.'s sack. It was well we did so, for on mounting to the col again we found the whole amphitheatre on the Zinal side a mass of seething clouds, and a furious gust of wind sent my hat spinning half-way down to the Trift Glacier.

Zinal was out of the question evidently, so we at once beat a hurried retreat and plunged down the snow slope, picking up my hat en route. Over the schrund we scrambled and off down the glacier as hard as the soft going would let us ; but flakes of snow began to fall, heavy and wet, long before we reached the end of the cliffs, where we kept straight on instead of following the track down the moraine, and finding a snow slope of inviting appearance between it and the glacier, shot down its full length in one glorious glissade. Just before we reached the inn the snow turned to rain, and again the umbrella scored as we tramped down to Zermatt. The storm proved of short duration, for by evening it had completely passed away, though Matterhorn showed plenty of its traces, being powdered right down to the Horuli with fresh fallen snow.

Finding Tidey and the Rev. F. Grove were off for Breithorn next day, I joined forces with them, and started for the Theodule Inn at 2 p.m. once again. No sooner, however, had we reached it, than suspicious clouds began to form on Matterhorn, and before we turned in at nine it was raining heavily. Though it had knocked off pouring at six next morning everything was wrapped in a dense mist, and any chance of Breithorn was gone. For the sake of a walk, however, Tidey and I, with our guides, decided to go as far as the old Theodule hut as the mist seemed getting lighter, an expedition that afforded us some experience, if nothing else, in finding the way in a fog by aid of a compass, and the guides plan of dis covering their whereabouts by obtaining an echo off rocks whose position was known. In this case the Theodulehorn supplied the information, and by it we steered our course, arriving in due time at the ancient and dilapidated building.

Here I came to the conclusion I'd go on and have a look at Breuil and the Italian side of Matterhorn, as it seemed a pity to return with out doing anything, so leaving Tidey still wrapped in mist, we traversed a long slope of snow, and had the satisfaction before reaching the hotel of finding ourselves in bright sun shine. That afternoon I spent watching avalanches pouring off the rugged sides of Chateau des Dames — curious name for a mountain, I thought — and inspecting the large cowshed with its cheesemaking establishment, and took part in a game of bowls with the hands employed thereat, a game I soon found I did not under stand. After dinner, over a bottle of excellent, if somewhat heady, Barbera, I consulted Gabriel as to what we could do by way of varying the return journey, and on his recommendation soon decided on the Furggjoch.

G. T. being a good Catholic, wished, as the morrow was Sunday, to get back in time for mass, so we turned in early, and at 1.30 a.m. were following a cattle track with the aid of a lantern made out of an inverted bottle with the bottom out. As we rose the steep grass slopes it became very chilly, and whilst I was trudging along close behind him, with both hands buried in my pockets, and wrapped in that evil frame of mind induced by so early a start, suddenly with a loud " Gott " Gabriel and the lantern disappeared, and before I knew where I was down I went too over a yielding mass that gave a terrific snort, and behold it was a young heifer we had fallen over that had been overlooked by the cowherd, I suppose, and gone to sleep on the path ! Such a mix up it was in the dark, and it took us some little time to collect our goods and chattels again, some of them having followed the heifer down hill.

Just at daylight we crossed a poisonous collec tion of boulders and rubbish half concealed by snow, and soon after tackled a steep snow-slope that landed us on the upper end of the left moraine of the Mont Cervin Glacier. Here at 3.50 we called a halt for a few minutes, during which I watched the wonderful play of colour as the sun rose on the moun tains round Cogne, conspicuous amongst which towered Grivola's beautiful pyramid. The snow on the little glacier proved to be in very fair condition, and we made our way over it towards the lowest point on the ridge running east from the mighty Matterhorn, which raised its huge mass some thousands of feet above us, and from whose summit long streamers of what I took to be clouds were blowing, but which Gabriel informed me were in reality snow blown off its crest by a strong north-west wind, though it was absolutely calm where we were.

At a few moments before five we topped the ridge, and after a sketchy breakfast roped up and moved off to the left down an easy snow slope to some rocks. From these we first traversed still more to the left, but coming across a dangerous ice shoot, evidently the resort of avalanches from Matterhorn, we re turned, and finally adventured into a very nasty little couloir, or gully, formed by the glacier, which here was broken up into a short ice fall, having shrunk away from the rocks we were on. The principal difficulty • was the getting into it, as these latter were glazed with ice, but with the guide's aid I picked some of it off and got into the gully, and as it had a lining of good hard snow I was able to cut down it, and when firm was joined by Gabriel. We were, however, not out of the wood; yet, for we found we were merely standing at the top of a huge mass of neve, the only escape from which was over a snow-bridge of the frailest description.

Now I don't mind risking my neck (without being aware of it) on ice which cracks ominously as one skates over it, or even on rocks where a slip would be fatal, but I must say that I do object to crawling on hands and knees across three or four feet of snow, with a yawning chasm of unknown depth on each side. No, there is an uncanny feeling about it that to a beginner at all events is distinctly unpleasant. However there was no help for it unless we retraced our steps, so over I went, fortunately without disaster, and when firmly anchored, and with a couple of turns of the rope round my axe, which was driven almost up to its head in the snow, Gabriel tried to jump it. He landed just on the brink and went through, and for a moment I thought he was gone. Luckily he only dropped his legs in, and soon scrambled out clear.

This was the last difficulty, for an easy slope of snow took us down to the Furgg Glacier, across whose sloppy surface we jogged to the Schwartzee Hotel, and reached Zermatt at 8.20, where our arrival at such an untimely hour created some curiosity amongst the people assembled for early mass. Then came the delights of a hot tub and a "day off" in the garden, not to mention the feeling of satisfaction at having gone to wind ward of the other men, who had returned in gloriously to Zermatt. Next day was devoted to sundry sorely needed " reparations," while my sister took the Unter Gabelhorn with Gabriel, but on the 28th I spent two glorious hours on Mettelhorn, than which easily ascended peak I know of no finer point of view in all the Alps. Weisshorn in particular is seen to advantage from it, and Taugwalder was at some pains to show me the exact route to its summit from the hut.

Away to the east the entire Mischabel range was visible from base to summit, and the position of the different glaciers with the cols at their heads leading over to Saas afforded a most interesting study. It was not, however, entirely for the view I had come, for I proposed to cross it and go straight down to Tasch. We stayed too long on the top, I'm afraid, for the snow on the north-east side just below it proved, when we came to try it, in too dangerous a condition, so we returned as far as the foot of the peak, and then turned over to the right and descended by a succession of standing and sitting glissades right down to the rocks and turf close to the termination of the moraines of the Hohlicht Glacier. Not without coming to grief, though, on my part, for I capsized en route, and my trusty umbrella sustained a severe fracture.

Somehow or other we failed to hit off the path, if there is one, and had a series of desperate scrambles to the Visp through rhodo dendron and alder bushes, and over moss covered boulders of the worst description, amongst which I managed to damage my ankle. The day, too, was roasting hot, and by the time we reached Tasch I had had quite enough, so returned ingloriously by train to the Zermat terhof. This proved my last expedition at Zermatt, for next morning I found I must give my foot a rest, and so became a fixture in the garden until the raising of the tariff on the 1st of July caused my sister and I to beat a retreat to Zinal.

Chapter II

Zinal at the time I write of (1892) was still more or less primitive. There was only one hotel, Madame Epiney's, and the road to it beyond Ayas was negotiable by nothing bigger than the long country carts or mules. Already, however, there were signs of advancing civilisation in the shape of a village school house, which on the day we arrived was having the finishing touches put to the roof, while the stone foundations of a more pretentious building, which rumour declared was to be a restaurant, were visible on the opposite side of the High Street. Catching the early train from Zermatt, we were able to reach Zinal the same evening by driving from Sierre to Vissoie along a lovely and interesting road remarkable for its tunnels and bold engineering. At the latter village we had tea, and having chartered a mule to convey our belongings, walked quietly to Zinal, reaching it just before dark.

Here we found ourselves almost the first arrivals, there being only a party of bug and bird collectors, and as they left next day we had our pick of the rooms. I selected a corner one at the back, being induced thereto by the presence of a real long iron bedstead in it. Now this was a luxury, and no mistake, after the short wooden ones so universal in Switzer land, and I marvelled greatly how it had got there, little dreaming of the trouble it nearly got me into later on. The day after our arrival was naturally devoted to settling down in our new quarters and to making acquaintances, the earliest and most important being the two local guides, Joachim Peter and his brother Elie, the former of whom, I believe, holds the important position of schoolmaster during the winter, and blossoms in summer into a full-blown guide.

The head waiter, one Ernest S., turned up in the afternoon, and with old Marie, the house maid, the establishment for the present was complete. On the 3rd of July, my foot being all right again, my sister and I began a series of explora tions by crossing the Crete de Millon. This makes a capital little expedition for ladies, and is, besides, of considerable interest, for by it the complete circuit of Point d'Arpitetta can be made, and magnificent views of the west face of Weisshorn and of the great Morning Glacier obtained. Leaving the hotel at 7.30, we followed the mule-path past the large white chalet on the Tracuit Alp, right away to the upper pastures, where we crossed the stream at the dry bed of an ancient pool, and mounted over grass and rocks to some long snow-slopes, which we traversed to the left to gain the lowest point in the ridge running from the Point d' Arpitetta to the Tete de Millon, as the point marked 3698 in Studer's map has been named.

Progress was somewhat slow on these latter, as I had neglected to bring a rope, and conse quently had to make extra large footholes for my sister. When we had accomplished about two-thirds of the distance we came across a deep furrow in the snow, in crossing which I remember experiencing considerable curiosity as to its origin. It was not long unsatisfied, for we were cer tainly not more than thirty feet from it when bang ! crash ! rattle ! high up on the rocks above made my heart stand still, and down came a ton or two of rocks of all sizes, which swept along the furrow we had just crossed and finally bounded out on to a mass of debris far below. Taking the hint that we had no business to Viewfrom the Crete de Millon be there, we made our way straight up to the nearest point on the ridge, much nearer the Arpitetta end than we had intended, and topped it at 11.45.

Glorious was the view that burst upon us ! Away to the left towered Weisshorn, whose dark precipices, streaked here and there with snow, hold the secret of the disappearance of an unfortunate German who had, two years previously, endeavoured to gain the summit alone. Further to the right two shallow depressions marked the Morning passes North and South, said to be amongst the most difficult in the Alps, and not without reason, I thought, as I marked the huge bergschrund and wide stretches of blue ice above it that guarded the approach. Straight in front of us rose a sharp pinnacle of rock, which I had some difficulty in recog nising as Rothhorn, so totally different was its appearance from that seen near Zermatt. Further, but much closer to us, on the right, was Lo Besso, whose two-peaked summit forms such a prominent object to travellers coming up the Val d'Anniviers, and which formed the western horn of the vast amphitheatre in front of us, the whole space being filled with the Morning Glacier, a worthy picture for so glorious a frame.

Having brought no wine or water with us, on account of their weight, it was necessary to descend and try and find a spring beside which to lunch ; but, before doing so, we traversed the ridge for a considerable distance towards its eastern end, and then scrambled down on to the Weisshorn Glacier. There proving far more crevasses in this than either of us liked, we took the earliest opportunity of quitting it where it forms rather an extensive moraine on the right, at the foot of which we found a lovely clear spring, and forth with proceeded to lunch. Travelling without guides or porters necessi tates doing without wine or water to some extent, but I have found that one soon becomes accustomed to doing with very little liquid on a mountain when one gets into decent training. From the spring we walked down to the upper Arpitetta Chalet, a repulsive hovel not yet occupied, and thence followed a track to some lower ones on the western side the Alp, near a lakelet that looked most inviting for a dip as it glistened in the hot sun.

Had we known of it we might have taken a short cut home along the hunter's path, but, instead, we dropped down to the large cheese making establishment below, and followed the track from it across the rubbish-covered snout of the Durand Glacier to its junction with that leading to the Alp de l'Allee, and thence by the broad mule-path down the valley and over the bridge to the hotel, which we reached at a quarter to five. Our next point was the Mountet hut, a long and wearisome tramp up the Durand Glacier. No, not wearisome, for a walk amid such glorious scenery can never become so. We had some difficulty, though, in discovering the right place to turn off the glacier, as the lower part of the path, owing to the lateness of the spring, was entirely concealed beneath a dazzling slope of snow which afforded us a splendid glis sade on the way back.

The hut, when we did reach it, was shut, nor could we discover the key high or low, but it was of small consequence, for who could possibly remain indoors with such a magnificent view in front of him which, I think, is scarce equalled for savage grandeur in all the Alps ? On the way down we met on the glacier just below the ice-fall a caravan of men and mules, laden with stores of all sorts and wood, on their way to the hut, and learnt from them that Madame Epiney had a concession from the Swiss Alpine Club, granting her the right to supply travellers using it at a fixed tariff. I sampled the grub later on, and pretty poor it was. Whilst having some tea later in the porch of the hotel we were somewhat interested by the arrival of a couple of mules laden sky-high with hand-bags and wraps, which proved to be the advanced guard of an army of schoolgirls who presently turned up, headed by their mis tress, Mademoiselle Friedel, of Lausanne, and at first I feared all peace was o'er.