The Alps in 1864. A private journal

Preface

. This Journal of my Alpine wanderings in 1864 is not intended for general circulation, but I cannot sub mit it to even friendly critics without a few words of apology for its manifold defects. My object in originally writing it was to compile a narrative, the subsequent perusal of which might recall to my own recollection the various details of my mountaineering campaign of that year. With this view I recorded at full length all the trivial incidents which form the staple of such a tour, and constitute its charm. But these details, though full of interest to myself, will be very dull reading to other people, and had I at the time had any idea that the narrative would ever emerge from the obscurity of manuscript, I should have omitted most of them. Want of time has prevented me re-writing the book on an entirely different principle, and it is, therefore, printed almost word for word as it originally stood. I can only trust that the intrinsic interest of most of the expeditions described will induce my friends to wade through the VI

PREFACE.

. attendant mass of comparatively unimportant matter. For the numerous faults of composition which will, I fear, be found in the volume, I can only plead in excuse that I have throughout sacrificed elegance, and sometimes, perhaps, correctness of expression, in order to obtain minuteness of topographical detail. I have only further to add with reference to my specula tions as to the accessibility of various mountains, most of which have been falsified by subsequent events, that I have allowed them to remain as written, in order to show how worthless is the opinion on such points of even a fairly-experienced observer. In all such cases, an explanatory note is appended. CONTENTS.

PAGE Paris — St. Michel — Col de Valloire — Vallon de9 Aiguilles d'Arve 1 Col des Aiguilles d'Arve — Chalets of La Sausse 7 Ascent of the Bee du Grenier— La Grave 18 The Breche de la Meije— La Berarde 25 Ascent of the Pic des Ecrins 44 Ville Val Louise — Entraigues— the Col de laPilatte -La Berarde — Venos 77 Bourg d' Oysans — La Grave — The Hospice du Lautaret 103 The Col du Galibier— St. Michel Ill The Col de9 Encombres — Moiltiers Tarantaise — Bourg St. Maurice 116 The Col du Bonhome — Contamines — Pavilion Bellevue 118 Ascent of Mont Blanc 130 Chamouni — Chalets of Les Ognons — The Col du Chardonnet — Orsieres —Martigny — Sion 156 Sierre — The Val d'Anniviers — Glacier de Moiry— The Steinbock— Col de Breonna — Evolena 172 Chalets of Abricolla— Cold'Erin— Zermatt 195 Ascent of the Bynipfiscbhorn 207 The Dom 220 Eanda— The Biesjoch— Turtman Thai— Gruben 230 The Z'Meiden Pass— Ayer— Zinal 250 The ArpitettaAlp — The Morning Pass— Zermatt 260 Visp— -Brieg — The Bell Alp— Ascent of the Aletschhorn— The Beichfluh Pass— Liitschen Thai 283 The Wetter-liicke — Lauterbrunnen — Grindelwald 303 The Wengern Alp — Ascent of the Eiger 316 Ascent of the Wetterhorn — Kosenlaui — Grindelwald —Home 328 Appendix MAPS.

The Bange of the Meije and Ecrins, Dauphine" To/acepage 26 The Glacier and Col de la Pilatte, Dauphine" , 84 MontBlanc , 130 The Glacier d'Argentiere ,, 160 The Glacier de Moiry „ 178 TheSaas-grat „ 207 The Turtman and Bies Glaciers 231 The Morning Glacier „ 262 The Aletschhorn , 286 The Wetterhbrner „ 1864. Saturday, 18th June. — I left Brighton at 5. p.m., reached Kedhill Junction at 5.45, remained there till 7.6, when the Dover train came up and deposited me at the latter place at 9.20, I went forthwith on board the boat, and managed to get into a sleepy state before it sailed, at 10.35. Sunday, 19th June. — The fates were propitious, the sea was calm, and the boat reached Calais at 0.35 a.m. with out my having been compelled to pay the usual tribute to Neptune. On arriving at Paris at 7.20 I went to the Hotel de France et d'Angleterre, in the Eue des Filles St. Thomas, where I found the Walkers and Morshead, with whom was a young fellow of the name of Gaskell, who had been intrusted to Morshead for introduction to the High Alps.

The day passed as pleasantly as a day in Paris always does. We astonished " Mossoo " by appearing in all our Alpine glory in the Bois de Boulogne, and, at in tervals, prepared ourselves for hardships to come by the consumption of large quantities of strawberries and cream ice. William Mathews and his party were at Meurice's, en route to the Pyrenees, so that, altogether, the Alpine Club was well represented. After dinner Morshead started for Basle, having arranged to meet me at Evolena on or about the 9th July; and at 8.40 the rest of the party left for B 1864. Charnbery and St. Michel. Wo had hoped to keep the carriage to ourselves, but, just as the train was on the point of starting, we were joined by a most remarkable looking female, English, tolerably young, tolerably good looking, arrayed, as to her head, in a pork-pie hat with a huge red feather, solitary, and encumbered with multitu dinous packages.

I believe that each member of our party passed a large portion of the night in speculating about this mysterious stranger. We compared notes in the morning, but utterly failed in arriving at a satisfactory con clusion, so finally christened her the " Enigma," by which name she goes unto this day. The weather all day had been threatening, but, as the night advanced, the clouds disappeared until the full moon was left shining in a perfectly clear sky. Monday 20th June. — No one of us did much in the way of sleep, and the usual scalding coffee at Macon roused us thoroughly. Culoz was reached at 8.48 ; and there, standing ready to meet us, were Whymper and our old friends Christian Aimer andMelchior Anderegg, — Melchior attached to Mr. and Miss Walker, and Aimer to Horace Walker and myself. Leaving Culoz at 9.12, we reached Chambery at 10.0, where Mr. and Miss Walker, with Melchior, left us en route for the Grande Chartreuse.

At Chamousset we picked up Whymper's guide, Michel Croz of Ghamouni, a large, pleasant-looking man, whom we forthwith introduced to Aimer ; but, as each was ignorant of a single word of the other's language, their mutual communications were somewhat limited. The country through which the line passes is picturesque, but the heat and dust made the journey tedious ; and in spite of some entertaining conversation and behaviour on the part of the " Enigma," who was bound for Turin, we were all glad to reach St. Michel, the present terminus of the line, at 12.10 p.m. Here there was much to be done ; baggage had to be arranged, pro vision laid in, and the last tolerable dinner we had to ex pect for some time consumed. This latter operation was performed satisfactorilv^Ohe excellent, but expensive, 1864. restaurant attached to the station.

And finally, at 2.40 p.m., the greater portion of our baggage being left to await our return, which might be expected in about ten days, we turned our backs upon civilization, and plunged into the wilds. An ice-axe is a rare spectacle on the Cenis road, and many curious glances were cast at our party as we passed along the straggling main street of St. Michel. We had no very precise notion where we should pass the night, our intention being to ascend the Combe de Valloire as long as daylight lasted, and trust to find an opportune chalet at nightfall. This Combe de Valloire opens out on the left bank of the Arc, just opposite to St. Michel, but terminates in a mere gorge through which there is no path. To get at all into the inhabited part of the valley it is necessary to climb to a great height over the intervening hill-side, an arrangement which appears common to many of the lateral valleys of this district, and cannot be too strongly condemned.

Having crossed the Arc, here a con siderable stream by a substantial stone bridge, we at once commenced the ascent. The path, after passing some scattered houses, mounted rapidly through meadows and luxuriant woods, which, however, afforded but scanty pro tection from the sun, whose scorching beams were pouring down upon us from an almost cloudless sky. We were all more or less heavily laden, and to luckless individuals fresh from a sedentary life in England, the walk was as trying a one for afirst essay as could well have been selected. Never theless, with occasional short halts, and a draught from a tolerable spring in a shady nook, we managed to toil upwards, and were soon astonished to see at how great a depth below the valley lay. The scenery throughout was charming, and the path, though steep, good, and apparently much frequen ted, as we passed several parties of natives on their way down.

In due course the woods were left behind, and a stiff pull over the open ground above them brought us at 4.45 to the crest of the ridge, marked by a small chapel and three very tall crosses. The ascent from St. Michel, itself 2533 feet above the sea, cannot be less than 3000 feet. b2 1864. The view from this point, which may conveniently be called Col de Valloire, was unexpectedly fine. Looking back, at our feet lay St. Michel, plainly visible, backed by the extensive and not very interesting-looking valley leading up to the Col des Encombres, to the left of which was a rocky peak, with curiously-contorted strata. But the prospect in the opposite direction absorbed the larger share of our regards. Looking straight up the long valley of Valloire, and over the ridge of the Col du Galibier at its head, our attention was drawn to a solitary summit, towering upwards into the sky.

Croz instantly recognised it as the Monarch of the Dauphine Alps, the Pic des Ecrins, 13,462 feet in height, whose conquest we hoped to effect. The face of the mountain above the Glacier Blanc, which the explorations of Messrs. Bonney, Mathews, and Tuckett had determined to be the only one offering any chance of a successful attack, was turned towards us, and though the distance was much too great to allow us to form any reliable opinion of our chances of victory, yet the little we could make out with the aid of my glass was the reverse of encouraging. The final peak appeared to be protected by a huge bergschrund, running completely across the slope below it, and above this obstacle was a wall of ice and rock, arranged to a certain extent on the couloir pattern, and evidently very steep. We were unable to trace a single couloir right up to the arete; everyone stopped short, leaving an interval of rock, slightly sprinkled with snow, the ascent of which might or might not be practicable.

The aretes right and left of the summit appeared to be fearfully thin and serrated; in fact as unpromising as possible. One thing only was clear, that the mountain would prove no easy conquest. And having arrived at this conclusion, we turned to another part of the view in which we were almost as much interested. Some distance up the valley was the village of Valloire, built at the base of a curious sort of hillock. To the right of, and far behind, the village, towered a singular group of peaks which could be nothing but the Aiguilles d'Arve, a nearer acquaintance 1864. 5 with which we hoped to make on the morrow. The most conspicuous point visible was one of the most remarkable peaks I have ever seen — a vast dome of rock, sliced off on one side as though the operation had been performed with a knife, with an enormous excrescence on the top of the dome, strongly, resembling the top of a pepper-box.

To the left of this "lusus naturæ," and rather in advance of it, was a snow-peak, which I imagined to be the highest summit of the group. Whymper, however, disagreed with me, and (rightly, as afterwards appeared) assigned the supremacy to a second dome of rock, which was rather im perfectly seen between this snow-peak and the pepper-box above mentioned, to which latter, so far as apparent difficulty of access went, it bore a striking resemblance. From this group three lateral valleys radiated, and all finally opened out into the main valley of Valloire. After some discussion, we determined that the base of the Aiguilles might be most advantageously approached by the most southerly of these three valleys, which bears on the Sardinian map the appropriate name of Vallon des Aiguilles d'Arve. Its entrance appeared to be some distance above Valloire, but we resolved to use every exertion to get at least so far before nightfall.

To accomplish this there was no time to lose, so. at 5.5 we picked up our traps and commenced the descent, the path being better and decidedly less steep than on .the side of St. Michel. The views of the valley in descending were charming, and the curious ravine in which it ter-. minates was well seen. After passing two considerable villages, we reached Valloire, in the bottom of the valley, at 5.45, and went to a rough little inn on the " place," where we hoped to lay in provisions. The resources of the establishment proved to be an unlimited supply of good bread, cheese, and red wine, eggs but no meat. In addition to satisfying the present pangs of hunger we had to superintend the preparation of the stores to be taken with us, as Aimer, owing to his ignorance of the language, was helpless; and Croz was rather apathetic.

The people 1864. of the inn were excessively civil and anxious to supply our wants, but scarcely seemed to appreciate the value of time to us. The egg-boiling was a very long process, so, while it was going on, we went out into the "place," where tho cure and some members of the local aristocracy were playing at bowls under difficulties on a piece of ground tilted up at a considerable angle, and of the roughest and most uneven character. All the preparations being at length completed, we left Valloire at 6.50. The path now crossed to the left bank of the stream, and wound through a picturesque gorge between the curious hillock before mentioned, at the base of which the village is built, and the side of the valley. On the top of this hillock, in a very striking position, is a large chapel, the ascent to which must rather take it out of those natives whose piety may induce them to visit it.

The evening was fine, and the walk on very pleasant. At 7.40 we came to a small village, and obtained from one of the inhabitants, the colour of whose nose bore witness that its owner had certainly not taken the pledge, the information that there were occupied chalets at the entrance of the Vallon des Aiguilles d'Arve, and also directions how to reach them. In accordance with these instructions we shortly left the main track, and commenced a rapid ascent over the shoulder of the hill that intervened between us and the Vallon. The track was both rough and steep, and the distance greater than we had anticipated. Corner after corner was turned, but there was no sign of the wished-for huts. Darkness, too, was coming on apace, and it was, therefore, with no small satisfaction that we at length saw a group of buildings looming through the gloom, and at 8.25 reached our destination.

The chalets were situated at the entrance of, but fairly within, the Vallon, which opens out into the main Valley of Valloire opposite to, but at a higher level than, the hamlet of Bonnenuit. The woman in charge received us civilly, and showed us a large barn, furnished with a fair quantity of hay, where we could pass the night. She only insisted on one condition, that we should not 1864. introduce any light into the place for fear of setting fire to the loose hay. Her anxiety on this score was remarkable, and we had to promise emphatically over and over again, both to go to bed and get up in the dark, before she was satisfied. That point settled, she took us to another chalet, and warmed a quantity of milk, with which and our own stores we made a very satisfactory supper. Hunger appeased, there was no temptation to remain up, so we soon retired to our dormitory, and took up our positions side by side on the hay, through which the hard boards made themselves painfully perceptible.

Of ventilation also there was more than enough, and we were not at all too warm. Possibly owing to these two circumstances it was long before I fell asleep, notwithstanding that I had passed the two previous nights in travelling. But I at last dropped off, and doubtless soon commenced to swell the nasal uproar which had been for some time proceeding from my companions. Tuesday, 21st June. — However uncomfortable a bed or its substitute may be, there is one moment when it appears luxurious, and that is, when, at an unearthly hour of the morning, one is called upon to leave it. So it came to pass, that, after a restless and uncomfortable night, when, at about 3.0 a.m. the voice of Aimer proclaimed the break of day, and the consequent necessity of rising, I was very loth to obey his summons, which was not more welcome to the other members of the party.

However we all turned up, and performed our toilette, an operation neither long nor extensive, consisting merely of a vigorous shake 'in order to get rid of the loose particles of hay that were making themselves felt on various parts of our persons. Having breakfasted on bread and butter and cold milk, we paid our hostess a very moderate sum, bade her farewell, and at 3.55 started on our way, accompanied (not as guide) by an ill-favoured native whose business called him some distance up the Vallon. It was a lovely morning, the sky cloudless, and the air so deliciously fresh that it did more in a few moments to restore our energies than had been 1864. accomplished by our night's rest. The valley for some distance in front was perfectly level, and the walking over luxuriant pastures was very pleasant.

On our right was a ridge, separating us from a similar valley; in fact the central of the three glens which radiate from the Aiguilles d'Arve. The most conspicuous point in this ridge was the snow-peak which I had yesterday from the Col de Valloire supposed to be the highest of the Aiguilles, most erroneously however, for it now showed itself in its true character as comparatively insignificant, and merely an outlier of the main group. The ridge on our left, separating us, I imagine, from the valley leading to La Grave by the Col de Goleon, was far more lofty, especially at its further end, where it circled round to the head of our valley. From its general level three points rose conspicuous, close to each other, which are called on the French map " Les trois Pointes d' Aiguilles." The Aiguilles d'Arve themselves were invisible, hidden by a turn in the valley.

At 4.30 we left the pastures behind us, and commenced a steady ascent over a singular expanse of stone-covered ground, which was scored in a remarkable way by deep channels, undoubtedly cut by torrents descending from " Les trois Pointes." These channels ran transverse to our line of march, and as it was necessary to descend into and cross each one in succession, the walking was very laborious. This lasted an hour, and brought us at 5.30 to the last bit of level very near the head of the valley, where it became necessary to make up our minds as to the exact course we would foUow. We, therefore, halted for the double purpose of looking about us and giving Whymper, who was not well, an opportunity of recovering himself. Our immediate object was to make the ascent of the highest of the three Aiguilles d'Arve, and descend either towards St. Jean d'Arve, or better still, if possible, direct to La Grave, on the high road of the Lautaret.

The three peaks are close together, springing from an elevated ridge, the general direction of which is, speaking roughly, north and south. The southern peak is the highest, attaining 1864. 9 11,529 feet, but it only very slightly exceeds the central summit, which, by the same authority, is 11,513 feet. Neither on the French nor Sardinian maps is there any sign of the third or northern peak, although its height can be little inferior to that of its brethren, while from most points of view it is equally conspicuous. On the Sardinian map, indeed, only one summit is depicted, just north of the watershed between the Mau rienne and Dauphine, not far out of its true position. We knew nothing about the Aiguilles from personal know ledge, and had chosen our line of attack in consequence of having read in Joanne's " Itineraire de Dauphine" a somewhat vague account of an ascent of what, from the height given, appeared to be the central peak from the side of St. Jean d'Arve, which wound up with the state ment that it was possible to get down to Valloire.

We, therefore, concluded that, in the event of the highest point proving inaccessible, we should be able to climb the second, and certainly descend on the other side by a route, which Joanne stated to be " relativement facile." The idea that the account in Joanne might be mythical and both peaks inaccessible had never entered our heads, and we were, therefore, somewhat taken aback at the scene displayed to our admiring eyes from our halting-place at the head of the Vallon des Aiguilles d'Arve. As we sat, looking about due north, on our left towered the two highest of the Aiguilles, apparently so equal in height that, but for the map, we should have been at a loss to determine their relative claims to supremacy. I never saw more remarkable peaks than those two perfectly sym metrical piles of rock, which were so like each other that they might have been cast in the same mould.

They rise abruptly from a ridge which circles round from " Les trois Pointes ; " over this ridge the ill-favoured native, who had left us some time before, had declared that there was an easy pass direct to La Grave. It may be possible to get over, but there is not a single well-marked depression in the ridge, the general level of which cannot be much 1864. under 10,000 feet, while the rocks which fall from its summit to the valley below are so precipitous and smooth, that we all, Aimer and Michel included, doubted the practicability of ascending them at any point. Of one thing we were certain, that the native had, after the manner of the country, lied, and that whether or not it might be possible to force a passage, no one had ever crossed that way to or from La Grave. Between the Aiguilles, peaks 1 and 2, was a most fascinating gap of no very great width from which fell towards the valley a small but beautiful glacier.

It was a perfect reproduction in miniature of its larger brethren in other parts of the Alps. Below the gap was a formidably steep ice-wall, cut off by the orthodox bergschrund from the neve. This latter in due course ended in an ice-fall, very steep and shattered, which terminated on low cliffs, succeeded by the usual slopes of rock, stones, and grass, on which at this early period of the season there was a good deal of snow. To the north of peak No. 2 a ridge circled round towards the snow-peak before mentioned, which was now almost in front of us, but a ridge much more practicable than the one above described. Slopes of considerable steepness led up to a series of extensive snow-fields, which it appeared easy to follow up to their origin at any point. It will be understood from the above description that the ridge at the head of the valley sweeps round in an almost perfect semicircle, the Aiguilles d'Arve being in the centre of the arc, while one of " Les trois Pointes " and the snow-peak face each other at either extremity of the chord.

A very few moments convinced us that, as regarded the Aiguilles, the southern arete and the eastern face of peak No. 1 were equally inaccessible, while the northern arete that fell to the gap above the glacier was a simple precipice. The gap itself we thought accessible with difficulty, as the glacier and ice-wall leading up to it promised a tough piece of work, while, when it should be attained, the southern arete of peak No. 2 appeared no less unpromising than the northern arete of peak No. 1. 1864. 11 The eastern face, too, of the latter offered as little prospect of success as that of its companion ; and, but for one circumstance, we should at once have given up all hope of reaching its summit. This was, that from our point of view we could not see the true northern arete, which falls to the ridge connecting the central peak with the northern or lowest of the Aiguilles No. 3 ; the arete, ridge, and peak were all invisible, masked by the most advanced portion of the snow-fields before mentioned.

Now, it was by this northern arete that I gathered from Joanne the ascent had been made, although the vagueness of the description, combined with the total absence of any reliable map, rendered it impossible to be certain. However, we were all willing to be persuaded that such was really the case, and as the Aiguilles were evidently inaccessible on all other visible sides, we determined to make for the gap between Peaks 2 and 3, which, although invisible, we knew must exist, and try our luck from there, never doubting that in any event we should be able to get down on the side of St. Jean d'Arve. Accordingly, at 6.10 we resumed our march, steering considerably to the right towards my decep tive snow-peak, under which it seemed possible to get on to the snow with less difficulty than more to the left under Aiguille No. 2, where the supporting cliffs appeared more precipitous.

Steep slopes of scanty grass were succeeded by still steeper ones of stones, covered here and there with patches of the winter's snow. Occasionally some very faint traces of a track, probably made by sheep or goats, were visible, but never for long, and we had to select for ourselves the most eligible way. After keeping to the right for some time and mounting to a considerable height, we began work ing round to the left, and finally at 6.50 reached the snow, on which the sun was playing with full force, warning us of the necessity for spectacles and gaiters. During a halt of ten minutes these were put on, and thus, fully equipped for work, we bent our knees to tackle the apparently endless slopes in front of us, making for a point immediately to the right of Aiguille No. 2. The slopes were steep, the rays of 1864. the sun hot, and we heavily laden, so that, although there were no difficulties to be overcome, the work was severe, and whoever of the two men happened to be pounding the steps turned round frequently to rest a moment and survey the view which was rapidly opening out behind us.

At length, after passing over a patch of shattered rocks, tho last upward step was taken, and at 8.45 we stood in a gap some fifty yards wide between Aiguilles Nos. 2 and 3. Our first glance was down on the other side, and our first impression was that we were regularly " sold," and that we should have to return the way we came. From our feet the rocks fell in an absolute precipice, apparently cutting us off completely from the smiling valley, or rather combination of valleys, that lay between us and the fine group of the Gran des Bousses, the highest of which Croz greeted as an old friend. A careful inspection, however, showed us two very steep snow couloirs, by either of which we thought it might be practicable to effect the descent ; so, dismissing that question for the present, we turned our attention to Aiguille No. 2.

The nature of the descent towards the valley of St. Jean d'Arve had convinced us at once that the ascent referred to by Joanne could not have been made from our present position, as he speaks of gentle pastures being followed to the very foot of the peak, whereas the nearest pastures were some two thousand feet below at the foot of a precipice. We were, therefore, not particularly astonished on looking up at the Aiguille which rose immediately above us to find that its northern face offered scarcely more prospect of success than its southern, eastern, and western sides. We estimated the gap in which we were sitting to be about 10,200 feet in height, so that the summit of No. 2 was still 1300 feet above us. It might have been possible to scramble up for some distance, but not to attain a height sufficiently great to repay us for the attendant risk, which would have been considerable, the narrow ledges along and up which we must have gone being covered with a thin layer of snow.