CHAPTER IX.

[pg 166]CHAPTER IX.FROM VAL LOUISE TO LA BÉRARDE BY THE COL DE PILATTE.115“How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger.”Euripides.From Ailefroide to Claux, but for the path, travel would be scarcely more easy than over the Pré de Madame Carle.116The valley is strewn with immense masses of gneiss, from the size of a large house downwards, and it is only occasionally that rockin situis seen, so covered up is it by the débris, which seems to have been derived almost entirely from the neighbouring cliffs.It was Sunday, a“day most calm and bright.”Golden sunlight had dispersed the clouds, and was glorifying the heights, and we forgot hunger through the brilliancy of the morning and beauty of the mountains.We meant the 26th to be a day of rest, but it was little that we found in thecabaretof Claude Giraud, and we fled before the babel of sound which rose in intensity as men descended to a depth which is unattainable by the beasts of the field, and found at the chalets of Entraigues117the peace that had been denied to us at Val Louise.[pg 167]Again we were received with the most cordial hospitality. Everything that was eatable or drinkable was brought out and pressed upon us; every little curiosity was exhibited; every information that could be afforded was given; and when we retired to our clean straw, we again congratulated each other that we had escaped from the foul den which is where a good inn should be, and had cast in our lot with those who dwell in chalets. Very luxurious that straw seemed after two nights upon quartz pebbles and glacier mud, and I felt quite aggrieved (expecting it was the summons for departure) when, about midnight, the heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, and a man hem’d and ha’d to attract attention; but when it whispered,“Monsieur Edvard,”I perceived my mistake,—it was our Pelvoux companion, Monsieur Reynaud, the excellentagent-voyerof La Bessée.Monsieur Reynaud had been invited to accompany us on the excursion that is described in this chapter, but had arrived at Val Louise after we had left, and had energetically pursued us during the night. Our idea was that a pass might be made over the high ridge called (on the French map) Crête de Bœufs Rouges,118near to the peak named Les Bans, and that it might be the shortest route in time (as it certainly would be in distance) from Val Louise, across the Central Dauphiné Alps. We had seen the northern (or Pilatte) side from the Brèche de la Meije, and it seemed to be practicable at one place near the above-mentioned mountain. More than that could not be told at a distance of eleven miles. We intended to try to hit a point on the ridge immediately above the part where it seemed to be easiest.We left Entraigues at 3.30 on the morning of June 27, and proceeded, over very gently-inclined ground, towards the foot of[pg 168]the Pic de Bonvoisin (following in fact the route of the Col de Sellar, which leads from the Val Louise into the Val Godemar);119and at 5A.M., finding that there was no chance of obtaining a view from the bottom of the valley of the ridge over which our route was to be taken, sent Almer up the lower slopes of the Bonvoisin to reconnoitre. He telegraphed that we might proceed; and at 5.45 we quitted the snow-beds at the bottom of the valley for the slopes which rose towards the north.The course was N.N.W., and was prodigiously steep.In less than two miles difference of latitude we rose one mile of absolute height.But the route was so far from being an exceptionally difficult one, that at 10.45 we stood on the summit of the pass, having made an ascent of more than 5000 feet in five hours, inclusive of halts.Upon sheet 189 of the French map a glacier is laid down on the south of the Crête des Bœufs Rouges, extending along the entire length of the ridge, at its foot, from east to west. In 1864 this glacier did not exist asoneglacier, but in the place where it should have been there were several small ones, all of which were, I believe, separated from each other.120We commenced the ascent from the Val d’Entraigues, to the west of the most western of these small glaciers, and quitted the valley by the first great gap in its cliffs after that glacier was passed. We did not take to the ice until it afforded an easier route than the rocks; then (8.30) Croz went to the front, and led with admirable skill through a maze of crevasses up to the foot of a great snowcouloir, that rose from the head of the glacier to the summit of the ridge over which we had to pass.We had settled beforehand in London, without knowing any[pg 169]thing whatever about the place, that such a couloir as this should be in this angle; but when we got into the Val d’Entraigues, and found that it was not possible to see into the corner, our faith in its existence became less and less, until the telegraphing of Almer, who was sent up the opposite slopes to search for it, assured us that we were true prophets.Illustration: A snow couloirA SNOW COULOIR.Snowcouloirsare nothing more or less than gullies partly filled by snow. They are most useful institutions, and may be considered as natural highways placed, by a kind Providence, in convenient situations for getting over places which would otherwise be inac[pg 170]cessible. They are a joy to the mountaineer, and, from afar, assure him of a path when all beside is uncertain; but they are grief to novices, who, when upon steep snow, are usually seized with two notions—first, that the snow will slip, and secondly, that those who are upon it must slip too.Nothing, perhaps, could look much more unpromising to those who do not know the virtues of couloirs than such a place as theengravingrepresents,121and if persons inexperienced in mountain craft had occasion to cross a ridge or to climb rocks, in which there were such couloirs, they would instinctively avoid them. But practised mountaineers would naturally look to them for a path, and would follow them almost as a matter of course, unless they turned out to be filled with ice, or too much swept by falling stones, or the rock at the sides proved to be of such an exceptional character as to afford an easier path than the snow.Couloirs look prodigiously steep when seen from the front, and, so viewed, it is impossible to be certain of their inclination within many degrees. Snow, however, does actually lie at steeper angles in couloirs than in any other situations;—45° to 50° degrees is not an uncommon inclination. Even at such angles, two men with proper axes can mount on snow at the rate of 700 to 800 feet per hour. The same amount can only be accomplished in the same time on steep rocks when they are of the very easiest character, and four or five hours may be readily spent upon an equal height of difficult rocks. Snow couloirs are therefore to be commended because they economise time.Of course, in all gullies, one is liable to be encountered by falling stones. Most of those which fall from the rocks of a couloir, sooner or later spin down the snow which fills the trough; and, as their course and pace are more clearly apparent when falling over snow than when jumping from ledge to ledge, persons with lively[pg 171]imaginations are readily impressed by them. The grooves which are usually seen wandering down the length of snow couloirs are deepened (and, perhaps, occasionally originated) by falling stones, and they are sometimes pointed out by cautious men as reasons why couloirs should not be followed. I think they are very frequently only gutters, caused by water trickling off the rocks. Whether this is so or not, one should always consider the possibility of being struck by falling stones, and, in order to lessen the risk as far as possible, should mount upon the sides of the snow, and not up its centre. Stones that come off the rocks will then generally fly over one’s head, or bound down the middle of the trough at a safe distance.At 9.30A.M.we commenced the ascent of the couloir leading from the nameless glacier to a point in the ridge, just to the east of Mont Bans.122So far the route had been nothing more than a steep grind in an angle where little could be seen, but now views opened out in several directions, and the way began to be interesting. It was more so, perhaps, to us than to our companion M. Reynaud, who had no rest in the last night. He was, moreover, heavily laden. Science was to be regarded—his pockets were stuffed with books; heights and angles were to be observed—his knapsack was filled with instruments; hunger was to be guarded against—his shoulders were ornamented with a huge nimbus of bread, and a leg of mutton swung behind from his knapsack, looking like an overgrown tail. Being a good-hearted fellow, he had brought this food, thinking we might be in need of it. As it happened, we were well provided for, and having our own packs to carry, could not relieve him of his superfluous burdens, which, naturally, he did not like to throw away. As the angles steepened, the strain on his strength became more and more apparent. At last he began to groan. At first a most gentle and mellow groan;[pg 172]but as we rose so did his groans, till at last the cliffs were groaning in echo, and we were moved to laughter.Croz cut the way with unflagging energy throughout the whole of the ascent, and at 10.45 we stood on the summit of our pass, intending to refresh ourselves with a good halt. Unhappily, at that moment a mist, which had been playing about the ridge, swooped down and blotted out the whole of the view on the northern side. Croz was the only one who caught a glimpse of the descent, and it was deemed advisable to push on immediately, while its recollection was fresh in his memory. We are consequently unable to tell anything about the summit of the pass, except that it lies immediately to the east of Mont Bans, and is elevated about 11,300 feet above the level of the sea. It is the highest pass in Dauphiné. We called it the Col de Pilatte.We commenced to descend towards the Glacier de Pilatte by a slope of smooth ice, the face of which, according to the measurement of Mr. Moore, had an inclination of 54°! Croz still led, and the others followed at intervals of about 15 feet, all being tied together, and Almer occupying the responsible position of last man. The two guides were therefore about 70 feet apart. They were quite invisible to each other from the mist, and looked spectral even to us. But thestrongman could be heard by all hewing out the steps below, while every now and then the voice of thesteadyman pierced the cloud,—“Slip not, dear sirs; place well your feet: stir not until you are certain.”For three quarters of an hour we progressed in this fashion. The axe of Croz all at once stopped.“What is the matter, Croz?”“Bergschrund, gentlemen.”“Can we get over?”“Upon my word, I don’t know; I think we must jump.”The clouds rolled away right and left as he spoke. The effect was dramatic! It was acoup de théâtre, preparatory to the“great sensation leap”which was about to be executed by the entire company.Some unseen cause, some cliff or obstruction in the rocks underneath, had caused our wall of ice to split into two portions,[pg 173]and the huge fissure which had thus been formed extended, on each hand, as far as could be seen. We, on the slope above, were separated from the slope below by a mighty crevasse. No running up and down to look for an easier place to cross could be done on an ice-slope of 54°; the chasm had to be passed then and there.A downward jump of 15 or 16 feet, and a forward leap of 7 or 8 feet had to be made at the same time. That is not much, you will say. It was not much; it was not the quantity, but it was the quality of the jump which gave to it its particular flavour. You had to hit a narrow ridge of ice. If that was passed, it seemed as if you might roll down for ever and ever. If it was not attained, you dropped into the crevasse below; which, although partly choked by icicles and snow that had fallen from above, was still gaping in many places, ready to receive an erratic body.Croz untied Walker in order to get rope enough, and warning us to hold fast, sprang over the chasm. He alighted cleverly on his feet; untied himself and sent up the rope to Walker, who followed his example. It was then my turn, and I advanced to the edge of the ice. The second which followed was what is called a supreme moment. That is to say, I felt supremely ridiculous. The world seemed to revolve at a frightful pace, and my stomach to fly away. The next moment I found myself sprawling in the snow, and then, of course, vowed thatit was nothing, and prepared to encourage my friend Reynaud.He came to the edge and made declarations. I do not believe that he was a whit more reluctant to pass the place than we others, but he was infinitely more demonstrative,—in a word, he was French. He wrung his hands,“Oh! what adiableof a place!”“It is nothing, Reynaud,”I said,“it isnothing.”“Jump,”cried the others,“jump.”But he turned round, as far as one can do such a thing in an ice-step, and covered his face with his hands, ejaculating,“Upon my word, it is not possible. No! no!! no!!! it is not possible.”How he came over I do not know. We saw a toe—it seemed[pg 174]to belong to Moore; we saw Reynaud a flying body, coming down as if taking a header into water; with arms and legs all abroad, his leg of mutton flying in the air, his bâton escaped from his grasp; and then we heard a thud as if a bundle of carpets had been pitched out of a window. When set upon his feet he was a sorry spectacle; his head was a great snowball; brandy was trickling out of one side of the knapsack, chartreuse out of the other—we bemoaned its loss, but we roared with laughter.This chapter has already passed the limits within which it should have been confined, but I cannot close it without paying tribute to the ability with which Croz led us, through a dense mist, down the remainder of the Glacier de Pilatte. As an exhibition of strength and skill, it has probably never been surpassed in the Alps or elsewhere. On this almost unknown and very steep glacier, he was perfectly at home, even in the mists. Never able to see fifty feet ahead, he still went on with the utmost certainty, and without having to retrace a single step; and displayed from first to last consummate knowledge of the materials with which he was dealing. Now he cut steps down one side of asérac, went with a dash at the other side, and hauled us up after him; then cut away along a ridge until a point was gained from which we could jump on to another ridge; then, doubling back, found a snow-bridge, across which he crawled on hands and knees, towed us across by the legs, ridiculing our apprehensions, mimicking our awkwardness, declining all help, bidding us only to follow him.About 1P.M.we emerged from the mist and found ourselves just arrived upon the level portion of the glacier, having, as Reynaud properly remarked, come down as quickly as if there had not been any mist at all. Then we attacked the leg of mutton which my friend had so thoughtfully brought with him, and afterwards raced down, with renewed energy, to La Bérarde.Reynaud and I walked together to St. Christophe, where we parted. Since then we have talked over the doings of this[pg 175]momentous day; and I know that he would not, for a good deal, have missed the passage of the Col de Pilatte, although we failed to make it an easier or a shorter route than the Col du Selé. I rejoined Moore and Walker, the same evening, at Venos, and on the next day went with them over the Lautaret road to the hospice on its summit, where we slept.So our little campaign in Dauphiné came to an end. It was remarkable for the absence of failures, and for the ease and precision with which all our plans were carried out. This was due very much to the spirit of my companions; but it was also owing to the fine weather which we were fortunate enough to enjoy, and to our making a very early start every morning. By beginning our work at or before the break of day, on the longest days in the year, we were not only able to avoid hurrying when deliberation was desirable, but could afford to spend several hours in delightful ease whenever the fancy seized us.I cannot too strongly recommend to tourists in search of amusement to avoid the inns of Dauphiné. Sleep in the chalets. Get what food you can from the inns, but do not as a rule attempt to pass nights in them.123Sleepin them you cannot. M. Joanne says that the inventor of the insecticide powder was a native of Dauphiné. I can well believe it. He must have often felt the necessity of such an invention in his infancy and childhood.On June 29 I crossed the Col du Galibier to St. Michel; on the 30th, the Col des Encombres to Moutiers; on July 1, the Col du Bonhomme to Contamines; and on the 2d, by the Pavilion de Bellevue to Chamounix, where I joined Mr. Adams-Reilly to take part in some expeditions which had been planned long before.[pg 176]CHAPTER X.THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DE TRIOLET, AND FIRST ASCENTS OF MONT DOLENT, AIGUILLE DE TRÉLATÊTE, AND AIGUILLE D’ARGENTIÈRE.“Nothing binds men so closely together as agreement in plans and desires.”Cicero.A few years ago not many persons knew from personal knowledge how extremely inaccurately the chain of Mont Blanc was delineated. In the earlier part of the century thousands had made the tour of the chain, and before the year 1860 at leastonethousand individuals had stood upon its highest summit; but out of all this number there was not one capable, willing, or able, to map the mountain which, until recently, was regarded the highest in Europe.Many persons knew that great blunders had been perpetrated, and it was notorious that even Mont Blanc itself was represented in a ludicrously incorrect manner on all sides excepting the north; but there was not, perhaps, a single individual who knew, at the time to which I refer, that errors of no less than 1000 feet had been committed in the determination of heights at each end of the chain; that some glaciers were represented of double their real dimensions; and that ridges and mountains were laid down which actually had no existence.One portion alone of the entire chain had been surveyed at the time of which I speak with anything like accuracy. It was not done (as one would have expected) by a Government, but by a private individual,—by the British De Saussure,—the late J. D. Forbes. In the year 1842, he“made a special survey of the[pg 177]Mer de Glace of Chamounix and its tributaries, which, in some of the following years, he extended by further observations, so as to include the Glacier des Bossons.”The map produced from this survey was worthy of its author; and subsequent explorers of the region he investigated have been able to detect only trivial inaccuracies in his work.In 1861, Sheet xxii. of Dufour’s Map of Switzerland appeared. It included the section of the chain of Mont Blanc that belonged to Switzerland, and this portion of the sheet was executed with the admirable fidelity and thoroughness which characterise the whole of Dufour’s unique map. The remainder of the chain (amounting to about four-fifths of the whole) was laid down after the work of previous topographers, and its wretchedness was made more apparent by contrast with the finished work of the Swiss surveyors.In 1863, Mr. Adams-Reilly, who had been travelling in the Alps during several years, resolved to attempt a survey of the unsurveyed portions of the chain of Mont Blanc. He provided himself with a good theodolite, and starting from a base-line measured by Forbes in the Valley of Chamounix, determined the positions of no less than 200 points. The accuracy of his work may be judged from the fact that, after having turned many corners and carried his observations over a distance of fifty miles, his Col Ferret“fell within 200 yards of the position assigned to it by General Dufour!”In the winter of 1863 and the spring of 1864, Mr. Reilly constructed an entirely original map from his newly-acquired data. The spaces between his trigonometrically determined points he filled in after photographs, and a series of panoramic sketches which he made from his different stations. The map so produced was an immense advance upon those already in existence, and it was the first which exhibited the great peaks in their proper positions.This extraordinary piece of work revealed Mr. Reilly to me as a man of wonderful determination and perseverance. With very small hope that my proposal would be accepted, I invited him to take part in renewed attacks on the Matterhorn. He entered[pg 178]heartily into my plans, and met me with a counter-proposition, namely, that I should accompany him on some expeditions which he had projected in the chain of Mont Blanc. The unwritten contract took this form:—I will help you to carry out your desires, and you shall assist me to carry out mine. I eagerly closed with an arrangement in which all the advantages were upon my side.At the time that Mr. Reilly was carrying on his survey, Captain Mieulet was executing another in continuation of the great map of France; for about one-half of the chain of Mont Blanc (including the whole of the valley of Chamounix) had recently become French once more. Captain Mieulet was directed to survey up to his frontier only, and the sheet which was destined to include his work was to be engraved, of course, upon the scale of the rest of the map, viz., 1/80000 of nature. But upon representations being made at head-quarters that it would be of great advantage to extend the survey as far asCourmayeur, Captain Mieulet was directed to continue his observations into the south (or Italian) side of the chain. A special sheet on the scale of 1/40000 was promptly engraved from the materials he accumulated, and was published in 1865, by order of the late Minister of War, Marshal Randon.124This sheet was admirably executed, but it included the central portion of the chain only, and a complete map was still wanting.Mr. Reilly presented his MS. map to the English Alpine Club. It was resolved that it should be published; but before it passed into the engraver’s hands its author undertook to revise it carefully. To this end he planned a number of expeditions to high points which up to that time had been regarded inaccessible, and upon some of these ascents he invited me to accompany him. Before I pass on to these expeditions, it will be convenient to devote a few lines to the topography of the chain of Mont Blanc.At the present time the chain is divided betwixt France, Switzerland, and Italy. France has the lion’s share, Switzerland[pg 179]the most fertile portion, and Italy the steepest side. It has acquired a reputation which is not extraordinary, but which is not wholly merited. It has neither the beauty of the Oberland, nor the sublimity of Dauphiné. It attracts the vulgar by the possession of the highest summit in the Alps. If that is removed, the elevation of the chain is in nowise remarkable. In fact, excluding Mont Blanc itself, the mountains of which the chain is made up are less important than those of the Oberland and the central Pennine groups. The following table will afford a ready means of comparison.125Mètres.Eng. feet1261.Mont Blanc4810 =15,7812.Grandes Jorasses4206 .13,8003.Aiguille Verte4127 .13,5404.Aiguille de Bionnassay4061 .13,3245.Les Droites4030 .13,2226.Aiguille du Géant4010 .13,1577.Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 13932 .12,900Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 23904 .12,809Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 33896 .12,7828.Aiguille d’Argentière3901 .12,7999.Aiguille de Triolet3879 .12,72610.Aiguille du Midi3843 .12,60811.Aiguille du Glacier3834 .12,57912.Mont Dolent3830 .12,56613.Aiguille du Chardonnet3823 .12,54314.Aiguille du Dru3815 .12,51715.Aiguille de Miage3680 .12,07416.Aiguille du Plan3673 .12,05117.Aiguille de Blaitière3533 .11,59118.Aiguille des Charmoz3442 .11,293The frontier-line follows the main ridge. Very little of it can be seen from the Valley of Chamounix, and from the village itself two small strips only are visible (amounting to scarcely three miles[pg 180]in length)—viz. from the summit of Mont Blanc to the Dôme du Goûter, and in the neighbourhood of the Col de Balme. All the rest is concealed by outlying ridges and by mountains of secondary importance.Mont Blanc itself is bounded by the two glaciers of Miage, the glaciers de la Brenva and du Géant, the Val Véni and the Valley of Chamounix. A long ridge runs out towards the N.N.E. from the summit, through Mont Maudit, to the Aiguille du Midi. Another ridge proceeds towards the N.W., through the Bosse du Dromadaire to the Dôme du Goûter; this then divides into two, of which one continues N.W. to the Aiguille du Goûter, and the other (which is a part of the main ridge of the chain) towards the W. to the Aiguille de Bionnassay. The two routes which are commonly followed for the ascent of Mont Blanc lie between these two principal ridges—one leading from Chamounix,viâthe Grands Mulets, the other from the village of Bionnassay,viâthe Aiguille and Dôme du Goûter.The ascent of Mont Blanc has been made from several directions besides these, and perhaps there is no single point of the compass from which the mountain cannot be ascended. But there is not the least probability that any one will discover easier ways to the summit than those already known.I believe it is correct to say that the Aiguille du Midi and the Aiguille de Miage were the only two summits in the chain of Mont Blanc which had been ascended at the beginning of 1864.127The latter of these two is a perfectly insignificant point; and the former is only a portion of one of the ridges just now mentioned, and can hardly be regarded as a mountain separate and distinct from Mont Blanc. The really great peaks of the chain were considered inaccessible, and, I think, with the exception of the Aiguille Verte, had never been assailed.The finest, as well as the highest peak in the chain (after Mont Blanc itself), is the Grandes Jorasses. The next, without a[pg 181]doubt, is the Aiguille Verte. The Aiguille de Bionnassay, which in actual height follows the Verte, should be considered as a part of Mont Blanc; and in the same way the summit called Les Droites is only a part of the ridge which culminates in the Verte. The Aiguille de Trélatête is the next on the list that is entitled to be considered a separate mountain, and is by far the most important peak (as well as the highest) at the south-west end of the chain. Then comes the Aiguille d’Argentière, which occupies the same rank at the north-east end as the last-mentioned mountain does in the south-west. The rest of the aiguilles are comparatively insignificant; and although some of them (such as the Mont Dolent) look well from low elevations, and seem to possess a certain importance, they sink into their proper places directly one arrives at a considerable altitude.The summit of the Aiguille Verte would have been one of the best stations out of all these mountains for the purposes of my friend. Its great height, and its isolated and commanding position, make it a most admirable point for viewing the intricacies of the chain; but he exercised a wise discretion in passing it by, and in selecting as our first excursion the passage of the Col de Triolet.128We slept under some big rocks on the Couvercle on the night of July 7, with the thermometer at 26·5 Faht., and at 4.30 on the 8th made a straight track to the north of the Jardin, and thence went in zigzags, to break the ascent, over the upper slopes of the Glacier de Talèfre towards the foot of the Aiguille de Triolet. Croz was still my guide, Reilly was accompanied by one of the Michel Payots of Chamounix, and Henri Charlet, of the same place, was our porter.The way was over an undulating plain of glacier of moderate inclination until the corner leading to the Col, from whence a steep secondary glacier led down into the basin of the Talèfre. We experienced no difficulty in making the ascent of this secondary[pg 182]glacier with such ice-men as Croz and Payot, and at 7.50A.M.arrived on the top of the so-called pass, at a height, according to Mieulet, of 12,162 feet, and 4530 above our camp on the Couvercle.The descent was commenced by very steep, but firm, rocks, and then by a branch of the Glacier de Triolet. Schrunds129were abundant; there were no less than five extending completely across the glacier, all of which had to be jumped. Not one was equal in dimensions to the extraordinary chasm on the Col de Pilatte, although in the aggregate they far surpassed it.“Our lives,”so Reilly expressed it,“were made a burden to us with schrunds.”We flattered ourselves that we should arrive at the chalets of Prè du Bar very early in the day; but, owing to much time being lost on the slopes of Mont Rouge, it was nearly 4P.M.before we got to them. There were no bridges across the torrent nearer than Gruetta, and rather than descend so far, we preferred to round the base of Mont Rouge, and to cross the snout of the Glacier du Mont Dolent.130We occupied the 9th with a scramble up Mont Dolent. This was a miniature ascent. It contained a little of everything. First we went up to the Col Ferret (No. 1), and had a little grind over shaly banks; then there was a little walk over grass; then a little tramp over a moraine (which, strange to say, gave a pleasant path); then a little zigzagging over the snow-covered glacier of Mont Dolent. Then there was a little bergschrund; then a little wall of snow,—which we mounted by the side of a little buttress; and when we struck the ridge descending S.E. from the summit, we found a little arête of snow leading to the highest point. The summit itself was little,—very small indeed; it was the loveliest little cone of snow that was ever piled up on mountain-top; so[pg 183]soft, so pure; it seemed a crime to defile it; it was a miniature Jungfrau, a toy summit, you could cover it with the hand.131But there was nothing little about theviewfrom the Mont Dolent. [Situated at the junction of three mountain ridges, it rises in a positive steeple far above anything in its immediate neighbourhood; and certain gaps in the surrounding ridges, which seem contrived for that especial purpose, extend the view in almost every direction. The precipices which descend to the Glacier d’Argentière I can only compare to those of the Jungfrau, and the ridges on both sides of that glacier, especially the steep rocks of Les Droites and Les Courtes, surmounted by the sharp snow-peak of the Aig. Verte, have almost the effect of the Grandes Jorasses. Then, framed, as it were, between the massive tower of the Aig. de Triolet and the more distant Jorasses, lies, without exception, the most delicately beautiful picture I have ever seen—the wholemassifof Mont Blanc, raising its great head of snow far above the tangled series of flying buttresses which uphold the Monts Maudits, supported on the left by Mont Peuteret and by the mass of ragged aiguilles which overhang the Brenva. This aspect of Mont Blanc is not new, but from this point itsposeis unrivalled, and it has all the superiority of a picture grouped by the hand of a master.... The view is as extensive, and far more lovely than that from Mont Blanc itself.]132We went down to Courmayeur, and on the afternoon of July 10 started from that place to camp on Mont Suc, for the ascent of the Aiguille de Trélatête; hopeful that the mists which were hanging about would clear away. They did not, so we deposited ourselves, and a vast load of straw, on the moraine of the Miage Glacier, just above the Lac de Combal, in a charming little hole which some solitary shepherd had excavated beneath a great slab of rock. We spent the night there, and the whole of the next day, unwilling[pg 184]to run away, and equally so to get into difficulties by venturing into the mist. It was a dull time, and I grew restless. Reilly read to me a lecture on the excellence of patience, and composed himself in an easy attitude, to pore over the pages of a yellow-covered book.“Patience,”I said to him viciously,“comes readily to fellows who have shilling novels; but I have not got one; I have picked all the mud out of the nails of my boots, and have skinned my face; what shall I do?”“Go and study the moraine of the Miage,”said he. I went, and came back after an hour.“What news?”cried Reilly, raising himself on his elbow.“Very little; it’s a big moraine, bigger than I thought, with ridge outside ridge, like a fortified camp; and there are walls upon it which have been built and loop-holed, as if for defence.”“Try again,”he said, as he threw himself on his back. But I went to Croz, who was asleep, and tickled his nose with a straw until he awoke; and then, as that amusement was played out, watched Reilly, who was getting numbed, and shifted uneasily from side to side, and threw himself on his stomach, and rested his head on his elbows, and lighted his pipe and puffed at it savagely. When I looked again, how was Reilly? An indistinguishable heap; arms, legs, head, stones, and straw, all mixed together, his hat flung on one side, his novel tossed far away! Then I went to him, and read him a lecture on the excellence of patience.Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayBah! it was a dull time. Our mountain, like a beautiful coquette, sometimes unveiled herself for a moment, and looked charming above, although[pg 185]very mysterious below. It was not until eventide she allowed us to approach her; then, as darkness came on, the curtains were withdrawn, the light drapery was lifted, and we stole up on tiptoe through the grand portal formed by Mont Suc. But night advanced rapidly, and we found ourselves left out in the cold, without a hole to creep into or shelter from overhanging rock. We might have fared badly, except for our good plaids. When they were sewn together down their long edges, and one end tossed over our rope (which was passed round some rocks), and the other secured by stones, there was sufficient protection; and we slept on this exposed ridge, 9700 feet above the level of the sea, more soundly, perhaps, than if we had been lying on feather beds.Illustration: Our camp on Mont SucOUR CAMP ON MONT SUC.133We left our bivouac at 4.45A.M., and at 9.40 arrived upon the highest of the three summits of the Trélatête, by passing over the[pg 186]lowest one. It was well above everything at this end of the chain, and the view from it was extraordinarily magnificent. The whole of the western face of Mont Blanc was spread out before us; we were the first by whom it had been ever seen. I cede the description of this view to my comrade, to whom it rightfully belongs.[For four years I had felt great interest in the geography of the chain; the year before I had mapped, more or less successfully, all but this spot, and this spot had always eluded my grasp. The praises, undeserved as they were, which my map had received, were as gall and wormwood to me when I thought of that great slope which I had been obliged to leave a blank, speckled over with unmeaning dots of rock, gathered from previous maps—for I had consulted them all without meeting an intelligible representation of it. From the surface of the Miage glacier I had gained nothing, for I could only see the feet of magnificent ice-streams, and no more; but now, from the top of the dead wall of rock which had so long closed my view, I saw those fine glaciers from top to bottom, pouring down their streams, nearly as large as the Bossons, from Mont Blanc, from the Bosse, and from the Dôme.The head of Mont Blanc is supported on this side by two buttresses, between which vast glaciers descend. Of these the most southern134takes its rise at the foot of the precipices which fall steeply down from the Calotte,135and its stream, as it joins that of the Miage, is cut in two by an enormousrognonof rock. Next, to the left, comes the largest of the buttresses of which I have spoken, almost forming an aiguille in itself. The next glacier136descends from a large basin which receives the snows of the summit-ridge between the Bosse and the Dome, and it is divided from the third and last glacier137by another buttress, which joins the summit-ridge at a point between the Dôme and the Aig. de Bionnassay.]The great buttresses betwixt these magnificent ice-streams have[pg 187]supplied a large portion of the enormous masses of débris which are disposed in ridges round about, and are strewn over, the termination of the Glacier de Miage in the Val Véni. These moraines138used to be classed amongst the wonders of the world. They are very large for a glacier of the size of the Miage.The dimensions of moraines are not ruled by those of glaciers. Many small glaciers have large moraines,139and many large ones have small moraines. The size of the moraines of any glacier depends mainly upon the area of rock surface that is exposed to atmospheric influences within the basin drained by the glacier; upon the nature of such rock,—whether it is friable or resistant; and upon the dip of strata. Moraines most likely will be small if little rock surface is exposed; but when large ones are seen, then, in all probability, large areas of rock, uncovered by snow or ice, will be found in immediate contiguity to the glacier. The Miage glacier has large ones, because it receives detritus from many great cliffs and ridges. But if this glacier, instead of lying, as it does, at the bottom of a trough, were to fill that trough, if it were to completely envelope the Aiguille de Trélatête, and the other mountains which border it, and were to descend from Mont Blanc unbroken by rock or ridge, it would be as destitute of morainic matter as the greatMer de Glaceof Greenland. For if a country or district iscompletelycovered up by glacier, the moraines may be of the very smallest dimensions.140The contributions that are supplied to moraines by glaciers themselves, from the abrasion of the rocks over which their ice passes, are minute compared with the accumulations which are[pg 188]furnished from other sources. These great rubbish-heaps are formed, one may say almost entirely, from débris which falls, or is washed down the flanks of mountains, or from cliffs bordering glaciers; and are composed, to a very limited extent only, of matter that is ground, rasped, or filed off by the friction of the ice.If the contrary view were to be adopted, if it could be maintained that“glaciers,by their motion, break off masses of rock from the sides and bottoms of their valley courses, and crowd along every thing that is movable, so as to form large accumulations of débris in front, and along their sides,”141the conclusion could not be resisted, the greater the glacier, the greater should be the moraine.This doctrine does not find much favour with those who have personal knowledge of what glaciers do at the present time. From De Saussure142downwards it has been pointed out, time after time, that moraines are chiefly formed from débris coming from rocks or soilabovethe ice, not from the bed over which it passes. But amongst the writings of modern speculators upon glaciers and glacier-action in bygone times, it is not uncommon to find the notions entertained, that moraines represent the amount ofexcavation(such is the term employed) performed by glaciers, or at least are comprised of matter which has been excavated by glaciers; that vast moraines have necessarily been produced by vast glaciers; and that a great extension of glaciers necessarily causes the production of vast moraines. Such generalisations cannot be sustained.[pg 189]We descended in our track to the Lac de Combal, and from thence went over the Col de la Seigne to les Motets, where we slept; on July 13, crossed the Col du Mont Tondu to Contamines (in a sharp thunderstorm), and the Col de Voza to Chamounix. Two days only remained for excursions in this neighbourhood, and we resolved to employ them in another attempt to ascend the Aiguille d’Argentière, upon which mountain we had been cruelly defeated just eight days before.It happened in this way.—Reilly had a notion that the ascent of the Aiguille could be accomplished by following the ridge leading to its summit from the Col du Chardonnet. At half-past six, on the morning of the 6th, we found ourselves accordingly on the top of that pass. The party consisted of our friend Moore and his guide Almer, Reilly and his guide François Couttet, myself and Michel Croz. So far the weather had been calm, and the way easy; but immediately we arrived on the summit of the pass, we got into a furious wind. Five minutes earlier we were warm,—now we were frozen. Fine snow whirled up into the air penetrated every crack in our harness, and assailed our skins as painfully as if it had been red hot instead of freezing cold. The teeth chattered involuntarily—talking was laborious; the breath froze instantaneously; eating was disagreeable; sitting was impossible!We looked towards our mountain. Its aspect was not encouraging. The ridge that led upwards had a spiked arête, palisaded with miniature aiguilles, banked up at their bases by heavy snow-beds, which led down, at considerable angles, on one side towards the Glacier de Saleinoz, on the other towards the Glacier du Chardonnet. Under any circumstances, it would have been a stiff piece of work to clamber up that way. Prudence and comfort counselled,“Give it up.”Discretion overruled valour. Moore and Almer crossed the Col du Chardonnet to go to Orsières, and we others returned towards Chamounix.But when we got some distance down, the evil spirit which prompts men to ascend mountains tempted us to stop, and to look[pg 190]back at the Aiguille d’Argentière. The sky was cloudless; no wind could be felt, nor sign of it perceived; it was only eight o’clock in the morning; and there, right before us, we saw another branch of the glacier leading high up into the mountain—far above the Col du Chardonnet—and a little couloir rising from its head almost to the top of the peak. This was clearly the right route to take. We turned back, and went at it.The glacier was steep, and the snow gully rising out of it was steeper. Seven hundred steps were cut. Then the couloir becametoosteep. We took to the rocks on its left, and at last gained the ridge, at a point about 1500 feet above the Col du Chardonnet. We faced about to the right, and went along the ridge; keeping on some snow a little below its crest, on the Saleinoz side. Then we got the wind again; yet no one thought of turning, for we were within 250 feet of the summit.The axes of Croz and Couttet went to work once more, for the slope was about as steep as snow-slope could be. Its surface was covered with a loose, granular crust; dry and utterly incoherent; which slipped away in streaks directly it was meddled with. The men had to cut through this into the old beds underneath, and to pause incessantly to rake away the powdery stuff, which poured down in hissing streams over the hard substratum. Ugh! how cold it was! How the wind blew! Couttet’s hat was torn from its fastenings, and went on a tour in Switzerland. The flour-like snow, swept off the ridge above, was tossed spirally upwards, eddying intourmentes; then, dropt in lulls, or caught by other gusts, was flung far and wide to feed the Saleinoz.“My feet are getting suspiciously numbed,”cried Reilly:“how about frost-bites?”“Kick hard, sir,”shouted the men;“it’s the only way.”Theirfingers were kept alive by their work; but it was cold for the feet, and they kicked and hewed simultaneously. I followed their example too violently, and made a hole clean through my footing. A clatter followed as if crockery had been thrown down a well.[pg 191]I went down a step or two, and discovered in a second that all were standing over a cavern (not a crevasse, speaking properly) that was bridged over by a thin vault of ice, from which great icicles hung in groves. Almost in the same minute Reilly pushed one of his hands right through the roof. The whole party might have tumbled through at any moment.“Go ahead, Croz, we are over a chasm!”“We know it,”he answered,“and we can’t find a firm place.”In the blandest manner, my comrade inquired if to persevere would not be to do that which is called“tempting Providence.”My reply being in the affirmative, he further observed,“Suppose we go down?”“Very willingly.”“Ask the guides.”They had not the least objection; so we went down, and slept that night at the Montanvert.Off the ridge we were out of the wind. In fact, a hundred feet downto windward, on the slope fronting the Glacier du Chardonnet, we were broiling hot; there was not a suspicion of a breeze. Upon that side there was nothing to tell that a hurricane was raging a hundred feet higher,—the cloudless sky looked tranquillity itself: whilst to leeward the only sign of a disturbed atmosphere was the friskiness of the snow upon the crests of the ridges.We set out on the 14th, with Croz, Payot, and Charlet, to finish off the work which had been cut short so abruptly, and slept, as before, at the Chalets de Lognan. On the 15th, about midday, we arrived upon the summit of the aiguille, and found that we had actually been within one hundred feet of it when we turned back upon the first attempt.It was a triumph to Reilly. In this neighbourhood he had performed the feat (in 1863) of joining together“two mountains, each about 13,000 feet high, standing on the map about a mile and a half apart.”Long before we made the ascent he had procured evidence which could not be impugned, that the Pointe des Plines, a fictitious summit which had figured on other maps as a distinct mountain, could be no other than the Aiguille d’Argentière,[pg 192]and he had accordingly obliterated it from the preliminary draft of his map. We saw that it was right to do so. The Pointe des Plines did not exist. We had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of his previous observations.I do not know which to admire most, the fidelity of Mr. Reilly’s map, or the indefatigable industry by which the materials were accumulated from which it was constructed. To men who are sound in limb it may be amusing to arrive on a summit (as we did upon the top of Mont Dolent), sitting astride a ridge too narrow to stand upon; or to do battle with a ferocious wind (as we did on the top of the Aiguille de Trélatête); or to feel half-frozen in midsummer (as we did on the Aiguille d’Argentière). But there is extremely little amusement in making sketches and notes under such conditions. Yet upon all these expeditions, under the most adverse circumstances, and in the most trying situations, Mr. Reilly’s brain and fingers were always at work. Throughout all he was ever alike; the same genial, equable-tempered companion, whether victorious or whether defeated; always ready to sacrifice his own desires to suit our comfort and convenience. By a happy union of audacity and prudence, combined with untiring perseverance, he eventually completed his self-imposed task—a work which would have been intolerable except as a labour of love—and which, for a single individual, may well-nigh be termed Herculean.We separated upon the level part of the Glacier d’Argentière, Reilly going with Payot and Charletviâthe chalets of Lognan and de la Pendant, whilst I, with Croz, followed the right bank of the glacier to the village of Argentière.143At 7P.M.we entered the humble inn, and ten minutes afterwards heard the echoes of the cannon which were fired upon the arrival of our comrades at Chamounix.144

[pg 166]CHAPTER IX.FROM VAL LOUISE TO LA BÉRARDE BY THE COL DE PILATTE.115“How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger.”Euripides.From Ailefroide to Claux, but for the path, travel would be scarcely more easy than over the Pré de Madame Carle.116The valley is strewn with immense masses of gneiss, from the size of a large house downwards, and it is only occasionally that rockin situis seen, so covered up is it by the débris, which seems to have been derived almost entirely from the neighbouring cliffs.It was Sunday, a“day most calm and bright.”Golden sunlight had dispersed the clouds, and was glorifying the heights, and we forgot hunger through the brilliancy of the morning and beauty of the mountains.We meant the 26th to be a day of rest, but it was little that we found in thecabaretof Claude Giraud, and we fled before the babel of sound which rose in intensity as men descended to a depth which is unattainable by the beasts of the field, and found at the chalets of Entraigues117the peace that had been denied to us at Val Louise.[pg 167]Again we were received with the most cordial hospitality. Everything that was eatable or drinkable was brought out and pressed upon us; every little curiosity was exhibited; every information that could be afforded was given; and when we retired to our clean straw, we again congratulated each other that we had escaped from the foul den which is where a good inn should be, and had cast in our lot with those who dwell in chalets. Very luxurious that straw seemed after two nights upon quartz pebbles and glacier mud, and I felt quite aggrieved (expecting it was the summons for departure) when, about midnight, the heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, and a man hem’d and ha’d to attract attention; but when it whispered,“Monsieur Edvard,”I perceived my mistake,—it was our Pelvoux companion, Monsieur Reynaud, the excellentagent-voyerof La Bessée.Monsieur Reynaud had been invited to accompany us on the excursion that is described in this chapter, but had arrived at Val Louise after we had left, and had energetically pursued us during the night. Our idea was that a pass might be made over the high ridge called (on the French map) Crête de Bœufs Rouges,118near to the peak named Les Bans, and that it might be the shortest route in time (as it certainly would be in distance) from Val Louise, across the Central Dauphiné Alps. We had seen the northern (or Pilatte) side from the Brèche de la Meije, and it seemed to be practicable at one place near the above-mentioned mountain. More than that could not be told at a distance of eleven miles. We intended to try to hit a point on the ridge immediately above the part where it seemed to be easiest.We left Entraigues at 3.30 on the morning of June 27, and proceeded, over very gently-inclined ground, towards the foot of[pg 168]the Pic de Bonvoisin (following in fact the route of the Col de Sellar, which leads from the Val Louise into the Val Godemar);119and at 5A.M., finding that there was no chance of obtaining a view from the bottom of the valley of the ridge over which our route was to be taken, sent Almer up the lower slopes of the Bonvoisin to reconnoitre. He telegraphed that we might proceed; and at 5.45 we quitted the snow-beds at the bottom of the valley for the slopes which rose towards the north.The course was N.N.W., and was prodigiously steep.In less than two miles difference of latitude we rose one mile of absolute height.But the route was so far from being an exceptionally difficult one, that at 10.45 we stood on the summit of the pass, having made an ascent of more than 5000 feet in five hours, inclusive of halts.Upon sheet 189 of the French map a glacier is laid down on the south of the Crête des Bœufs Rouges, extending along the entire length of the ridge, at its foot, from east to west. In 1864 this glacier did not exist asoneglacier, but in the place where it should have been there were several small ones, all of which were, I believe, separated from each other.120We commenced the ascent from the Val d’Entraigues, to the west of the most western of these small glaciers, and quitted the valley by the first great gap in its cliffs after that glacier was passed. We did not take to the ice until it afforded an easier route than the rocks; then (8.30) Croz went to the front, and led with admirable skill through a maze of crevasses up to the foot of a great snowcouloir, that rose from the head of the glacier to the summit of the ridge over which we had to pass.We had settled beforehand in London, without knowing any[pg 169]thing whatever about the place, that such a couloir as this should be in this angle; but when we got into the Val d’Entraigues, and found that it was not possible to see into the corner, our faith in its existence became less and less, until the telegraphing of Almer, who was sent up the opposite slopes to search for it, assured us that we were true prophets.Illustration: A snow couloirA SNOW COULOIR.Snowcouloirsare nothing more or less than gullies partly filled by snow. They are most useful institutions, and may be considered as natural highways placed, by a kind Providence, in convenient situations for getting over places which would otherwise be inac[pg 170]cessible. They are a joy to the mountaineer, and, from afar, assure him of a path when all beside is uncertain; but they are grief to novices, who, when upon steep snow, are usually seized with two notions—first, that the snow will slip, and secondly, that those who are upon it must slip too.Nothing, perhaps, could look much more unpromising to those who do not know the virtues of couloirs than such a place as theengravingrepresents,121and if persons inexperienced in mountain craft had occasion to cross a ridge or to climb rocks, in which there were such couloirs, they would instinctively avoid them. But practised mountaineers would naturally look to them for a path, and would follow them almost as a matter of course, unless they turned out to be filled with ice, or too much swept by falling stones, or the rock at the sides proved to be of such an exceptional character as to afford an easier path than the snow.Couloirs look prodigiously steep when seen from the front, and, so viewed, it is impossible to be certain of their inclination within many degrees. Snow, however, does actually lie at steeper angles in couloirs than in any other situations;—45° to 50° degrees is not an uncommon inclination. Even at such angles, two men with proper axes can mount on snow at the rate of 700 to 800 feet per hour. The same amount can only be accomplished in the same time on steep rocks when they are of the very easiest character, and four or five hours may be readily spent upon an equal height of difficult rocks. Snow couloirs are therefore to be commended because they economise time.Of course, in all gullies, one is liable to be encountered by falling stones. Most of those which fall from the rocks of a couloir, sooner or later spin down the snow which fills the trough; and, as their course and pace are more clearly apparent when falling over snow than when jumping from ledge to ledge, persons with lively[pg 171]imaginations are readily impressed by them. The grooves which are usually seen wandering down the length of snow couloirs are deepened (and, perhaps, occasionally originated) by falling stones, and they are sometimes pointed out by cautious men as reasons why couloirs should not be followed. I think they are very frequently only gutters, caused by water trickling off the rocks. Whether this is so or not, one should always consider the possibility of being struck by falling stones, and, in order to lessen the risk as far as possible, should mount upon the sides of the snow, and not up its centre. Stones that come off the rocks will then generally fly over one’s head, or bound down the middle of the trough at a safe distance.At 9.30A.M.we commenced the ascent of the couloir leading from the nameless glacier to a point in the ridge, just to the east of Mont Bans.122So far the route had been nothing more than a steep grind in an angle where little could be seen, but now views opened out in several directions, and the way began to be interesting. It was more so, perhaps, to us than to our companion M. Reynaud, who had no rest in the last night. He was, moreover, heavily laden. Science was to be regarded—his pockets were stuffed with books; heights and angles were to be observed—his knapsack was filled with instruments; hunger was to be guarded against—his shoulders were ornamented with a huge nimbus of bread, and a leg of mutton swung behind from his knapsack, looking like an overgrown tail. Being a good-hearted fellow, he had brought this food, thinking we might be in need of it. As it happened, we were well provided for, and having our own packs to carry, could not relieve him of his superfluous burdens, which, naturally, he did not like to throw away. As the angles steepened, the strain on his strength became more and more apparent. At last he began to groan. At first a most gentle and mellow groan;[pg 172]but as we rose so did his groans, till at last the cliffs were groaning in echo, and we were moved to laughter.Croz cut the way with unflagging energy throughout the whole of the ascent, and at 10.45 we stood on the summit of our pass, intending to refresh ourselves with a good halt. Unhappily, at that moment a mist, which had been playing about the ridge, swooped down and blotted out the whole of the view on the northern side. Croz was the only one who caught a glimpse of the descent, and it was deemed advisable to push on immediately, while its recollection was fresh in his memory. We are consequently unable to tell anything about the summit of the pass, except that it lies immediately to the east of Mont Bans, and is elevated about 11,300 feet above the level of the sea. It is the highest pass in Dauphiné. We called it the Col de Pilatte.We commenced to descend towards the Glacier de Pilatte by a slope of smooth ice, the face of which, according to the measurement of Mr. Moore, had an inclination of 54°! Croz still led, and the others followed at intervals of about 15 feet, all being tied together, and Almer occupying the responsible position of last man. The two guides were therefore about 70 feet apart. They were quite invisible to each other from the mist, and looked spectral even to us. But thestrongman could be heard by all hewing out the steps below, while every now and then the voice of thesteadyman pierced the cloud,—“Slip not, dear sirs; place well your feet: stir not until you are certain.”For three quarters of an hour we progressed in this fashion. The axe of Croz all at once stopped.“What is the matter, Croz?”“Bergschrund, gentlemen.”“Can we get over?”“Upon my word, I don’t know; I think we must jump.”The clouds rolled away right and left as he spoke. The effect was dramatic! It was acoup de théâtre, preparatory to the“great sensation leap”which was about to be executed by the entire company.Some unseen cause, some cliff or obstruction in the rocks underneath, had caused our wall of ice to split into two portions,[pg 173]and the huge fissure which had thus been formed extended, on each hand, as far as could be seen. We, on the slope above, were separated from the slope below by a mighty crevasse. No running up and down to look for an easier place to cross could be done on an ice-slope of 54°; the chasm had to be passed then and there.A downward jump of 15 or 16 feet, and a forward leap of 7 or 8 feet had to be made at the same time. That is not much, you will say. It was not much; it was not the quantity, but it was the quality of the jump which gave to it its particular flavour. You had to hit a narrow ridge of ice. If that was passed, it seemed as if you might roll down for ever and ever. If it was not attained, you dropped into the crevasse below; which, although partly choked by icicles and snow that had fallen from above, was still gaping in many places, ready to receive an erratic body.Croz untied Walker in order to get rope enough, and warning us to hold fast, sprang over the chasm. He alighted cleverly on his feet; untied himself and sent up the rope to Walker, who followed his example. It was then my turn, and I advanced to the edge of the ice. The second which followed was what is called a supreme moment. That is to say, I felt supremely ridiculous. The world seemed to revolve at a frightful pace, and my stomach to fly away. The next moment I found myself sprawling in the snow, and then, of course, vowed thatit was nothing, and prepared to encourage my friend Reynaud.He came to the edge and made declarations. I do not believe that he was a whit more reluctant to pass the place than we others, but he was infinitely more demonstrative,—in a word, he was French. He wrung his hands,“Oh! what adiableof a place!”“It is nothing, Reynaud,”I said,“it isnothing.”“Jump,”cried the others,“jump.”But he turned round, as far as one can do such a thing in an ice-step, and covered his face with his hands, ejaculating,“Upon my word, it is not possible. No! no!! no!!! it is not possible.”How he came over I do not know. We saw a toe—it seemed[pg 174]to belong to Moore; we saw Reynaud a flying body, coming down as if taking a header into water; with arms and legs all abroad, his leg of mutton flying in the air, his bâton escaped from his grasp; and then we heard a thud as if a bundle of carpets had been pitched out of a window. When set upon his feet he was a sorry spectacle; his head was a great snowball; brandy was trickling out of one side of the knapsack, chartreuse out of the other—we bemoaned its loss, but we roared with laughter.This chapter has already passed the limits within which it should have been confined, but I cannot close it without paying tribute to the ability with which Croz led us, through a dense mist, down the remainder of the Glacier de Pilatte. As an exhibition of strength and skill, it has probably never been surpassed in the Alps or elsewhere. On this almost unknown and very steep glacier, he was perfectly at home, even in the mists. Never able to see fifty feet ahead, he still went on with the utmost certainty, and without having to retrace a single step; and displayed from first to last consummate knowledge of the materials with which he was dealing. Now he cut steps down one side of asérac, went with a dash at the other side, and hauled us up after him; then cut away along a ridge until a point was gained from which we could jump on to another ridge; then, doubling back, found a snow-bridge, across which he crawled on hands and knees, towed us across by the legs, ridiculing our apprehensions, mimicking our awkwardness, declining all help, bidding us only to follow him.About 1P.M.we emerged from the mist and found ourselves just arrived upon the level portion of the glacier, having, as Reynaud properly remarked, come down as quickly as if there had not been any mist at all. Then we attacked the leg of mutton which my friend had so thoughtfully brought with him, and afterwards raced down, with renewed energy, to La Bérarde.Reynaud and I walked together to St. Christophe, where we parted. Since then we have talked over the doings of this[pg 175]momentous day; and I know that he would not, for a good deal, have missed the passage of the Col de Pilatte, although we failed to make it an easier or a shorter route than the Col du Selé. I rejoined Moore and Walker, the same evening, at Venos, and on the next day went with them over the Lautaret road to the hospice on its summit, where we slept.So our little campaign in Dauphiné came to an end. It was remarkable for the absence of failures, and for the ease and precision with which all our plans were carried out. This was due very much to the spirit of my companions; but it was also owing to the fine weather which we were fortunate enough to enjoy, and to our making a very early start every morning. By beginning our work at or before the break of day, on the longest days in the year, we were not only able to avoid hurrying when deliberation was desirable, but could afford to spend several hours in delightful ease whenever the fancy seized us.I cannot too strongly recommend to tourists in search of amusement to avoid the inns of Dauphiné. Sleep in the chalets. Get what food you can from the inns, but do not as a rule attempt to pass nights in them.123Sleepin them you cannot. M. Joanne says that the inventor of the insecticide powder was a native of Dauphiné. I can well believe it. He must have often felt the necessity of such an invention in his infancy and childhood.On June 29 I crossed the Col du Galibier to St. Michel; on the 30th, the Col des Encombres to Moutiers; on July 1, the Col du Bonhomme to Contamines; and on the 2d, by the Pavilion de Bellevue to Chamounix, where I joined Mr. Adams-Reilly to take part in some expeditions which had been planned long before.[pg 176]CHAPTER X.THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DE TRIOLET, AND FIRST ASCENTS OF MONT DOLENT, AIGUILLE DE TRÉLATÊTE, AND AIGUILLE D’ARGENTIÈRE.“Nothing binds men so closely together as agreement in plans and desires.”Cicero.A few years ago not many persons knew from personal knowledge how extremely inaccurately the chain of Mont Blanc was delineated. In the earlier part of the century thousands had made the tour of the chain, and before the year 1860 at leastonethousand individuals had stood upon its highest summit; but out of all this number there was not one capable, willing, or able, to map the mountain which, until recently, was regarded the highest in Europe.Many persons knew that great blunders had been perpetrated, and it was notorious that even Mont Blanc itself was represented in a ludicrously incorrect manner on all sides excepting the north; but there was not, perhaps, a single individual who knew, at the time to which I refer, that errors of no less than 1000 feet had been committed in the determination of heights at each end of the chain; that some glaciers were represented of double their real dimensions; and that ridges and mountains were laid down which actually had no existence.One portion alone of the entire chain had been surveyed at the time of which I speak with anything like accuracy. It was not done (as one would have expected) by a Government, but by a private individual,—by the British De Saussure,—the late J. D. Forbes. In the year 1842, he“made a special survey of the[pg 177]Mer de Glace of Chamounix and its tributaries, which, in some of the following years, he extended by further observations, so as to include the Glacier des Bossons.”The map produced from this survey was worthy of its author; and subsequent explorers of the region he investigated have been able to detect only trivial inaccuracies in his work.In 1861, Sheet xxii. of Dufour’s Map of Switzerland appeared. It included the section of the chain of Mont Blanc that belonged to Switzerland, and this portion of the sheet was executed with the admirable fidelity and thoroughness which characterise the whole of Dufour’s unique map. The remainder of the chain (amounting to about four-fifths of the whole) was laid down after the work of previous topographers, and its wretchedness was made more apparent by contrast with the finished work of the Swiss surveyors.In 1863, Mr. Adams-Reilly, who had been travelling in the Alps during several years, resolved to attempt a survey of the unsurveyed portions of the chain of Mont Blanc. He provided himself with a good theodolite, and starting from a base-line measured by Forbes in the Valley of Chamounix, determined the positions of no less than 200 points. The accuracy of his work may be judged from the fact that, after having turned many corners and carried his observations over a distance of fifty miles, his Col Ferret“fell within 200 yards of the position assigned to it by General Dufour!”In the winter of 1863 and the spring of 1864, Mr. Reilly constructed an entirely original map from his newly-acquired data. The spaces between his trigonometrically determined points he filled in after photographs, and a series of panoramic sketches which he made from his different stations. The map so produced was an immense advance upon those already in existence, and it was the first which exhibited the great peaks in their proper positions.This extraordinary piece of work revealed Mr. Reilly to me as a man of wonderful determination and perseverance. With very small hope that my proposal would be accepted, I invited him to take part in renewed attacks on the Matterhorn. He entered[pg 178]heartily into my plans, and met me with a counter-proposition, namely, that I should accompany him on some expeditions which he had projected in the chain of Mont Blanc. The unwritten contract took this form:—I will help you to carry out your desires, and you shall assist me to carry out mine. I eagerly closed with an arrangement in which all the advantages were upon my side.At the time that Mr. Reilly was carrying on his survey, Captain Mieulet was executing another in continuation of the great map of France; for about one-half of the chain of Mont Blanc (including the whole of the valley of Chamounix) had recently become French once more. Captain Mieulet was directed to survey up to his frontier only, and the sheet which was destined to include his work was to be engraved, of course, upon the scale of the rest of the map, viz., 1/80000 of nature. But upon representations being made at head-quarters that it would be of great advantage to extend the survey as far asCourmayeur, Captain Mieulet was directed to continue his observations into the south (or Italian) side of the chain. A special sheet on the scale of 1/40000 was promptly engraved from the materials he accumulated, and was published in 1865, by order of the late Minister of War, Marshal Randon.124This sheet was admirably executed, but it included the central portion of the chain only, and a complete map was still wanting.Mr. Reilly presented his MS. map to the English Alpine Club. It was resolved that it should be published; but before it passed into the engraver’s hands its author undertook to revise it carefully. To this end he planned a number of expeditions to high points which up to that time had been regarded inaccessible, and upon some of these ascents he invited me to accompany him. Before I pass on to these expeditions, it will be convenient to devote a few lines to the topography of the chain of Mont Blanc.At the present time the chain is divided betwixt France, Switzerland, and Italy. France has the lion’s share, Switzerland[pg 179]the most fertile portion, and Italy the steepest side. It has acquired a reputation which is not extraordinary, but which is not wholly merited. It has neither the beauty of the Oberland, nor the sublimity of Dauphiné. It attracts the vulgar by the possession of the highest summit in the Alps. If that is removed, the elevation of the chain is in nowise remarkable. In fact, excluding Mont Blanc itself, the mountains of which the chain is made up are less important than those of the Oberland and the central Pennine groups. The following table will afford a ready means of comparison.125Mètres.Eng. feet1261.Mont Blanc4810 =15,7812.Grandes Jorasses4206 .13,8003.Aiguille Verte4127 .13,5404.Aiguille de Bionnassay4061 .13,3245.Les Droites4030 .13,2226.Aiguille du Géant4010 .13,1577.Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 13932 .12,900Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 23904 .12,809Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 33896 .12,7828.Aiguille d’Argentière3901 .12,7999.Aiguille de Triolet3879 .12,72610.Aiguille du Midi3843 .12,60811.Aiguille du Glacier3834 .12,57912.Mont Dolent3830 .12,56613.Aiguille du Chardonnet3823 .12,54314.Aiguille du Dru3815 .12,51715.Aiguille de Miage3680 .12,07416.Aiguille du Plan3673 .12,05117.Aiguille de Blaitière3533 .11,59118.Aiguille des Charmoz3442 .11,293The frontier-line follows the main ridge. Very little of it can be seen from the Valley of Chamounix, and from the village itself two small strips only are visible (amounting to scarcely three miles[pg 180]in length)—viz. from the summit of Mont Blanc to the Dôme du Goûter, and in the neighbourhood of the Col de Balme. All the rest is concealed by outlying ridges and by mountains of secondary importance.Mont Blanc itself is bounded by the two glaciers of Miage, the glaciers de la Brenva and du Géant, the Val Véni and the Valley of Chamounix. A long ridge runs out towards the N.N.E. from the summit, through Mont Maudit, to the Aiguille du Midi. Another ridge proceeds towards the N.W., through the Bosse du Dromadaire to the Dôme du Goûter; this then divides into two, of which one continues N.W. to the Aiguille du Goûter, and the other (which is a part of the main ridge of the chain) towards the W. to the Aiguille de Bionnassay. The two routes which are commonly followed for the ascent of Mont Blanc lie between these two principal ridges—one leading from Chamounix,viâthe Grands Mulets, the other from the village of Bionnassay,viâthe Aiguille and Dôme du Goûter.The ascent of Mont Blanc has been made from several directions besides these, and perhaps there is no single point of the compass from which the mountain cannot be ascended. But there is not the least probability that any one will discover easier ways to the summit than those already known.I believe it is correct to say that the Aiguille du Midi and the Aiguille de Miage were the only two summits in the chain of Mont Blanc which had been ascended at the beginning of 1864.127The latter of these two is a perfectly insignificant point; and the former is only a portion of one of the ridges just now mentioned, and can hardly be regarded as a mountain separate and distinct from Mont Blanc. The really great peaks of the chain were considered inaccessible, and, I think, with the exception of the Aiguille Verte, had never been assailed.The finest, as well as the highest peak in the chain (after Mont Blanc itself), is the Grandes Jorasses. The next, without a[pg 181]doubt, is the Aiguille Verte. The Aiguille de Bionnassay, which in actual height follows the Verte, should be considered as a part of Mont Blanc; and in the same way the summit called Les Droites is only a part of the ridge which culminates in the Verte. The Aiguille de Trélatête is the next on the list that is entitled to be considered a separate mountain, and is by far the most important peak (as well as the highest) at the south-west end of the chain. Then comes the Aiguille d’Argentière, which occupies the same rank at the north-east end as the last-mentioned mountain does in the south-west. The rest of the aiguilles are comparatively insignificant; and although some of them (such as the Mont Dolent) look well from low elevations, and seem to possess a certain importance, they sink into their proper places directly one arrives at a considerable altitude.The summit of the Aiguille Verte would have been one of the best stations out of all these mountains for the purposes of my friend. Its great height, and its isolated and commanding position, make it a most admirable point for viewing the intricacies of the chain; but he exercised a wise discretion in passing it by, and in selecting as our first excursion the passage of the Col de Triolet.128We slept under some big rocks on the Couvercle on the night of July 7, with the thermometer at 26·5 Faht., and at 4.30 on the 8th made a straight track to the north of the Jardin, and thence went in zigzags, to break the ascent, over the upper slopes of the Glacier de Talèfre towards the foot of the Aiguille de Triolet. Croz was still my guide, Reilly was accompanied by one of the Michel Payots of Chamounix, and Henri Charlet, of the same place, was our porter.The way was over an undulating plain of glacier of moderate inclination until the corner leading to the Col, from whence a steep secondary glacier led down into the basin of the Talèfre. We experienced no difficulty in making the ascent of this secondary[pg 182]glacier with such ice-men as Croz and Payot, and at 7.50A.M.arrived on the top of the so-called pass, at a height, according to Mieulet, of 12,162 feet, and 4530 above our camp on the Couvercle.The descent was commenced by very steep, but firm, rocks, and then by a branch of the Glacier de Triolet. Schrunds129were abundant; there were no less than five extending completely across the glacier, all of which had to be jumped. Not one was equal in dimensions to the extraordinary chasm on the Col de Pilatte, although in the aggregate they far surpassed it.“Our lives,”so Reilly expressed it,“were made a burden to us with schrunds.”We flattered ourselves that we should arrive at the chalets of Prè du Bar very early in the day; but, owing to much time being lost on the slopes of Mont Rouge, it was nearly 4P.M.before we got to them. There were no bridges across the torrent nearer than Gruetta, and rather than descend so far, we preferred to round the base of Mont Rouge, and to cross the snout of the Glacier du Mont Dolent.130We occupied the 9th with a scramble up Mont Dolent. This was a miniature ascent. It contained a little of everything. First we went up to the Col Ferret (No. 1), and had a little grind over shaly banks; then there was a little walk over grass; then a little tramp over a moraine (which, strange to say, gave a pleasant path); then a little zigzagging over the snow-covered glacier of Mont Dolent. Then there was a little bergschrund; then a little wall of snow,—which we mounted by the side of a little buttress; and when we struck the ridge descending S.E. from the summit, we found a little arête of snow leading to the highest point. The summit itself was little,—very small indeed; it was the loveliest little cone of snow that was ever piled up on mountain-top; so[pg 183]soft, so pure; it seemed a crime to defile it; it was a miniature Jungfrau, a toy summit, you could cover it with the hand.131But there was nothing little about theviewfrom the Mont Dolent. [Situated at the junction of three mountain ridges, it rises in a positive steeple far above anything in its immediate neighbourhood; and certain gaps in the surrounding ridges, which seem contrived for that especial purpose, extend the view in almost every direction. The precipices which descend to the Glacier d’Argentière I can only compare to those of the Jungfrau, and the ridges on both sides of that glacier, especially the steep rocks of Les Droites and Les Courtes, surmounted by the sharp snow-peak of the Aig. Verte, have almost the effect of the Grandes Jorasses. Then, framed, as it were, between the massive tower of the Aig. de Triolet and the more distant Jorasses, lies, without exception, the most delicately beautiful picture I have ever seen—the wholemassifof Mont Blanc, raising its great head of snow far above the tangled series of flying buttresses which uphold the Monts Maudits, supported on the left by Mont Peuteret and by the mass of ragged aiguilles which overhang the Brenva. This aspect of Mont Blanc is not new, but from this point itsposeis unrivalled, and it has all the superiority of a picture grouped by the hand of a master.... The view is as extensive, and far more lovely than that from Mont Blanc itself.]132We went down to Courmayeur, and on the afternoon of July 10 started from that place to camp on Mont Suc, for the ascent of the Aiguille de Trélatête; hopeful that the mists which were hanging about would clear away. They did not, so we deposited ourselves, and a vast load of straw, on the moraine of the Miage Glacier, just above the Lac de Combal, in a charming little hole which some solitary shepherd had excavated beneath a great slab of rock. We spent the night there, and the whole of the next day, unwilling[pg 184]to run away, and equally so to get into difficulties by venturing into the mist. It was a dull time, and I grew restless. Reilly read to me a lecture on the excellence of patience, and composed himself in an easy attitude, to pore over the pages of a yellow-covered book.“Patience,”I said to him viciously,“comes readily to fellows who have shilling novels; but I have not got one; I have picked all the mud out of the nails of my boots, and have skinned my face; what shall I do?”“Go and study the moraine of the Miage,”said he. I went, and came back after an hour.“What news?”cried Reilly, raising himself on his elbow.“Very little; it’s a big moraine, bigger than I thought, with ridge outside ridge, like a fortified camp; and there are walls upon it which have been built and loop-holed, as if for defence.”“Try again,”he said, as he threw himself on his back. But I went to Croz, who was asleep, and tickled his nose with a straw until he awoke; and then, as that amusement was played out, watched Reilly, who was getting numbed, and shifted uneasily from side to side, and threw himself on his stomach, and rested his head on his elbows, and lighted his pipe and puffed at it savagely. When I looked again, how was Reilly? An indistinguishable heap; arms, legs, head, stones, and straw, all mixed together, his hat flung on one side, his novel tossed far away! Then I went to him, and read him a lecture on the excellence of patience.Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayBah! it was a dull time. Our mountain, like a beautiful coquette, sometimes unveiled herself for a moment, and looked charming above, although[pg 185]very mysterious below. It was not until eventide she allowed us to approach her; then, as darkness came on, the curtains were withdrawn, the light drapery was lifted, and we stole up on tiptoe through the grand portal formed by Mont Suc. But night advanced rapidly, and we found ourselves left out in the cold, without a hole to creep into or shelter from overhanging rock. We might have fared badly, except for our good plaids. When they were sewn together down their long edges, and one end tossed over our rope (which was passed round some rocks), and the other secured by stones, there was sufficient protection; and we slept on this exposed ridge, 9700 feet above the level of the sea, more soundly, perhaps, than if we had been lying on feather beds.Illustration: Our camp on Mont SucOUR CAMP ON MONT SUC.133We left our bivouac at 4.45A.M., and at 9.40 arrived upon the highest of the three summits of the Trélatête, by passing over the[pg 186]lowest one. It was well above everything at this end of the chain, and the view from it was extraordinarily magnificent. The whole of the western face of Mont Blanc was spread out before us; we were the first by whom it had been ever seen. I cede the description of this view to my comrade, to whom it rightfully belongs.[For four years I had felt great interest in the geography of the chain; the year before I had mapped, more or less successfully, all but this spot, and this spot had always eluded my grasp. The praises, undeserved as they were, which my map had received, were as gall and wormwood to me when I thought of that great slope which I had been obliged to leave a blank, speckled over with unmeaning dots of rock, gathered from previous maps—for I had consulted them all without meeting an intelligible representation of it. From the surface of the Miage glacier I had gained nothing, for I could only see the feet of magnificent ice-streams, and no more; but now, from the top of the dead wall of rock which had so long closed my view, I saw those fine glaciers from top to bottom, pouring down their streams, nearly as large as the Bossons, from Mont Blanc, from the Bosse, and from the Dôme.The head of Mont Blanc is supported on this side by two buttresses, between which vast glaciers descend. Of these the most southern134takes its rise at the foot of the precipices which fall steeply down from the Calotte,135and its stream, as it joins that of the Miage, is cut in two by an enormousrognonof rock. Next, to the left, comes the largest of the buttresses of which I have spoken, almost forming an aiguille in itself. The next glacier136descends from a large basin which receives the snows of the summit-ridge between the Bosse and the Dome, and it is divided from the third and last glacier137by another buttress, which joins the summit-ridge at a point between the Dôme and the Aig. de Bionnassay.]The great buttresses betwixt these magnificent ice-streams have[pg 187]supplied a large portion of the enormous masses of débris which are disposed in ridges round about, and are strewn over, the termination of the Glacier de Miage in the Val Véni. These moraines138used to be classed amongst the wonders of the world. They are very large for a glacier of the size of the Miage.The dimensions of moraines are not ruled by those of glaciers. Many small glaciers have large moraines,139and many large ones have small moraines. The size of the moraines of any glacier depends mainly upon the area of rock surface that is exposed to atmospheric influences within the basin drained by the glacier; upon the nature of such rock,—whether it is friable or resistant; and upon the dip of strata. Moraines most likely will be small if little rock surface is exposed; but when large ones are seen, then, in all probability, large areas of rock, uncovered by snow or ice, will be found in immediate contiguity to the glacier. The Miage glacier has large ones, because it receives detritus from many great cliffs and ridges. But if this glacier, instead of lying, as it does, at the bottom of a trough, were to fill that trough, if it were to completely envelope the Aiguille de Trélatête, and the other mountains which border it, and were to descend from Mont Blanc unbroken by rock or ridge, it would be as destitute of morainic matter as the greatMer de Glaceof Greenland. For if a country or district iscompletelycovered up by glacier, the moraines may be of the very smallest dimensions.140The contributions that are supplied to moraines by glaciers themselves, from the abrasion of the rocks over which their ice passes, are minute compared with the accumulations which are[pg 188]furnished from other sources. These great rubbish-heaps are formed, one may say almost entirely, from débris which falls, or is washed down the flanks of mountains, or from cliffs bordering glaciers; and are composed, to a very limited extent only, of matter that is ground, rasped, or filed off by the friction of the ice.If the contrary view were to be adopted, if it could be maintained that“glaciers,by their motion, break off masses of rock from the sides and bottoms of their valley courses, and crowd along every thing that is movable, so as to form large accumulations of débris in front, and along their sides,”141the conclusion could not be resisted, the greater the glacier, the greater should be the moraine.This doctrine does not find much favour with those who have personal knowledge of what glaciers do at the present time. From De Saussure142downwards it has been pointed out, time after time, that moraines are chiefly formed from débris coming from rocks or soilabovethe ice, not from the bed over which it passes. But amongst the writings of modern speculators upon glaciers and glacier-action in bygone times, it is not uncommon to find the notions entertained, that moraines represent the amount ofexcavation(such is the term employed) performed by glaciers, or at least are comprised of matter which has been excavated by glaciers; that vast moraines have necessarily been produced by vast glaciers; and that a great extension of glaciers necessarily causes the production of vast moraines. Such generalisations cannot be sustained.[pg 189]We descended in our track to the Lac de Combal, and from thence went over the Col de la Seigne to les Motets, where we slept; on July 13, crossed the Col du Mont Tondu to Contamines (in a sharp thunderstorm), and the Col de Voza to Chamounix. Two days only remained for excursions in this neighbourhood, and we resolved to employ them in another attempt to ascend the Aiguille d’Argentière, upon which mountain we had been cruelly defeated just eight days before.It happened in this way.—Reilly had a notion that the ascent of the Aiguille could be accomplished by following the ridge leading to its summit from the Col du Chardonnet. At half-past six, on the morning of the 6th, we found ourselves accordingly on the top of that pass. The party consisted of our friend Moore and his guide Almer, Reilly and his guide François Couttet, myself and Michel Croz. So far the weather had been calm, and the way easy; but immediately we arrived on the summit of the pass, we got into a furious wind. Five minutes earlier we were warm,—now we were frozen. Fine snow whirled up into the air penetrated every crack in our harness, and assailed our skins as painfully as if it had been red hot instead of freezing cold. The teeth chattered involuntarily—talking was laborious; the breath froze instantaneously; eating was disagreeable; sitting was impossible!We looked towards our mountain. Its aspect was not encouraging. The ridge that led upwards had a spiked arête, palisaded with miniature aiguilles, banked up at their bases by heavy snow-beds, which led down, at considerable angles, on one side towards the Glacier de Saleinoz, on the other towards the Glacier du Chardonnet. Under any circumstances, it would have been a stiff piece of work to clamber up that way. Prudence and comfort counselled,“Give it up.”Discretion overruled valour. Moore and Almer crossed the Col du Chardonnet to go to Orsières, and we others returned towards Chamounix.But when we got some distance down, the evil spirit which prompts men to ascend mountains tempted us to stop, and to look[pg 190]back at the Aiguille d’Argentière. The sky was cloudless; no wind could be felt, nor sign of it perceived; it was only eight o’clock in the morning; and there, right before us, we saw another branch of the glacier leading high up into the mountain—far above the Col du Chardonnet—and a little couloir rising from its head almost to the top of the peak. This was clearly the right route to take. We turned back, and went at it.The glacier was steep, and the snow gully rising out of it was steeper. Seven hundred steps were cut. Then the couloir becametoosteep. We took to the rocks on its left, and at last gained the ridge, at a point about 1500 feet above the Col du Chardonnet. We faced about to the right, and went along the ridge; keeping on some snow a little below its crest, on the Saleinoz side. Then we got the wind again; yet no one thought of turning, for we were within 250 feet of the summit.The axes of Croz and Couttet went to work once more, for the slope was about as steep as snow-slope could be. Its surface was covered with a loose, granular crust; dry and utterly incoherent; which slipped away in streaks directly it was meddled with. The men had to cut through this into the old beds underneath, and to pause incessantly to rake away the powdery stuff, which poured down in hissing streams over the hard substratum. Ugh! how cold it was! How the wind blew! Couttet’s hat was torn from its fastenings, and went on a tour in Switzerland. The flour-like snow, swept off the ridge above, was tossed spirally upwards, eddying intourmentes; then, dropt in lulls, or caught by other gusts, was flung far and wide to feed the Saleinoz.“My feet are getting suspiciously numbed,”cried Reilly:“how about frost-bites?”“Kick hard, sir,”shouted the men;“it’s the only way.”Theirfingers were kept alive by their work; but it was cold for the feet, and they kicked and hewed simultaneously. I followed their example too violently, and made a hole clean through my footing. A clatter followed as if crockery had been thrown down a well.[pg 191]I went down a step or two, and discovered in a second that all were standing over a cavern (not a crevasse, speaking properly) that was bridged over by a thin vault of ice, from which great icicles hung in groves. Almost in the same minute Reilly pushed one of his hands right through the roof. The whole party might have tumbled through at any moment.“Go ahead, Croz, we are over a chasm!”“We know it,”he answered,“and we can’t find a firm place.”In the blandest manner, my comrade inquired if to persevere would not be to do that which is called“tempting Providence.”My reply being in the affirmative, he further observed,“Suppose we go down?”“Very willingly.”“Ask the guides.”They had not the least objection; so we went down, and slept that night at the Montanvert.Off the ridge we were out of the wind. In fact, a hundred feet downto windward, on the slope fronting the Glacier du Chardonnet, we were broiling hot; there was not a suspicion of a breeze. Upon that side there was nothing to tell that a hurricane was raging a hundred feet higher,—the cloudless sky looked tranquillity itself: whilst to leeward the only sign of a disturbed atmosphere was the friskiness of the snow upon the crests of the ridges.We set out on the 14th, with Croz, Payot, and Charlet, to finish off the work which had been cut short so abruptly, and slept, as before, at the Chalets de Lognan. On the 15th, about midday, we arrived upon the summit of the aiguille, and found that we had actually been within one hundred feet of it when we turned back upon the first attempt.It was a triumph to Reilly. In this neighbourhood he had performed the feat (in 1863) of joining together“two mountains, each about 13,000 feet high, standing on the map about a mile and a half apart.”Long before we made the ascent he had procured evidence which could not be impugned, that the Pointe des Plines, a fictitious summit which had figured on other maps as a distinct mountain, could be no other than the Aiguille d’Argentière,[pg 192]and he had accordingly obliterated it from the preliminary draft of his map. We saw that it was right to do so. The Pointe des Plines did not exist. We had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of his previous observations.I do not know which to admire most, the fidelity of Mr. Reilly’s map, or the indefatigable industry by which the materials were accumulated from which it was constructed. To men who are sound in limb it may be amusing to arrive on a summit (as we did upon the top of Mont Dolent), sitting astride a ridge too narrow to stand upon; or to do battle with a ferocious wind (as we did on the top of the Aiguille de Trélatête); or to feel half-frozen in midsummer (as we did on the Aiguille d’Argentière). But there is extremely little amusement in making sketches and notes under such conditions. Yet upon all these expeditions, under the most adverse circumstances, and in the most trying situations, Mr. Reilly’s brain and fingers were always at work. Throughout all he was ever alike; the same genial, equable-tempered companion, whether victorious or whether defeated; always ready to sacrifice his own desires to suit our comfort and convenience. By a happy union of audacity and prudence, combined with untiring perseverance, he eventually completed his self-imposed task—a work which would have been intolerable except as a labour of love—and which, for a single individual, may well-nigh be termed Herculean.We separated upon the level part of the Glacier d’Argentière, Reilly going with Payot and Charletviâthe chalets of Lognan and de la Pendant, whilst I, with Croz, followed the right bank of the glacier to the village of Argentière.143At 7P.M.we entered the humble inn, and ten minutes afterwards heard the echoes of the cannon which were fired upon the arrival of our comrades at Chamounix.144

[pg 166]CHAPTER IX.FROM VAL LOUISE TO LA BÉRARDE BY THE COL DE PILATTE.115“How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger.”Euripides.From Ailefroide to Claux, but for the path, travel would be scarcely more easy than over the Pré de Madame Carle.116The valley is strewn with immense masses of gneiss, from the size of a large house downwards, and it is only occasionally that rockin situis seen, so covered up is it by the débris, which seems to have been derived almost entirely from the neighbouring cliffs.It was Sunday, a“day most calm and bright.”Golden sunlight had dispersed the clouds, and was glorifying the heights, and we forgot hunger through the brilliancy of the morning and beauty of the mountains.We meant the 26th to be a day of rest, but it was little that we found in thecabaretof Claude Giraud, and we fled before the babel of sound which rose in intensity as men descended to a depth which is unattainable by the beasts of the field, and found at the chalets of Entraigues117the peace that had been denied to us at Val Louise.[pg 167]Again we were received with the most cordial hospitality. Everything that was eatable or drinkable was brought out and pressed upon us; every little curiosity was exhibited; every information that could be afforded was given; and when we retired to our clean straw, we again congratulated each other that we had escaped from the foul den which is where a good inn should be, and had cast in our lot with those who dwell in chalets. Very luxurious that straw seemed after two nights upon quartz pebbles and glacier mud, and I felt quite aggrieved (expecting it was the summons for departure) when, about midnight, the heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, and a man hem’d and ha’d to attract attention; but when it whispered,“Monsieur Edvard,”I perceived my mistake,—it was our Pelvoux companion, Monsieur Reynaud, the excellentagent-voyerof La Bessée.Monsieur Reynaud had been invited to accompany us on the excursion that is described in this chapter, but had arrived at Val Louise after we had left, and had energetically pursued us during the night. Our idea was that a pass might be made over the high ridge called (on the French map) Crête de Bœufs Rouges,118near to the peak named Les Bans, and that it might be the shortest route in time (as it certainly would be in distance) from Val Louise, across the Central Dauphiné Alps. We had seen the northern (or Pilatte) side from the Brèche de la Meije, and it seemed to be practicable at one place near the above-mentioned mountain. More than that could not be told at a distance of eleven miles. We intended to try to hit a point on the ridge immediately above the part where it seemed to be easiest.We left Entraigues at 3.30 on the morning of June 27, and proceeded, over very gently-inclined ground, towards the foot of[pg 168]the Pic de Bonvoisin (following in fact the route of the Col de Sellar, which leads from the Val Louise into the Val Godemar);119and at 5A.M., finding that there was no chance of obtaining a view from the bottom of the valley of the ridge over which our route was to be taken, sent Almer up the lower slopes of the Bonvoisin to reconnoitre. He telegraphed that we might proceed; and at 5.45 we quitted the snow-beds at the bottom of the valley for the slopes which rose towards the north.The course was N.N.W., and was prodigiously steep.In less than two miles difference of latitude we rose one mile of absolute height.But the route was so far from being an exceptionally difficult one, that at 10.45 we stood on the summit of the pass, having made an ascent of more than 5000 feet in five hours, inclusive of halts.Upon sheet 189 of the French map a glacier is laid down on the south of the Crête des Bœufs Rouges, extending along the entire length of the ridge, at its foot, from east to west. In 1864 this glacier did not exist asoneglacier, but in the place where it should have been there were several small ones, all of which were, I believe, separated from each other.120We commenced the ascent from the Val d’Entraigues, to the west of the most western of these small glaciers, and quitted the valley by the first great gap in its cliffs after that glacier was passed. We did not take to the ice until it afforded an easier route than the rocks; then (8.30) Croz went to the front, and led with admirable skill through a maze of crevasses up to the foot of a great snowcouloir, that rose from the head of the glacier to the summit of the ridge over which we had to pass.We had settled beforehand in London, without knowing any[pg 169]thing whatever about the place, that such a couloir as this should be in this angle; but when we got into the Val d’Entraigues, and found that it was not possible to see into the corner, our faith in its existence became less and less, until the telegraphing of Almer, who was sent up the opposite slopes to search for it, assured us that we were true prophets.Illustration: A snow couloirA SNOW COULOIR.Snowcouloirsare nothing more or less than gullies partly filled by snow. They are most useful institutions, and may be considered as natural highways placed, by a kind Providence, in convenient situations for getting over places which would otherwise be inac[pg 170]cessible. They are a joy to the mountaineer, and, from afar, assure him of a path when all beside is uncertain; but they are grief to novices, who, when upon steep snow, are usually seized with two notions—first, that the snow will slip, and secondly, that those who are upon it must slip too.Nothing, perhaps, could look much more unpromising to those who do not know the virtues of couloirs than such a place as theengravingrepresents,121and if persons inexperienced in mountain craft had occasion to cross a ridge or to climb rocks, in which there were such couloirs, they would instinctively avoid them. But practised mountaineers would naturally look to them for a path, and would follow them almost as a matter of course, unless they turned out to be filled with ice, or too much swept by falling stones, or the rock at the sides proved to be of such an exceptional character as to afford an easier path than the snow.Couloirs look prodigiously steep when seen from the front, and, so viewed, it is impossible to be certain of their inclination within many degrees. Snow, however, does actually lie at steeper angles in couloirs than in any other situations;—45° to 50° degrees is not an uncommon inclination. Even at such angles, two men with proper axes can mount on snow at the rate of 700 to 800 feet per hour. The same amount can only be accomplished in the same time on steep rocks when they are of the very easiest character, and four or five hours may be readily spent upon an equal height of difficult rocks. Snow couloirs are therefore to be commended because they economise time.Of course, in all gullies, one is liable to be encountered by falling stones. Most of those which fall from the rocks of a couloir, sooner or later spin down the snow which fills the trough; and, as their course and pace are more clearly apparent when falling over snow than when jumping from ledge to ledge, persons with lively[pg 171]imaginations are readily impressed by them. The grooves which are usually seen wandering down the length of snow couloirs are deepened (and, perhaps, occasionally originated) by falling stones, and they are sometimes pointed out by cautious men as reasons why couloirs should not be followed. I think they are very frequently only gutters, caused by water trickling off the rocks. Whether this is so or not, one should always consider the possibility of being struck by falling stones, and, in order to lessen the risk as far as possible, should mount upon the sides of the snow, and not up its centre. Stones that come off the rocks will then generally fly over one’s head, or bound down the middle of the trough at a safe distance.At 9.30A.M.we commenced the ascent of the couloir leading from the nameless glacier to a point in the ridge, just to the east of Mont Bans.122So far the route had been nothing more than a steep grind in an angle where little could be seen, but now views opened out in several directions, and the way began to be interesting. It was more so, perhaps, to us than to our companion M. Reynaud, who had no rest in the last night. He was, moreover, heavily laden. Science was to be regarded—his pockets were stuffed with books; heights and angles were to be observed—his knapsack was filled with instruments; hunger was to be guarded against—his shoulders were ornamented with a huge nimbus of bread, and a leg of mutton swung behind from his knapsack, looking like an overgrown tail. Being a good-hearted fellow, he had brought this food, thinking we might be in need of it. As it happened, we were well provided for, and having our own packs to carry, could not relieve him of his superfluous burdens, which, naturally, he did not like to throw away. As the angles steepened, the strain on his strength became more and more apparent. At last he began to groan. At first a most gentle and mellow groan;[pg 172]but as we rose so did his groans, till at last the cliffs were groaning in echo, and we were moved to laughter.Croz cut the way with unflagging energy throughout the whole of the ascent, and at 10.45 we stood on the summit of our pass, intending to refresh ourselves with a good halt. Unhappily, at that moment a mist, which had been playing about the ridge, swooped down and blotted out the whole of the view on the northern side. Croz was the only one who caught a glimpse of the descent, and it was deemed advisable to push on immediately, while its recollection was fresh in his memory. We are consequently unable to tell anything about the summit of the pass, except that it lies immediately to the east of Mont Bans, and is elevated about 11,300 feet above the level of the sea. It is the highest pass in Dauphiné. We called it the Col de Pilatte.We commenced to descend towards the Glacier de Pilatte by a slope of smooth ice, the face of which, according to the measurement of Mr. Moore, had an inclination of 54°! Croz still led, and the others followed at intervals of about 15 feet, all being tied together, and Almer occupying the responsible position of last man. The two guides were therefore about 70 feet apart. They were quite invisible to each other from the mist, and looked spectral even to us. But thestrongman could be heard by all hewing out the steps below, while every now and then the voice of thesteadyman pierced the cloud,—“Slip not, dear sirs; place well your feet: stir not until you are certain.”For three quarters of an hour we progressed in this fashion. The axe of Croz all at once stopped.“What is the matter, Croz?”“Bergschrund, gentlemen.”“Can we get over?”“Upon my word, I don’t know; I think we must jump.”The clouds rolled away right and left as he spoke. The effect was dramatic! It was acoup de théâtre, preparatory to the“great sensation leap”which was about to be executed by the entire company.Some unseen cause, some cliff or obstruction in the rocks underneath, had caused our wall of ice to split into two portions,[pg 173]and the huge fissure which had thus been formed extended, on each hand, as far as could be seen. We, on the slope above, were separated from the slope below by a mighty crevasse. No running up and down to look for an easier place to cross could be done on an ice-slope of 54°; the chasm had to be passed then and there.A downward jump of 15 or 16 feet, and a forward leap of 7 or 8 feet had to be made at the same time. That is not much, you will say. It was not much; it was not the quantity, but it was the quality of the jump which gave to it its particular flavour. You had to hit a narrow ridge of ice. If that was passed, it seemed as if you might roll down for ever and ever. If it was not attained, you dropped into the crevasse below; which, although partly choked by icicles and snow that had fallen from above, was still gaping in many places, ready to receive an erratic body.Croz untied Walker in order to get rope enough, and warning us to hold fast, sprang over the chasm. He alighted cleverly on his feet; untied himself and sent up the rope to Walker, who followed his example. It was then my turn, and I advanced to the edge of the ice. The second which followed was what is called a supreme moment. That is to say, I felt supremely ridiculous. The world seemed to revolve at a frightful pace, and my stomach to fly away. The next moment I found myself sprawling in the snow, and then, of course, vowed thatit was nothing, and prepared to encourage my friend Reynaud.He came to the edge and made declarations. I do not believe that he was a whit more reluctant to pass the place than we others, but he was infinitely more demonstrative,—in a word, he was French. He wrung his hands,“Oh! what adiableof a place!”“It is nothing, Reynaud,”I said,“it isnothing.”“Jump,”cried the others,“jump.”But he turned round, as far as one can do such a thing in an ice-step, and covered his face with his hands, ejaculating,“Upon my word, it is not possible. No! no!! no!!! it is not possible.”How he came over I do not know. We saw a toe—it seemed[pg 174]to belong to Moore; we saw Reynaud a flying body, coming down as if taking a header into water; with arms and legs all abroad, his leg of mutton flying in the air, his bâton escaped from his grasp; and then we heard a thud as if a bundle of carpets had been pitched out of a window. When set upon his feet he was a sorry spectacle; his head was a great snowball; brandy was trickling out of one side of the knapsack, chartreuse out of the other—we bemoaned its loss, but we roared with laughter.This chapter has already passed the limits within which it should have been confined, but I cannot close it without paying tribute to the ability with which Croz led us, through a dense mist, down the remainder of the Glacier de Pilatte. As an exhibition of strength and skill, it has probably never been surpassed in the Alps or elsewhere. On this almost unknown and very steep glacier, he was perfectly at home, even in the mists. Never able to see fifty feet ahead, he still went on with the utmost certainty, and without having to retrace a single step; and displayed from first to last consummate knowledge of the materials with which he was dealing. Now he cut steps down one side of asérac, went with a dash at the other side, and hauled us up after him; then cut away along a ridge until a point was gained from which we could jump on to another ridge; then, doubling back, found a snow-bridge, across which he crawled on hands and knees, towed us across by the legs, ridiculing our apprehensions, mimicking our awkwardness, declining all help, bidding us only to follow him.About 1P.M.we emerged from the mist and found ourselves just arrived upon the level portion of the glacier, having, as Reynaud properly remarked, come down as quickly as if there had not been any mist at all. Then we attacked the leg of mutton which my friend had so thoughtfully brought with him, and afterwards raced down, with renewed energy, to La Bérarde.Reynaud and I walked together to St. Christophe, where we parted. Since then we have talked over the doings of this[pg 175]momentous day; and I know that he would not, for a good deal, have missed the passage of the Col de Pilatte, although we failed to make it an easier or a shorter route than the Col du Selé. I rejoined Moore and Walker, the same evening, at Venos, and on the next day went with them over the Lautaret road to the hospice on its summit, where we slept.So our little campaign in Dauphiné came to an end. It was remarkable for the absence of failures, and for the ease and precision with which all our plans were carried out. This was due very much to the spirit of my companions; but it was also owing to the fine weather which we were fortunate enough to enjoy, and to our making a very early start every morning. By beginning our work at or before the break of day, on the longest days in the year, we were not only able to avoid hurrying when deliberation was desirable, but could afford to spend several hours in delightful ease whenever the fancy seized us.I cannot too strongly recommend to tourists in search of amusement to avoid the inns of Dauphiné. Sleep in the chalets. Get what food you can from the inns, but do not as a rule attempt to pass nights in them.123Sleepin them you cannot. M. Joanne says that the inventor of the insecticide powder was a native of Dauphiné. I can well believe it. He must have often felt the necessity of such an invention in his infancy and childhood.On June 29 I crossed the Col du Galibier to St. Michel; on the 30th, the Col des Encombres to Moutiers; on July 1, the Col du Bonhomme to Contamines; and on the 2d, by the Pavilion de Bellevue to Chamounix, where I joined Mr. Adams-Reilly to take part in some expeditions which had been planned long before.

“How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger.”Euripides.

“How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger.”Euripides.

“How pleasant it is for him who is saved to remember his danger.”

Euripides.

From Ailefroide to Claux, but for the path, travel would be scarcely more easy than over the Pré de Madame Carle.116The valley is strewn with immense masses of gneiss, from the size of a large house downwards, and it is only occasionally that rockin situis seen, so covered up is it by the débris, which seems to have been derived almost entirely from the neighbouring cliffs.

It was Sunday, a“day most calm and bright.”Golden sunlight had dispersed the clouds, and was glorifying the heights, and we forgot hunger through the brilliancy of the morning and beauty of the mountains.

We meant the 26th to be a day of rest, but it was little that we found in thecabaretof Claude Giraud, and we fled before the babel of sound which rose in intensity as men descended to a depth which is unattainable by the beasts of the field, and found at the chalets of Entraigues117the peace that had been denied to us at Val Louise.

Again we were received with the most cordial hospitality. Everything that was eatable or drinkable was brought out and pressed upon us; every little curiosity was exhibited; every information that could be afforded was given; and when we retired to our clean straw, we again congratulated each other that we had escaped from the foul den which is where a good inn should be, and had cast in our lot with those who dwell in chalets. Very luxurious that straw seemed after two nights upon quartz pebbles and glacier mud, and I felt quite aggrieved (expecting it was the summons for departure) when, about midnight, the heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, and a man hem’d and ha’d to attract attention; but when it whispered,“Monsieur Edvard,”I perceived my mistake,—it was our Pelvoux companion, Monsieur Reynaud, the excellentagent-voyerof La Bessée.

Monsieur Reynaud had been invited to accompany us on the excursion that is described in this chapter, but had arrived at Val Louise after we had left, and had energetically pursued us during the night. Our idea was that a pass might be made over the high ridge called (on the French map) Crête de Bœufs Rouges,118near to the peak named Les Bans, and that it might be the shortest route in time (as it certainly would be in distance) from Val Louise, across the Central Dauphiné Alps. We had seen the northern (or Pilatte) side from the Brèche de la Meije, and it seemed to be practicable at one place near the above-mentioned mountain. More than that could not be told at a distance of eleven miles. We intended to try to hit a point on the ridge immediately above the part where it seemed to be easiest.

We left Entraigues at 3.30 on the morning of June 27, and proceeded, over very gently-inclined ground, towards the foot of[pg 168]the Pic de Bonvoisin (following in fact the route of the Col de Sellar, which leads from the Val Louise into the Val Godemar);119and at 5A.M., finding that there was no chance of obtaining a view from the bottom of the valley of the ridge over which our route was to be taken, sent Almer up the lower slopes of the Bonvoisin to reconnoitre. He telegraphed that we might proceed; and at 5.45 we quitted the snow-beds at the bottom of the valley for the slopes which rose towards the north.

The course was N.N.W., and was prodigiously steep.In less than two miles difference of latitude we rose one mile of absolute height.But the route was so far from being an exceptionally difficult one, that at 10.45 we stood on the summit of the pass, having made an ascent of more than 5000 feet in five hours, inclusive of halts.

Upon sheet 189 of the French map a glacier is laid down on the south of the Crête des Bœufs Rouges, extending along the entire length of the ridge, at its foot, from east to west. In 1864 this glacier did not exist asoneglacier, but in the place where it should have been there were several small ones, all of which were, I believe, separated from each other.120

We commenced the ascent from the Val d’Entraigues, to the west of the most western of these small glaciers, and quitted the valley by the first great gap in its cliffs after that glacier was passed. We did not take to the ice until it afforded an easier route than the rocks; then (8.30) Croz went to the front, and led with admirable skill through a maze of crevasses up to the foot of a great snowcouloir, that rose from the head of the glacier to the summit of the ridge over which we had to pass.

We had settled beforehand in London, without knowing any[pg 169]thing whatever about the place, that such a couloir as this should be in this angle; but when we got into the Val d’Entraigues, and found that it was not possible to see into the corner, our faith in its existence became less and less, until the telegraphing of Almer, who was sent up the opposite slopes to search for it, assured us that we were true prophets.

Illustration: A snow couloirA SNOW COULOIR.

A SNOW COULOIR.

Snowcouloirsare nothing more or less than gullies partly filled by snow. They are most useful institutions, and may be considered as natural highways placed, by a kind Providence, in convenient situations for getting over places which would otherwise be inac[pg 170]cessible. They are a joy to the mountaineer, and, from afar, assure him of a path when all beside is uncertain; but they are grief to novices, who, when upon steep snow, are usually seized with two notions—first, that the snow will slip, and secondly, that those who are upon it must slip too.

Nothing, perhaps, could look much more unpromising to those who do not know the virtues of couloirs than such a place as theengravingrepresents,121and if persons inexperienced in mountain craft had occasion to cross a ridge or to climb rocks, in which there were such couloirs, they would instinctively avoid them. But practised mountaineers would naturally look to them for a path, and would follow them almost as a matter of course, unless they turned out to be filled with ice, or too much swept by falling stones, or the rock at the sides proved to be of such an exceptional character as to afford an easier path than the snow.

Couloirs look prodigiously steep when seen from the front, and, so viewed, it is impossible to be certain of their inclination within many degrees. Snow, however, does actually lie at steeper angles in couloirs than in any other situations;—45° to 50° degrees is not an uncommon inclination. Even at such angles, two men with proper axes can mount on snow at the rate of 700 to 800 feet per hour. The same amount can only be accomplished in the same time on steep rocks when they are of the very easiest character, and four or five hours may be readily spent upon an equal height of difficult rocks. Snow couloirs are therefore to be commended because they economise time.

Of course, in all gullies, one is liable to be encountered by falling stones. Most of those which fall from the rocks of a couloir, sooner or later spin down the snow which fills the trough; and, as their course and pace are more clearly apparent when falling over snow than when jumping from ledge to ledge, persons with lively[pg 171]imaginations are readily impressed by them. The grooves which are usually seen wandering down the length of snow couloirs are deepened (and, perhaps, occasionally originated) by falling stones, and they are sometimes pointed out by cautious men as reasons why couloirs should not be followed. I think they are very frequently only gutters, caused by water trickling off the rocks. Whether this is so or not, one should always consider the possibility of being struck by falling stones, and, in order to lessen the risk as far as possible, should mount upon the sides of the snow, and not up its centre. Stones that come off the rocks will then generally fly over one’s head, or bound down the middle of the trough at a safe distance.

At 9.30A.M.we commenced the ascent of the couloir leading from the nameless glacier to a point in the ridge, just to the east of Mont Bans.122So far the route had been nothing more than a steep grind in an angle where little could be seen, but now views opened out in several directions, and the way began to be interesting. It was more so, perhaps, to us than to our companion M. Reynaud, who had no rest in the last night. He was, moreover, heavily laden. Science was to be regarded—his pockets were stuffed with books; heights and angles were to be observed—his knapsack was filled with instruments; hunger was to be guarded against—his shoulders were ornamented with a huge nimbus of bread, and a leg of mutton swung behind from his knapsack, looking like an overgrown tail. Being a good-hearted fellow, he had brought this food, thinking we might be in need of it. As it happened, we were well provided for, and having our own packs to carry, could not relieve him of his superfluous burdens, which, naturally, he did not like to throw away. As the angles steepened, the strain on his strength became more and more apparent. At last he began to groan. At first a most gentle and mellow groan;[pg 172]but as we rose so did his groans, till at last the cliffs were groaning in echo, and we were moved to laughter.

Croz cut the way with unflagging energy throughout the whole of the ascent, and at 10.45 we stood on the summit of our pass, intending to refresh ourselves with a good halt. Unhappily, at that moment a mist, which had been playing about the ridge, swooped down and blotted out the whole of the view on the northern side. Croz was the only one who caught a glimpse of the descent, and it was deemed advisable to push on immediately, while its recollection was fresh in his memory. We are consequently unable to tell anything about the summit of the pass, except that it lies immediately to the east of Mont Bans, and is elevated about 11,300 feet above the level of the sea. It is the highest pass in Dauphiné. We called it the Col de Pilatte.

We commenced to descend towards the Glacier de Pilatte by a slope of smooth ice, the face of which, according to the measurement of Mr. Moore, had an inclination of 54°! Croz still led, and the others followed at intervals of about 15 feet, all being tied together, and Almer occupying the responsible position of last man. The two guides were therefore about 70 feet apart. They were quite invisible to each other from the mist, and looked spectral even to us. But thestrongman could be heard by all hewing out the steps below, while every now and then the voice of thesteadyman pierced the cloud,—“Slip not, dear sirs; place well your feet: stir not until you are certain.”

For three quarters of an hour we progressed in this fashion. The axe of Croz all at once stopped.“What is the matter, Croz?”“Bergschrund, gentlemen.”“Can we get over?”“Upon my word, I don’t know; I think we must jump.”The clouds rolled away right and left as he spoke. The effect was dramatic! It was acoup de théâtre, preparatory to the“great sensation leap”which was about to be executed by the entire company.

Some unseen cause, some cliff or obstruction in the rocks underneath, had caused our wall of ice to split into two portions,[pg 173]and the huge fissure which had thus been formed extended, on each hand, as far as could be seen. We, on the slope above, were separated from the slope below by a mighty crevasse. No running up and down to look for an easier place to cross could be done on an ice-slope of 54°; the chasm had to be passed then and there.

A downward jump of 15 or 16 feet, and a forward leap of 7 or 8 feet had to be made at the same time. That is not much, you will say. It was not much; it was not the quantity, but it was the quality of the jump which gave to it its particular flavour. You had to hit a narrow ridge of ice. If that was passed, it seemed as if you might roll down for ever and ever. If it was not attained, you dropped into the crevasse below; which, although partly choked by icicles and snow that had fallen from above, was still gaping in many places, ready to receive an erratic body.

Croz untied Walker in order to get rope enough, and warning us to hold fast, sprang over the chasm. He alighted cleverly on his feet; untied himself and sent up the rope to Walker, who followed his example. It was then my turn, and I advanced to the edge of the ice. The second which followed was what is called a supreme moment. That is to say, I felt supremely ridiculous. The world seemed to revolve at a frightful pace, and my stomach to fly away. The next moment I found myself sprawling in the snow, and then, of course, vowed thatit was nothing, and prepared to encourage my friend Reynaud.

He came to the edge and made declarations. I do not believe that he was a whit more reluctant to pass the place than we others, but he was infinitely more demonstrative,—in a word, he was French. He wrung his hands,“Oh! what adiableof a place!”“It is nothing, Reynaud,”I said,“it isnothing.”“Jump,”cried the others,“jump.”But he turned round, as far as one can do such a thing in an ice-step, and covered his face with his hands, ejaculating,“Upon my word, it is not possible. No! no!! no!!! it is not possible.”

How he came over I do not know. We saw a toe—it seemed[pg 174]to belong to Moore; we saw Reynaud a flying body, coming down as if taking a header into water; with arms and legs all abroad, his leg of mutton flying in the air, his bâton escaped from his grasp; and then we heard a thud as if a bundle of carpets had been pitched out of a window. When set upon his feet he was a sorry spectacle; his head was a great snowball; brandy was trickling out of one side of the knapsack, chartreuse out of the other—we bemoaned its loss, but we roared with laughter.

This chapter has already passed the limits within which it should have been confined, but I cannot close it without paying tribute to the ability with which Croz led us, through a dense mist, down the remainder of the Glacier de Pilatte. As an exhibition of strength and skill, it has probably never been surpassed in the Alps or elsewhere. On this almost unknown and very steep glacier, he was perfectly at home, even in the mists. Never able to see fifty feet ahead, he still went on with the utmost certainty, and without having to retrace a single step; and displayed from first to last consummate knowledge of the materials with which he was dealing. Now he cut steps down one side of asérac, went with a dash at the other side, and hauled us up after him; then cut away along a ridge until a point was gained from which we could jump on to another ridge; then, doubling back, found a snow-bridge, across which he crawled on hands and knees, towed us across by the legs, ridiculing our apprehensions, mimicking our awkwardness, declining all help, bidding us only to follow him.

About 1P.M.we emerged from the mist and found ourselves just arrived upon the level portion of the glacier, having, as Reynaud properly remarked, come down as quickly as if there had not been any mist at all. Then we attacked the leg of mutton which my friend had so thoughtfully brought with him, and afterwards raced down, with renewed energy, to La Bérarde.

Reynaud and I walked together to St. Christophe, where we parted. Since then we have talked over the doings of this[pg 175]momentous day; and I know that he would not, for a good deal, have missed the passage of the Col de Pilatte, although we failed to make it an easier or a shorter route than the Col du Selé. I rejoined Moore and Walker, the same evening, at Venos, and on the next day went with them over the Lautaret road to the hospice on its summit, where we slept.

So our little campaign in Dauphiné came to an end. It was remarkable for the absence of failures, and for the ease and precision with which all our plans were carried out. This was due very much to the spirit of my companions; but it was also owing to the fine weather which we were fortunate enough to enjoy, and to our making a very early start every morning. By beginning our work at or before the break of day, on the longest days in the year, we were not only able to avoid hurrying when deliberation was desirable, but could afford to spend several hours in delightful ease whenever the fancy seized us.

I cannot too strongly recommend to tourists in search of amusement to avoid the inns of Dauphiné. Sleep in the chalets. Get what food you can from the inns, but do not as a rule attempt to pass nights in them.123Sleepin them you cannot. M. Joanne says that the inventor of the insecticide powder was a native of Dauphiné. I can well believe it. He must have often felt the necessity of such an invention in his infancy and childhood.

On June 29 I crossed the Col du Galibier to St. Michel; on the 30th, the Col des Encombres to Moutiers; on July 1, the Col du Bonhomme to Contamines; and on the 2d, by the Pavilion de Bellevue to Chamounix, where I joined Mr. Adams-Reilly to take part in some expeditions which had been planned long before.

[pg 176]CHAPTER X.THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DE TRIOLET, AND FIRST ASCENTS OF MONT DOLENT, AIGUILLE DE TRÉLATÊTE, AND AIGUILLE D’ARGENTIÈRE.“Nothing binds men so closely together as agreement in plans and desires.”Cicero.A few years ago not many persons knew from personal knowledge how extremely inaccurately the chain of Mont Blanc was delineated. In the earlier part of the century thousands had made the tour of the chain, and before the year 1860 at leastonethousand individuals had stood upon its highest summit; but out of all this number there was not one capable, willing, or able, to map the mountain which, until recently, was regarded the highest in Europe.Many persons knew that great blunders had been perpetrated, and it was notorious that even Mont Blanc itself was represented in a ludicrously incorrect manner on all sides excepting the north; but there was not, perhaps, a single individual who knew, at the time to which I refer, that errors of no less than 1000 feet had been committed in the determination of heights at each end of the chain; that some glaciers were represented of double their real dimensions; and that ridges and mountains were laid down which actually had no existence.One portion alone of the entire chain had been surveyed at the time of which I speak with anything like accuracy. It was not done (as one would have expected) by a Government, but by a private individual,—by the British De Saussure,—the late J. D. Forbes. In the year 1842, he“made a special survey of the[pg 177]Mer de Glace of Chamounix and its tributaries, which, in some of the following years, he extended by further observations, so as to include the Glacier des Bossons.”The map produced from this survey was worthy of its author; and subsequent explorers of the region he investigated have been able to detect only trivial inaccuracies in his work.In 1861, Sheet xxii. of Dufour’s Map of Switzerland appeared. It included the section of the chain of Mont Blanc that belonged to Switzerland, and this portion of the sheet was executed with the admirable fidelity and thoroughness which characterise the whole of Dufour’s unique map. The remainder of the chain (amounting to about four-fifths of the whole) was laid down after the work of previous topographers, and its wretchedness was made more apparent by contrast with the finished work of the Swiss surveyors.In 1863, Mr. Adams-Reilly, who had been travelling in the Alps during several years, resolved to attempt a survey of the unsurveyed portions of the chain of Mont Blanc. He provided himself with a good theodolite, and starting from a base-line measured by Forbes in the Valley of Chamounix, determined the positions of no less than 200 points. The accuracy of his work may be judged from the fact that, after having turned many corners and carried his observations over a distance of fifty miles, his Col Ferret“fell within 200 yards of the position assigned to it by General Dufour!”In the winter of 1863 and the spring of 1864, Mr. Reilly constructed an entirely original map from his newly-acquired data. The spaces between his trigonometrically determined points he filled in after photographs, and a series of panoramic sketches which he made from his different stations. The map so produced was an immense advance upon those already in existence, and it was the first which exhibited the great peaks in their proper positions.This extraordinary piece of work revealed Mr. Reilly to me as a man of wonderful determination and perseverance. With very small hope that my proposal would be accepted, I invited him to take part in renewed attacks on the Matterhorn. He entered[pg 178]heartily into my plans, and met me with a counter-proposition, namely, that I should accompany him on some expeditions which he had projected in the chain of Mont Blanc. The unwritten contract took this form:—I will help you to carry out your desires, and you shall assist me to carry out mine. I eagerly closed with an arrangement in which all the advantages were upon my side.At the time that Mr. Reilly was carrying on his survey, Captain Mieulet was executing another in continuation of the great map of France; for about one-half of the chain of Mont Blanc (including the whole of the valley of Chamounix) had recently become French once more. Captain Mieulet was directed to survey up to his frontier only, and the sheet which was destined to include his work was to be engraved, of course, upon the scale of the rest of the map, viz., 1/80000 of nature. But upon representations being made at head-quarters that it would be of great advantage to extend the survey as far asCourmayeur, Captain Mieulet was directed to continue his observations into the south (or Italian) side of the chain. A special sheet on the scale of 1/40000 was promptly engraved from the materials he accumulated, and was published in 1865, by order of the late Minister of War, Marshal Randon.124This sheet was admirably executed, but it included the central portion of the chain only, and a complete map was still wanting.Mr. Reilly presented his MS. map to the English Alpine Club. It was resolved that it should be published; but before it passed into the engraver’s hands its author undertook to revise it carefully. To this end he planned a number of expeditions to high points which up to that time had been regarded inaccessible, and upon some of these ascents he invited me to accompany him. Before I pass on to these expeditions, it will be convenient to devote a few lines to the topography of the chain of Mont Blanc.At the present time the chain is divided betwixt France, Switzerland, and Italy. France has the lion’s share, Switzerland[pg 179]the most fertile portion, and Italy the steepest side. It has acquired a reputation which is not extraordinary, but which is not wholly merited. It has neither the beauty of the Oberland, nor the sublimity of Dauphiné. It attracts the vulgar by the possession of the highest summit in the Alps. If that is removed, the elevation of the chain is in nowise remarkable. In fact, excluding Mont Blanc itself, the mountains of which the chain is made up are less important than those of the Oberland and the central Pennine groups. The following table will afford a ready means of comparison.125Mètres.Eng. feet1261.Mont Blanc4810 =15,7812.Grandes Jorasses4206 .13,8003.Aiguille Verte4127 .13,5404.Aiguille de Bionnassay4061 .13,3245.Les Droites4030 .13,2226.Aiguille du Géant4010 .13,1577.Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 13932 .12,900Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 23904 .12,809Aiguille de Trélatête, No. 33896 .12,7828.Aiguille d’Argentière3901 .12,7999.Aiguille de Triolet3879 .12,72610.Aiguille du Midi3843 .12,60811.Aiguille du Glacier3834 .12,57912.Mont Dolent3830 .12,56613.Aiguille du Chardonnet3823 .12,54314.Aiguille du Dru3815 .12,51715.Aiguille de Miage3680 .12,07416.Aiguille du Plan3673 .12,05117.Aiguille de Blaitière3533 .11,59118.Aiguille des Charmoz3442 .11,293The frontier-line follows the main ridge. Very little of it can be seen from the Valley of Chamounix, and from the village itself two small strips only are visible (amounting to scarcely three miles[pg 180]in length)—viz. from the summit of Mont Blanc to the Dôme du Goûter, and in the neighbourhood of the Col de Balme. All the rest is concealed by outlying ridges and by mountains of secondary importance.Mont Blanc itself is bounded by the two glaciers of Miage, the glaciers de la Brenva and du Géant, the Val Véni and the Valley of Chamounix. A long ridge runs out towards the N.N.E. from the summit, through Mont Maudit, to the Aiguille du Midi. Another ridge proceeds towards the N.W., through the Bosse du Dromadaire to the Dôme du Goûter; this then divides into two, of which one continues N.W. to the Aiguille du Goûter, and the other (which is a part of the main ridge of the chain) towards the W. to the Aiguille de Bionnassay. The two routes which are commonly followed for the ascent of Mont Blanc lie between these two principal ridges—one leading from Chamounix,viâthe Grands Mulets, the other from the village of Bionnassay,viâthe Aiguille and Dôme du Goûter.The ascent of Mont Blanc has been made from several directions besides these, and perhaps there is no single point of the compass from which the mountain cannot be ascended. But there is not the least probability that any one will discover easier ways to the summit than those already known.I believe it is correct to say that the Aiguille du Midi and the Aiguille de Miage were the only two summits in the chain of Mont Blanc which had been ascended at the beginning of 1864.127The latter of these two is a perfectly insignificant point; and the former is only a portion of one of the ridges just now mentioned, and can hardly be regarded as a mountain separate and distinct from Mont Blanc. The really great peaks of the chain were considered inaccessible, and, I think, with the exception of the Aiguille Verte, had never been assailed.The finest, as well as the highest peak in the chain (after Mont Blanc itself), is the Grandes Jorasses. The next, without a[pg 181]doubt, is the Aiguille Verte. The Aiguille de Bionnassay, which in actual height follows the Verte, should be considered as a part of Mont Blanc; and in the same way the summit called Les Droites is only a part of the ridge which culminates in the Verte. The Aiguille de Trélatête is the next on the list that is entitled to be considered a separate mountain, and is by far the most important peak (as well as the highest) at the south-west end of the chain. Then comes the Aiguille d’Argentière, which occupies the same rank at the north-east end as the last-mentioned mountain does in the south-west. The rest of the aiguilles are comparatively insignificant; and although some of them (such as the Mont Dolent) look well from low elevations, and seem to possess a certain importance, they sink into their proper places directly one arrives at a considerable altitude.The summit of the Aiguille Verte would have been one of the best stations out of all these mountains for the purposes of my friend. Its great height, and its isolated and commanding position, make it a most admirable point for viewing the intricacies of the chain; but he exercised a wise discretion in passing it by, and in selecting as our first excursion the passage of the Col de Triolet.128We slept under some big rocks on the Couvercle on the night of July 7, with the thermometer at 26·5 Faht., and at 4.30 on the 8th made a straight track to the north of the Jardin, and thence went in zigzags, to break the ascent, over the upper slopes of the Glacier de Talèfre towards the foot of the Aiguille de Triolet. Croz was still my guide, Reilly was accompanied by one of the Michel Payots of Chamounix, and Henri Charlet, of the same place, was our porter.The way was over an undulating plain of glacier of moderate inclination until the corner leading to the Col, from whence a steep secondary glacier led down into the basin of the Talèfre. We experienced no difficulty in making the ascent of this secondary[pg 182]glacier with such ice-men as Croz and Payot, and at 7.50A.M.arrived on the top of the so-called pass, at a height, according to Mieulet, of 12,162 feet, and 4530 above our camp on the Couvercle.The descent was commenced by very steep, but firm, rocks, and then by a branch of the Glacier de Triolet. Schrunds129were abundant; there were no less than five extending completely across the glacier, all of which had to be jumped. Not one was equal in dimensions to the extraordinary chasm on the Col de Pilatte, although in the aggregate they far surpassed it.“Our lives,”so Reilly expressed it,“were made a burden to us with schrunds.”We flattered ourselves that we should arrive at the chalets of Prè du Bar very early in the day; but, owing to much time being lost on the slopes of Mont Rouge, it was nearly 4P.M.before we got to them. There were no bridges across the torrent nearer than Gruetta, and rather than descend so far, we preferred to round the base of Mont Rouge, and to cross the snout of the Glacier du Mont Dolent.130We occupied the 9th with a scramble up Mont Dolent. This was a miniature ascent. It contained a little of everything. First we went up to the Col Ferret (No. 1), and had a little grind over shaly banks; then there was a little walk over grass; then a little tramp over a moraine (which, strange to say, gave a pleasant path); then a little zigzagging over the snow-covered glacier of Mont Dolent. Then there was a little bergschrund; then a little wall of snow,—which we mounted by the side of a little buttress; and when we struck the ridge descending S.E. from the summit, we found a little arête of snow leading to the highest point. The summit itself was little,—very small indeed; it was the loveliest little cone of snow that was ever piled up on mountain-top; so[pg 183]soft, so pure; it seemed a crime to defile it; it was a miniature Jungfrau, a toy summit, you could cover it with the hand.131But there was nothing little about theviewfrom the Mont Dolent. [Situated at the junction of three mountain ridges, it rises in a positive steeple far above anything in its immediate neighbourhood; and certain gaps in the surrounding ridges, which seem contrived for that especial purpose, extend the view in almost every direction. The precipices which descend to the Glacier d’Argentière I can only compare to those of the Jungfrau, and the ridges on both sides of that glacier, especially the steep rocks of Les Droites and Les Courtes, surmounted by the sharp snow-peak of the Aig. Verte, have almost the effect of the Grandes Jorasses. Then, framed, as it were, between the massive tower of the Aig. de Triolet and the more distant Jorasses, lies, without exception, the most delicately beautiful picture I have ever seen—the wholemassifof Mont Blanc, raising its great head of snow far above the tangled series of flying buttresses which uphold the Monts Maudits, supported on the left by Mont Peuteret and by the mass of ragged aiguilles which overhang the Brenva. This aspect of Mont Blanc is not new, but from this point itsposeis unrivalled, and it has all the superiority of a picture grouped by the hand of a master.... The view is as extensive, and far more lovely than that from Mont Blanc itself.]132We went down to Courmayeur, and on the afternoon of July 10 started from that place to camp on Mont Suc, for the ascent of the Aiguille de Trélatête; hopeful that the mists which were hanging about would clear away. They did not, so we deposited ourselves, and a vast load of straw, on the moraine of the Miage Glacier, just above the Lac de Combal, in a charming little hole which some solitary shepherd had excavated beneath a great slab of rock. We spent the night there, and the whole of the next day, unwilling[pg 184]to run away, and equally so to get into difficulties by venturing into the mist. It was a dull time, and I grew restless. Reilly read to me a lecture on the excellence of patience, and composed himself in an easy attitude, to pore over the pages of a yellow-covered book.“Patience,”I said to him viciously,“comes readily to fellows who have shilling novels; but I have not got one; I have picked all the mud out of the nails of my boots, and have skinned my face; what shall I do?”“Go and study the moraine of the Miage,”said he. I went, and came back after an hour.“What news?”cried Reilly, raising himself on his elbow.“Very little; it’s a big moraine, bigger than I thought, with ridge outside ridge, like a fortified camp; and there are walls upon it which have been built and loop-holed, as if for defence.”“Try again,”he said, as he threw himself on his back. But I went to Croz, who was asleep, and tickled his nose with a straw until he awoke; and then, as that amusement was played out, watched Reilly, who was getting numbed, and shifted uneasily from side to side, and threw himself on his stomach, and rested his head on his elbows, and lighted his pipe and puffed at it savagely. When I looked again, how was Reilly? An indistinguishable heap; arms, legs, head, stones, and straw, all mixed together, his hat flung on one side, his novel tossed far away! Then I went to him, and read him a lecture on the excellence of patience.Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayIllustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet dayBah! it was a dull time. Our mountain, like a beautiful coquette, sometimes unveiled herself for a moment, and looked charming above, although[pg 185]very mysterious below. It was not until eventide she allowed us to approach her; then, as darkness came on, the curtains were withdrawn, the light drapery was lifted, and we stole up on tiptoe through the grand portal formed by Mont Suc. But night advanced rapidly, and we found ourselves left out in the cold, without a hole to creep into or shelter from overhanging rock. We might have fared badly, except for our good plaids. When they were sewn together down their long edges, and one end tossed over our rope (which was passed round some rocks), and the other secured by stones, there was sufficient protection; and we slept on this exposed ridge, 9700 feet above the level of the sea, more soundly, perhaps, than if we had been lying on feather beds.Illustration: Our camp on Mont SucOUR CAMP ON MONT SUC.133We left our bivouac at 4.45A.M., and at 9.40 arrived upon the highest of the three summits of the Trélatête, by passing over the[pg 186]lowest one. It was well above everything at this end of the chain, and the view from it was extraordinarily magnificent. The whole of the western face of Mont Blanc was spread out before us; we were the first by whom it had been ever seen. I cede the description of this view to my comrade, to whom it rightfully belongs.[For four years I had felt great interest in the geography of the chain; the year before I had mapped, more or less successfully, all but this spot, and this spot had always eluded my grasp. The praises, undeserved as they were, which my map had received, were as gall and wormwood to me when I thought of that great slope which I had been obliged to leave a blank, speckled over with unmeaning dots of rock, gathered from previous maps—for I had consulted them all without meeting an intelligible representation of it. From the surface of the Miage glacier I had gained nothing, for I could only see the feet of magnificent ice-streams, and no more; but now, from the top of the dead wall of rock which had so long closed my view, I saw those fine glaciers from top to bottom, pouring down their streams, nearly as large as the Bossons, from Mont Blanc, from the Bosse, and from the Dôme.The head of Mont Blanc is supported on this side by two buttresses, between which vast glaciers descend. Of these the most southern134takes its rise at the foot of the precipices which fall steeply down from the Calotte,135and its stream, as it joins that of the Miage, is cut in two by an enormousrognonof rock. Next, to the left, comes the largest of the buttresses of which I have spoken, almost forming an aiguille in itself. The next glacier136descends from a large basin which receives the snows of the summit-ridge between the Bosse and the Dome, and it is divided from the third and last glacier137by another buttress, which joins the summit-ridge at a point between the Dôme and the Aig. de Bionnassay.]The great buttresses betwixt these magnificent ice-streams have[pg 187]supplied a large portion of the enormous masses of débris which are disposed in ridges round about, and are strewn over, the termination of the Glacier de Miage in the Val Véni. These moraines138used to be classed amongst the wonders of the world. They are very large for a glacier of the size of the Miage.The dimensions of moraines are not ruled by those of glaciers. Many small glaciers have large moraines,139and many large ones have small moraines. The size of the moraines of any glacier depends mainly upon the area of rock surface that is exposed to atmospheric influences within the basin drained by the glacier; upon the nature of such rock,—whether it is friable or resistant; and upon the dip of strata. Moraines most likely will be small if little rock surface is exposed; but when large ones are seen, then, in all probability, large areas of rock, uncovered by snow or ice, will be found in immediate contiguity to the glacier. The Miage glacier has large ones, because it receives detritus from many great cliffs and ridges. But if this glacier, instead of lying, as it does, at the bottom of a trough, were to fill that trough, if it were to completely envelope the Aiguille de Trélatête, and the other mountains which border it, and were to descend from Mont Blanc unbroken by rock or ridge, it would be as destitute of morainic matter as the greatMer de Glaceof Greenland. For if a country or district iscompletelycovered up by glacier, the moraines may be of the very smallest dimensions.140The contributions that are supplied to moraines by glaciers themselves, from the abrasion of the rocks over which their ice passes, are minute compared with the accumulations which are[pg 188]furnished from other sources. These great rubbish-heaps are formed, one may say almost entirely, from débris which falls, or is washed down the flanks of mountains, or from cliffs bordering glaciers; and are composed, to a very limited extent only, of matter that is ground, rasped, or filed off by the friction of the ice.If the contrary view were to be adopted, if it could be maintained that“glaciers,by their motion, break off masses of rock from the sides and bottoms of their valley courses, and crowd along every thing that is movable, so as to form large accumulations of débris in front, and along their sides,”141the conclusion could not be resisted, the greater the glacier, the greater should be the moraine.This doctrine does not find much favour with those who have personal knowledge of what glaciers do at the present time. From De Saussure142downwards it has been pointed out, time after time, that moraines are chiefly formed from débris coming from rocks or soilabovethe ice, not from the bed over which it passes. But amongst the writings of modern speculators upon glaciers and glacier-action in bygone times, it is not uncommon to find the notions entertained, that moraines represent the amount ofexcavation(such is the term employed) performed by glaciers, or at least are comprised of matter which has been excavated by glaciers; that vast moraines have necessarily been produced by vast glaciers; and that a great extension of glaciers necessarily causes the production of vast moraines. Such generalisations cannot be sustained.[pg 189]We descended in our track to the Lac de Combal, and from thence went over the Col de la Seigne to les Motets, where we slept; on July 13, crossed the Col du Mont Tondu to Contamines (in a sharp thunderstorm), and the Col de Voza to Chamounix. Two days only remained for excursions in this neighbourhood, and we resolved to employ them in another attempt to ascend the Aiguille d’Argentière, upon which mountain we had been cruelly defeated just eight days before.It happened in this way.—Reilly had a notion that the ascent of the Aiguille could be accomplished by following the ridge leading to its summit from the Col du Chardonnet. At half-past six, on the morning of the 6th, we found ourselves accordingly on the top of that pass. The party consisted of our friend Moore and his guide Almer, Reilly and his guide François Couttet, myself and Michel Croz. So far the weather had been calm, and the way easy; but immediately we arrived on the summit of the pass, we got into a furious wind. Five minutes earlier we were warm,—now we were frozen. Fine snow whirled up into the air penetrated every crack in our harness, and assailed our skins as painfully as if it had been red hot instead of freezing cold. The teeth chattered involuntarily—talking was laborious; the breath froze instantaneously; eating was disagreeable; sitting was impossible!We looked towards our mountain. Its aspect was not encouraging. The ridge that led upwards had a spiked arête, palisaded with miniature aiguilles, banked up at their bases by heavy snow-beds, which led down, at considerable angles, on one side towards the Glacier de Saleinoz, on the other towards the Glacier du Chardonnet. Under any circumstances, it would have been a stiff piece of work to clamber up that way. Prudence and comfort counselled,“Give it up.”Discretion overruled valour. Moore and Almer crossed the Col du Chardonnet to go to Orsières, and we others returned towards Chamounix.But when we got some distance down, the evil spirit which prompts men to ascend mountains tempted us to stop, and to look[pg 190]back at the Aiguille d’Argentière. The sky was cloudless; no wind could be felt, nor sign of it perceived; it was only eight o’clock in the morning; and there, right before us, we saw another branch of the glacier leading high up into the mountain—far above the Col du Chardonnet—and a little couloir rising from its head almost to the top of the peak. This was clearly the right route to take. We turned back, and went at it.The glacier was steep, and the snow gully rising out of it was steeper. Seven hundred steps were cut. Then the couloir becametoosteep. We took to the rocks on its left, and at last gained the ridge, at a point about 1500 feet above the Col du Chardonnet. We faced about to the right, and went along the ridge; keeping on some snow a little below its crest, on the Saleinoz side. Then we got the wind again; yet no one thought of turning, for we were within 250 feet of the summit.The axes of Croz and Couttet went to work once more, for the slope was about as steep as snow-slope could be. Its surface was covered with a loose, granular crust; dry and utterly incoherent; which slipped away in streaks directly it was meddled with. The men had to cut through this into the old beds underneath, and to pause incessantly to rake away the powdery stuff, which poured down in hissing streams over the hard substratum. Ugh! how cold it was! How the wind blew! Couttet’s hat was torn from its fastenings, and went on a tour in Switzerland. The flour-like snow, swept off the ridge above, was tossed spirally upwards, eddying intourmentes; then, dropt in lulls, or caught by other gusts, was flung far and wide to feed the Saleinoz.“My feet are getting suspiciously numbed,”cried Reilly:“how about frost-bites?”“Kick hard, sir,”shouted the men;“it’s the only way.”Theirfingers were kept alive by their work; but it was cold for the feet, and they kicked and hewed simultaneously. I followed their example too violently, and made a hole clean through my footing. A clatter followed as if crockery had been thrown down a well.[pg 191]I went down a step or two, and discovered in a second that all were standing over a cavern (not a crevasse, speaking properly) that was bridged over by a thin vault of ice, from which great icicles hung in groves. Almost in the same minute Reilly pushed one of his hands right through the roof. The whole party might have tumbled through at any moment.“Go ahead, Croz, we are over a chasm!”“We know it,”he answered,“and we can’t find a firm place.”In the blandest manner, my comrade inquired if to persevere would not be to do that which is called“tempting Providence.”My reply being in the affirmative, he further observed,“Suppose we go down?”“Very willingly.”“Ask the guides.”They had not the least objection; so we went down, and slept that night at the Montanvert.Off the ridge we were out of the wind. In fact, a hundred feet downto windward, on the slope fronting the Glacier du Chardonnet, we were broiling hot; there was not a suspicion of a breeze. Upon that side there was nothing to tell that a hurricane was raging a hundred feet higher,—the cloudless sky looked tranquillity itself: whilst to leeward the only sign of a disturbed atmosphere was the friskiness of the snow upon the crests of the ridges.We set out on the 14th, with Croz, Payot, and Charlet, to finish off the work which had been cut short so abruptly, and slept, as before, at the Chalets de Lognan. On the 15th, about midday, we arrived upon the summit of the aiguille, and found that we had actually been within one hundred feet of it when we turned back upon the first attempt.It was a triumph to Reilly. In this neighbourhood he had performed the feat (in 1863) of joining together“two mountains, each about 13,000 feet high, standing on the map about a mile and a half apart.”Long before we made the ascent he had procured evidence which could not be impugned, that the Pointe des Plines, a fictitious summit which had figured on other maps as a distinct mountain, could be no other than the Aiguille d’Argentière,[pg 192]and he had accordingly obliterated it from the preliminary draft of his map. We saw that it was right to do so. The Pointe des Plines did not exist. We had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of his previous observations.I do not know which to admire most, the fidelity of Mr. Reilly’s map, or the indefatigable industry by which the materials were accumulated from which it was constructed. To men who are sound in limb it may be amusing to arrive on a summit (as we did upon the top of Mont Dolent), sitting astride a ridge too narrow to stand upon; or to do battle with a ferocious wind (as we did on the top of the Aiguille de Trélatête); or to feel half-frozen in midsummer (as we did on the Aiguille d’Argentière). But there is extremely little amusement in making sketches and notes under such conditions. Yet upon all these expeditions, under the most adverse circumstances, and in the most trying situations, Mr. Reilly’s brain and fingers were always at work. Throughout all he was ever alike; the same genial, equable-tempered companion, whether victorious or whether defeated; always ready to sacrifice his own desires to suit our comfort and convenience. By a happy union of audacity and prudence, combined with untiring perseverance, he eventually completed his self-imposed task—a work which would have been intolerable except as a labour of love—and which, for a single individual, may well-nigh be termed Herculean.We separated upon the level part of the Glacier d’Argentière, Reilly going with Payot and Charletviâthe chalets of Lognan and de la Pendant, whilst I, with Croz, followed the right bank of the glacier to the village of Argentière.143At 7P.M.we entered the humble inn, and ten minutes afterwards heard the echoes of the cannon which were fired upon the arrival of our comrades at Chamounix.144

“Nothing binds men so closely together as agreement in plans and desires.”Cicero.

“Nothing binds men so closely together as agreement in plans and desires.”Cicero.

A few years ago not many persons knew from personal knowledge how extremely inaccurately the chain of Mont Blanc was delineated. In the earlier part of the century thousands had made the tour of the chain, and before the year 1860 at leastonethousand individuals had stood upon its highest summit; but out of all this number there was not one capable, willing, or able, to map the mountain which, until recently, was regarded the highest in Europe.

Many persons knew that great blunders had been perpetrated, and it was notorious that even Mont Blanc itself was represented in a ludicrously incorrect manner on all sides excepting the north; but there was not, perhaps, a single individual who knew, at the time to which I refer, that errors of no less than 1000 feet had been committed in the determination of heights at each end of the chain; that some glaciers were represented of double their real dimensions; and that ridges and mountains were laid down which actually had no existence.

One portion alone of the entire chain had been surveyed at the time of which I speak with anything like accuracy. It was not done (as one would have expected) by a Government, but by a private individual,—by the British De Saussure,—the late J. D. Forbes. In the year 1842, he“made a special survey of the[pg 177]Mer de Glace of Chamounix and its tributaries, which, in some of the following years, he extended by further observations, so as to include the Glacier des Bossons.”The map produced from this survey was worthy of its author; and subsequent explorers of the region he investigated have been able to detect only trivial inaccuracies in his work.

In 1861, Sheet xxii. of Dufour’s Map of Switzerland appeared. It included the section of the chain of Mont Blanc that belonged to Switzerland, and this portion of the sheet was executed with the admirable fidelity and thoroughness which characterise the whole of Dufour’s unique map. The remainder of the chain (amounting to about four-fifths of the whole) was laid down after the work of previous topographers, and its wretchedness was made more apparent by contrast with the finished work of the Swiss surveyors.

In 1863, Mr. Adams-Reilly, who had been travelling in the Alps during several years, resolved to attempt a survey of the unsurveyed portions of the chain of Mont Blanc. He provided himself with a good theodolite, and starting from a base-line measured by Forbes in the Valley of Chamounix, determined the positions of no less than 200 points. The accuracy of his work may be judged from the fact that, after having turned many corners and carried his observations over a distance of fifty miles, his Col Ferret“fell within 200 yards of the position assigned to it by General Dufour!”

In the winter of 1863 and the spring of 1864, Mr. Reilly constructed an entirely original map from his newly-acquired data. The spaces between his trigonometrically determined points he filled in after photographs, and a series of panoramic sketches which he made from his different stations. The map so produced was an immense advance upon those already in existence, and it was the first which exhibited the great peaks in their proper positions.

This extraordinary piece of work revealed Mr. Reilly to me as a man of wonderful determination and perseverance. With very small hope that my proposal would be accepted, I invited him to take part in renewed attacks on the Matterhorn. He entered[pg 178]heartily into my plans, and met me with a counter-proposition, namely, that I should accompany him on some expeditions which he had projected in the chain of Mont Blanc. The unwritten contract took this form:—I will help you to carry out your desires, and you shall assist me to carry out mine. I eagerly closed with an arrangement in which all the advantages were upon my side.

At the time that Mr. Reilly was carrying on his survey, Captain Mieulet was executing another in continuation of the great map of France; for about one-half of the chain of Mont Blanc (including the whole of the valley of Chamounix) had recently become French once more. Captain Mieulet was directed to survey up to his frontier only, and the sheet which was destined to include his work was to be engraved, of course, upon the scale of the rest of the map, viz., 1/80000 of nature. But upon representations being made at head-quarters that it would be of great advantage to extend the survey as far asCourmayeur, Captain Mieulet was directed to continue his observations into the south (or Italian) side of the chain. A special sheet on the scale of 1/40000 was promptly engraved from the materials he accumulated, and was published in 1865, by order of the late Minister of War, Marshal Randon.124This sheet was admirably executed, but it included the central portion of the chain only, and a complete map was still wanting.

Mr. Reilly presented his MS. map to the English Alpine Club. It was resolved that it should be published; but before it passed into the engraver’s hands its author undertook to revise it carefully. To this end he planned a number of expeditions to high points which up to that time had been regarded inaccessible, and upon some of these ascents he invited me to accompany him. Before I pass on to these expeditions, it will be convenient to devote a few lines to the topography of the chain of Mont Blanc.

At the present time the chain is divided betwixt France, Switzerland, and Italy. France has the lion’s share, Switzerland[pg 179]the most fertile portion, and Italy the steepest side. It has acquired a reputation which is not extraordinary, but which is not wholly merited. It has neither the beauty of the Oberland, nor the sublimity of Dauphiné. It attracts the vulgar by the possession of the highest summit in the Alps. If that is removed, the elevation of the chain is in nowise remarkable. In fact, excluding Mont Blanc itself, the mountains of which the chain is made up are less important than those of the Oberland and the central Pennine groups. The following table will afford a ready means of comparison.125

The frontier-line follows the main ridge. Very little of it can be seen from the Valley of Chamounix, and from the village itself two small strips only are visible (amounting to scarcely three miles[pg 180]in length)—viz. from the summit of Mont Blanc to the Dôme du Goûter, and in the neighbourhood of the Col de Balme. All the rest is concealed by outlying ridges and by mountains of secondary importance.

Mont Blanc itself is bounded by the two glaciers of Miage, the glaciers de la Brenva and du Géant, the Val Véni and the Valley of Chamounix. A long ridge runs out towards the N.N.E. from the summit, through Mont Maudit, to the Aiguille du Midi. Another ridge proceeds towards the N.W., through the Bosse du Dromadaire to the Dôme du Goûter; this then divides into two, of which one continues N.W. to the Aiguille du Goûter, and the other (which is a part of the main ridge of the chain) towards the W. to the Aiguille de Bionnassay. The two routes which are commonly followed for the ascent of Mont Blanc lie between these two principal ridges—one leading from Chamounix,viâthe Grands Mulets, the other from the village of Bionnassay,viâthe Aiguille and Dôme du Goûter.

The ascent of Mont Blanc has been made from several directions besides these, and perhaps there is no single point of the compass from which the mountain cannot be ascended. But there is not the least probability that any one will discover easier ways to the summit than those already known.

I believe it is correct to say that the Aiguille du Midi and the Aiguille de Miage were the only two summits in the chain of Mont Blanc which had been ascended at the beginning of 1864.127The latter of these two is a perfectly insignificant point; and the former is only a portion of one of the ridges just now mentioned, and can hardly be regarded as a mountain separate and distinct from Mont Blanc. The really great peaks of the chain were considered inaccessible, and, I think, with the exception of the Aiguille Verte, had never been assailed.

The finest, as well as the highest peak in the chain (after Mont Blanc itself), is the Grandes Jorasses. The next, without a[pg 181]doubt, is the Aiguille Verte. The Aiguille de Bionnassay, which in actual height follows the Verte, should be considered as a part of Mont Blanc; and in the same way the summit called Les Droites is only a part of the ridge which culminates in the Verte. The Aiguille de Trélatête is the next on the list that is entitled to be considered a separate mountain, and is by far the most important peak (as well as the highest) at the south-west end of the chain. Then comes the Aiguille d’Argentière, which occupies the same rank at the north-east end as the last-mentioned mountain does in the south-west. The rest of the aiguilles are comparatively insignificant; and although some of them (such as the Mont Dolent) look well from low elevations, and seem to possess a certain importance, they sink into their proper places directly one arrives at a considerable altitude.

The summit of the Aiguille Verte would have been one of the best stations out of all these mountains for the purposes of my friend. Its great height, and its isolated and commanding position, make it a most admirable point for viewing the intricacies of the chain; but he exercised a wise discretion in passing it by, and in selecting as our first excursion the passage of the Col de Triolet.128

We slept under some big rocks on the Couvercle on the night of July 7, with the thermometer at 26·5 Faht., and at 4.30 on the 8th made a straight track to the north of the Jardin, and thence went in zigzags, to break the ascent, over the upper slopes of the Glacier de Talèfre towards the foot of the Aiguille de Triolet. Croz was still my guide, Reilly was accompanied by one of the Michel Payots of Chamounix, and Henri Charlet, of the same place, was our porter.

The way was over an undulating plain of glacier of moderate inclination until the corner leading to the Col, from whence a steep secondary glacier led down into the basin of the Talèfre. We experienced no difficulty in making the ascent of this secondary[pg 182]glacier with such ice-men as Croz and Payot, and at 7.50A.M.arrived on the top of the so-called pass, at a height, according to Mieulet, of 12,162 feet, and 4530 above our camp on the Couvercle.

The descent was commenced by very steep, but firm, rocks, and then by a branch of the Glacier de Triolet. Schrunds129were abundant; there were no less than five extending completely across the glacier, all of which had to be jumped. Not one was equal in dimensions to the extraordinary chasm on the Col de Pilatte, although in the aggregate they far surpassed it.“Our lives,”so Reilly expressed it,“were made a burden to us with schrunds.”

We flattered ourselves that we should arrive at the chalets of Prè du Bar very early in the day; but, owing to much time being lost on the slopes of Mont Rouge, it was nearly 4P.M.before we got to them. There were no bridges across the torrent nearer than Gruetta, and rather than descend so far, we preferred to round the base of Mont Rouge, and to cross the snout of the Glacier du Mont Dolent.130

We occupied the 9th with a scramble up Mont Dolent. This was a miniature ascent. It contained a little of everything. First we went up to the Col Ferret (No. 1), and had a little grind over shaly banks; then there was a little walk over grass; then a little tramp over a moraine (which, strange to say, gave a pleasant path); then a little zigzagging over the snow-covered glacier of Mont Dolent. Then there was a little bergschrund; then a little wall of snow,—which we mounted by the side of a little buttress; and when we struck the ridge descending S.E. from the summit, we found a little arête of snow leading to the highest point. The summit itself was little,—very small indeed; it was the loveliest little cone of snow that was ever piled up on mountain-top; so[pg 183]soft, so pure; it seemed a crime to defile it; it was a miniature Jungfrau, a toy summit, you could cover it with the hand.131

But there was nothing little about theviewfrom the Mont Dolent. [Situated at the junction of three mountain ridges, it rises in a positive steeple far above anything in its immediate neighbourhood; and certain gaps in the surrounding ridges, which seem contrived for that especial purpose, extend the view in almost every direction. The precipices which descend to the Glacier d’Argentière I can only compare to those of the Jungfrau, and the ridges on both sides of that glacier, especially the steep rocks of Les Droites and Les Courtes, surmounted by the sharp snow-peak of the Aig. Verte, have almost the effect of the Grandes Jorasses. Then, framed, as it were, between the massive tower of the Aig. de Triolet and the more distant Jorasses, lies, without exception, the most delicately beautiful picture I have ever seen—the wholemassifof Mont Blanc, raising its great head of snow far above the tangled series of flying buttresses which uphold the Monts Maudits, supported on the left by Mont Peuteret and by the mass of ragged aiguilles which overhang the Brenva. This aspect of Mont Blanc is not new, but from this point itsposeis unrivalled, and it has all the superiority of a picture grouped by the hand of a master.... The view is as extensive, and far more lovely than that from Mont Blanc itself.]132

We went down to Courmayeur, and on the afternoon of July 10 started from that place to camp on Mont Suc, for the ascent of the Aiguille de Trélatête; hopeful that the mists which were hanging about would clear away. They did not, so we deposited ourselves, and a vast load of straw, on the moraine of the Miage Glacier, just above the Lac de Combal, in a charming little hole which some solitary shepherd had excavated beneath a great slab of rock. We spent the night there, and the whole of the next day, unwilling[pg 184]to run away, and equally so to get into difficulties by venturing into the mist. It was a dull time, and I grew restless. Reilly read to me a lecture on the excellence of patience, and composed himself in an easy attitude, to pore over the pages of a yellow-covered book.“Patience,”I said to him viciously,“comes readily to fellows who have shilling novels; but I have not got one; I have picked all the mud out of the nails of my boots, and have skinned my face; what shall I do?”“Go and study the moraine of the Miage,”said he. I went, and came back after an hour.“What news?”cried Reilly, raising himself on his elbow.“Very little; it’s a big moraine, bigger than I thought, with ridge outside ridge, like a fortified camp; and there are walls upon it which have been built and loop-holed, as if for defence.”“Try again,”he said, as he threw himself on his back. But I went to Croz, who was asleep, and tickled his nose with a straw until he awoke; and then, as that amusement was played out, watched Reilly, who was getting numbed, and shifted uneasily from side to side, and threw himself on his stomach, and rested his head on his elbows, and lighted his pipe and puffed at it savagely. When I looked again, how was Reilly? An indistinguishable heap; arms, legs, head, stones, and straw, all mixed together, his hat flung on one side, his novel tossed far away! Then I went to him, and read him a lecture on the excellence of patience.

Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet day

Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet day

Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet day

Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet day

Illustration: Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet day

Bah! it was a dull time. Our mountain, like a beautiful coquette, sometimes unveiled herself for a moment, and looked charming above, although[pg 185]very mysterious below. It was not until eventide she allowed us to approach her; then, as darkness came on, the curtains were withdrawn, the light drapery was lifted, and we stole up on tiptoe through the grand portal formed by Mont Suc. But night advanced rapidly, and we found ourselves left out in the cold, without a hole to creep into or shelter from overhanging rock. We might have fared badly, except for our good plaids. When they were sewn together down their long edges, and one end tossed over our rope (which was passed round some rocks), and the other secured by stones, there was sufficient protection; and we slept on this exposed ridge, 9700 feet above the level of the sea, more soundly, perhaps, than if we had been lying on feather beds.

Illustration: Our camp on Mont SucOUR CAMP ON MONT SUC.133

OUR CAMP ON MONT SUC.133

We left our bivouac at 4.45A.M., and at 9.40 arrived upon the highest of the three summits of the Trélatête, by passing over the[pg 186]lowest one. It was well above everything at this end of the chain, and the view from it was extraordinarily magnificent. The whole of the western face of Mont Blanc was spread out before us; we were the first by whom it had been ever seen. I cede the description of this view to my comrade, to whom it rightfully belongs.

[For four years I had felt great interest in the geography of the chain; the year before I had mapped, more or less successfully, all but this spot, and this spot had always eluded my grasp. The praises, undeserved as they were, which my map had received, were as gall and wormwood to me when I thought of that great slope which I had been obliged to leave a blank, speckled over with unmeaning dots of rock, gathered from previous maps—for I had consulted them all without meeting an intelligible representation of it. From the surface of the Miage glacier I had gained nothing, for I could only see the feet of magnificent ice-streams, and no more; but now, from the top of the dead wall of rock which had so long closed my view, I saw those fine glaciers from top to bottom, pouring down their streams, nearly as large as the Bossons, from Mont Blanc, from the Bosse, and from the Dôme.

The head of Mont Blanc is supported on this side by two buttresses, between which vast glaciers descend. Of these the most southern134takes its rise at the foot of the precipices which fall steeply down from the Calotte,135and its stream, as it joins that of the Miage, is cut in two by an enormousrognonof rock. Next, to the left, comes the largest of the buttresses of which I have spoken, almost forming an aiguille in itself. The next glacier136descends from a large basin which receives the snows of the summit-ridge between the Bosse and the Dome, and it is divided from the third and last glacier137by another buttress, which joins the summit-ridge at a point between the Dôme and the Aig. de Bionnassay.]

The great buttresses betwixt these magnificent ice-streams have[pg 187]supplied a large portion of the enormous masses of débris which are disposed in ridges round about, and are strewn over, the termination of the Glacier de Miage in the Val Véni. These moraines138used to be classed amongst the wonders of the world. They are very large for a glacier of the size of the Miage.

The dimensions of moraines are not ruled by those of glaciers. Many small glaciers have large moraines,139and many large ones have small moraines. The size of the moraines of any glacier depends mainly upon the area of rock surface that is exposed to atmospheric influences within the basin drained by the glacier; upon the nature of such rock,—whether it is friable or resistant; and upon the dip of strata. Moraines most likely will be small if little rock surface is exposed; but when large ones are seen, then, in all probability, large areas of rock, uncovered by snow or ice, will be found in immediate contiguity to the glacier. The Miage glacier has large ones, because it receives detritus from many great cliffs and ridges. But if this glacier, instead of lying, as it does, at the bottom of a trough, were to fill that trough, if it were to completely envelope the Aiguille de Trélatête, and the other mountains which border it, and were to descend from Mont Blanc unbroken by rock or ridge, it would be as destitute of morainic matter as the greatMer de Glaceof Greenland. For if a country or district iscompletelycovered up by glacier, the moraines may be of the very smallest dimensions.140

The contributions that are supplied to moraines by glaciers themselves, from the abrasion of the rocks over which their ice passes, are minute compared with the accumulations which are[pg 188]furnished from other sources. These great rubbish-heaps are formed, one may say almost entirely, from débris which falls, or is washed down the flanks of mountains, or from cliffs bordering glaciers; and are composed, to a very limited extent only, of matter that is ground, rasped, or filed off by the friction of the ice.

If the contrary view were to be adopted, if it could be maintained that“glaciers,by their motion, break off masses of rock from the sides and bottoms of their valley courses, and crowd along every thing that is movable, so as to form large accumulations of débris in front, and along their sides,”141the conclusion could not be resisted, the greater the glacier, the greater should be the moraine.

This doctrine does not find much favour with those who have personal knowledge of what glaciers do at the present time. From De Saussure142downwards it has been pointed out, time after time, that moraines are chiefly formed from débris coming from rocks or soilabovethe ice, not from the bed over which it passes. But amongst the writings of modern speculators upon glaciers and glacier-action in bygone times, it is not uncommon to find the notions entertained, that moraines represent the amount ofexcavation(such is the term employed) performed by glaciers, or at least are comprised of matter which has been excavated by glaciers; that vast moraines have necessarily been produced by vast glaciers; and that a great extension of glaciers necessarily causes the production of vast moraines. Such generalisations cannot be sustained.

We descended in our track to the Lac de Combal, and from thence went over the Col de la Seigne to les Motets, where we slept; on July 13, crossed the Col du Mont Tondu to Contamines (in a sharp thunderstorm), and the Col de Voza to Chamounix. Two days only remained for excursions in this neighbourhood, and we resolved to employ them in another attempt to ascend the Aiguille d’Argentière, upon which mountain we had been cruelly defeated just eight days before.

It happened in this way.—Reilly had a notion that the ascent of the Aiguille could be accomplished by following the ridge leading to its summit from the Col du Chardonnet. At half-past six, on the morning of the 6th, we found ourselves accordingly on the top of that pass. The party consisted of our friend Moore and his guide Almer, Reilly and his guide François Couttet, myself and Michel Croz. So far the weather had been calm, and the way easy; but immediately we arrived on the summit of the pass, we got into a furious wind. Five minutes earlier we were warm,—now we were frozen. Fine snow whirled up into the air penetrated every crack in our harness, and assailed our skins as painfully as if it had been red hot instead of freezing cold. The teeth chattered involuntarily—talking was laborious; the breath froze instantaneously; eating was disagreeable; sitting was impossible!

We looked towards our mountain. Its aspect was not encouraging. The ridge that led upwards had a spiked arête, palisaded with miniature aiguilles, banked up at their bases by heavy snow-beds, which led down, at considerable angles, on one side towards the Glacier de Saleinoz, on the other towards the Glacier du Chardonnet. Under any circumstances, it would have been a stiff piece of work to clamber up that way. Prudence and comfort counselled,“Give it up.”Discretion overruled valour. Moore and Almer crossed the Col du Chardonnet to go to Orsières, and we others returned towards Chamounix.

But when we got some distance down, the evil spirit which prompts men to ascend mountains tempted us to stop, and to look[pg 190]back at the Aiguille d’Argentière. The sky was cloudless; no wind could be felt, nor sign of it perceived; it was only eight o’clock in the morning; and there, right before us, we saw another branch of the glacier leading high up into the mountain—far above the Col du Chardonnet—and a little couloir rising from its head almost to the top of the peak. This was clearly the right route to take. We turned back, and went at it.

The glacier was steep, and the snow gully rising out of it was steeper. Seven hundred steps were cut. Then the couloir becametoosteep. We took to the rocks on its left, and at last gained the ridge, at a point about 1500 feet above the Col du Chardonnet. We faced about to the right, and went along the ridge; keeping on some snow a little below its crest, on the Saleinoz side. Then we got the wind again; yet no one thought of turning, for we were within 250 feet of the summit.

The axes of Croz and Couttet went to work once more, for the slope was about as steep as snow-slope could be. Its surface was covered with a loose, granular crust; dry and utterly incoherent; which slipped away in streaks directly it was meddled with. The men had to cut through this into the old beds underneath, and to pause incessantly to rake away the powdery stuff, which poured down in hissing streams over the hard substratum. Ugh! how cold it was! How the wind blew! Couttet’s hat was torn from its fastenings, and went on a tour in Switzerland. The flour-like snow, swept off the ridge above, was tossed spirally upwards, eddying intourmentes; then, dropt in lulls, or caught by other gusts, was flung far and wide to feed the Saleinoz.

“My feet are getting suspiciously numbed,”cried Reilly:“how about frost-bites?”“Kick hard, sir,”shouted the men;“it’s the only way.”Theirfingers were kept alive by their work; but it was cold for the feet, and they kicked and hewed simultaneously. I followed their example too violently, and made a hole clean through my footing. A clatter followed as if crockery had been thrown down a well.

I went down a step or two, and discovered in a second that all were standing over a cavern (not a crevasse, speaking properly) that was bridged over by a thin vault of ice, from which great icicles hung in groves. Almost in the same minute Reilly pushed one of his hands right through the roof. The whole party might have tumbled through at any moment.“Go ahead, Croz, we are over a chasm!”“We know it,”he answered,“and we can’t find a firm place.”

In the blandest manner, my comrade inquired if to persevere would not be to do that which is called“tempting Providence.”My reply being in the affirmative, he further observed,“Suppose we go down?”“Very willingly.”“Ask the guides.”They had not the least objection; so we went down, and slept that night at the Montanvert.

Off the ridge we were out of the wind. In fact, a hundred feet downto windward, on the slope fronting the Glacier du Chardonnet, we were broiling hot; there was not a suspicion of a breeze. Upon that side there was nothing to tell that a hurricane was raging a hundred feet higher,—the cloudless sky looked tranquillity itself: whilst to leeward the only sign of a disturbed atmosphere was the friskiness of the snow upon the crests of the ridges.

We set out on the 14th, with Croz, Payot, and Charlet, to finish off the work which had been cut short so abruptly, and slept, as before, at the Chalets de Lognan. On the 15th, about midday, we arrived upon the summit of the aiguille, and found that we had actually been within one hundred feet of it when we turned back upon the first attempt.

It was a triumph to Reilly. In this neighbourhood he had performed the feat (in 1863) of joining together“two mountains, each about 13,000 feet high, standing on the map about a mile and a half apart.”Long before we made the ascent he had procured evidence which could not be impugned, that the Pointe des Plines, a fictitious summit which had figured on other maps as a distinct mountain, could be no other than the Aiguille d’Argentière,[pg 192]and he had accordingly obliterated it from the preliminary draft of his map. We saw that it was right to do so. The Pointe des Plines did not exist. We had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of his previous observations.

I do not know which to admire most, the fidelity of Mr. Reilly’s map, or the indefatigable industry by which the materials were accumulated from which it was constructed. To men who are sound in limb it may be amusing to arrive on a summit (as we did upon the top of Mont Dolent), sitting astride a ridge too narrow to stand upon; or to do battle with a ferocious wind (as we did on the top of the Aiguille de Trélatête); or to feel half-frozen in midsummer (as we did on the Aiguille d’Argentière). But there is extremely little amusement in making sketches and notes under such conditions. Yet upon all these expeditions, under the most adverse circumstances, and in the most trying situations, Mr. Reilly’s brain and fingers were always at work. Throughout all he was ever alike; the same genial, equable-tempered companion, whether victorious or whether defeated; always ready to sacrifice his own desires to suit our comfort and convenience. By a happy union of audacity and prudence, combined with untiring perseverance, he eventually completed his self-imposed task—a work which would have been intolerable except as a labour of love—and which, for a single individual, may well-nigh be termed Herculean.

We separated upon the level part of the Glacier d’Argentière, Reilly going with Payot and Charletviâthe chalets of Lognan and de la Pendant, whilst I, with Croz, followed the right bank of the glacier to the village of Argentière.143At 7P.M.we entered the humble inn, and ten minutes afterwards heard the echoes of the cannon which were fired upon the arrival of our comrades at Chamounix.144

Back to IndexNext