THROUGH GLOOM TO THE GRIMSEL. 1858.
As we looked from the heights, we could see that the valley through which our route lay was filled with gray fog: into this we soon plunged, and through it we made our way towards the Abschwung. The inclination of the glacier was our only guide, for we could see nothing. Reaching the confluence of the Finsteraar and Lauteraar branches, we went downwards with long swinging strides, close alongside the medial moraine of the trunk glacier. The glory of the morning had its check in the dull gloom of the evening. Across streams, amid dirt-cones and glacier-tables, and over the long reach of shingle which covers the end of the glacier, we plodded doggedly, and reached the Grimsel at 7p.m., the journey having cost a little more than 14 hours.
ANCIENT GLACIER ACTION. 1858.
We made the Grimsel our station for a day, which was spent in examining the evidences of ancient glacier action in the valley of Hasli. Near the Hospice, but at the opposite side of the Aar, rises a mountain-wall of hard granite, on which the flutings and groovings are magnificently preserved. After a little practice the eye can trace with the utmost precision the line which marks the level of the ancient ice: above this the crags are sharp and rugged; while below it the mighty grinder has rubbed off the pinnacles of the rocks and worn their edges away. The height to which this action extends must be nearly two thousand feet above the bed of the present valley. It is also easy to see the depth to which the riverhas worked its channel into the ancient rocks. In some cases the road from Guttanen to the Grimsel lay right over the polished rocks, asperities being supplied by the chisel of man in order to prevent travellers from slipping on their slopes. Here and there also huge protuberant crags were rounded into domes almost as perfect as if chiselled by art. To both my companion and myself this walk was full of instruction and delight.
On the 28th of July we crossed the Grimsel pass, and traced the scratchings to the very top of it. Ramsay remarked that their direction changed high up the pass, as if a tributary from the summit had produced them, while lower down they merged into the general direction of the glacier which had filled the principal valley. From the summit of the Mayenwand we had a clear view of the glacier of the Rhone; and to see the lower portion of this glacier to advantage no better position can be chosen. The dislocation of its cascade, the spreading out of the ice below, its system of radial crevasses, and the transverse sweep of its structural groovings, may all be seen. A few hours afterwards we were among the wild chasms at the brow of the ice-fall, where we worked our way to the centre of the ice, but were unable to attain the opposite side.
Having examined the glacier both above and below the cascade, we went down the valley to Viesch, and ascended thence, on the 30th of July, to the Hôtel Jungfrau on the slopes of the Æggischhorn. On the following day we climbed to the summit of the mountain, and from a sheltered nook enjoyed the glorious prospect which it commands. The wind was strong, and fleecy clouds flew over the heavens; some of which, as they formed and dispersed themselves about the flanks of the Aletschhorn, showed extraordinary iridescences.
THE MÄRJELEN SEE. 1858.
The sunbeams called us early on the morning of the 1stof August. No cloud rested on the opposite range of the Valais mountains, but on looking towards the Æggischhorn we found a cap upon its crest; we looked again—the cap had disappeared and a serene heaven stretched overhead. As we breasted the alp the moon was still in the sky, paling more and more before the advancing day; a single hawk swung in the atmosphere above us; clear streams babbled from the hills, the louder sounds reposing on a base of music; while groups of cows with tinkling bells browsed upon the green alp. Here and there the grass was dispossessed, and the flanks of the mountain were covered by the blocks which had been cast down from the summit. On reaching the plateau at the base of the final pyramid, we rounded the mountain to the right and came over the lonely and beautiful Märjelen See. No doubt the hollow which this lake fills had been scooped out in former ages by a branch of the Aletsch glacier; but long ago the blue ice gave place to blue water. The glacier bounds it at one side by a vertical wall of ice sixty feet in height: this is incessantly undermined, a roof of crystal being formed over the water, till at length the projecting mass, becoming too heavy for its own rigidity, breaks and tumbles into the lake. Here, attacked by sun and air, its blue surface is rendered dazzlingly white, and several icebergs of this kind now floated in the sunlight; the water was of a glassy smoothness, and in its blue depths each ice mass doubled itself by reflection.[A]
THE ALETSCH GLACIER. 1858.
The Aletsch is the grandest glacier in the Alps: over it we now stood, while the bounding mountains poured vast feeders into the noble stream. The Jungfrau was in front of us without a cloud, and apparently so near that I proposed to my guide to try it without further preparation. He was enthusiastic at first, but caution afterwards got thebetter of his courage. At some distance up the glacier the snow-line was distinctly drawn, and from its edge upwards the mighty shoulders of the hills were heavy laden with the still powdery material of the glacier.
Amid blocks and débris we descended to the ice: the portion of it which bounded the lake had been sapped, and a space of a foot existed between ice and water: numerous chasms were formed here, the mass being thus broken, preparatory to being sent adrift upon the lake. We crossed the glacier to its centre, and looking down it the grand peaks of the Mischabel, the noble cone of the Weisshorn, and the dark and stern obelisk of the Matterhorn, formed a splendid picture. Looking upwards, a series of most singularly contorted dirt-bands revealed themselves upon the surface of the ice. I sought to trace them to their origin, but was frustrated by the snow which overspread the upper portion of the glacier. Along this we marched for three hours, and came at length to the junction of the four tributary valleys which pour their frozen streams into the great trunk valley. The glory of the day, and that joy of heart which perfect health confers, may have contributed to produce the impression, but I thought I had never seen anything to rival in magnificence the region in the heart of which we now found ourselves. We climbed the mountain on the right-hand side of the glacier, where, seated amid the riven and weather-worn crags, we fed our souls for hours on the transcendent beauty of the scene.
A CHAMOIS DECEIVED. 1858.
We afterwards redescended to the glacier, which at this place was intersected by large transverse crevasses, many of which were apparently filled with snow, while over others a thin and treacherous roof was thrown. In some cases the roof had broken away, and revealed rows of icicles of great length and transparency pendent from the edges. We at length turned our faces homewards, andlooking down the glacier I saw at a great distance something moving on the ice. I first thought it was a man, though it seemed strange that a man should be there alone. On drawing my guide's attention to it he at once pronounced it to be a chamois, and I with my telescope immediately verified his statement. The creature bounded up the glacier at intervals, and sometimes the vigour of its spring showed that it had projected itself over a crevasse. It approached us sometimes at full gallop: then would stop, look toward us, pipe loudly, and commence its race once more. It evidently made the reciprocal mistake to my own, imagining us to be of its own kith and kin. We sat down upon the ice the better to conceal our forms, and to its whistle our guide whistled in reply. A joyous rush was the creature's first response to the signal; but it afterwards began to doubt, and its pauses became more frequent. Its form at times was extremely graceful, the head erect in the air, its apparent uprightness being augmented by the curvature which threw its horns back. I watched the animal through my glass until I could see the glistening of its eyes; but soon afterwards it made a final pause, assured itself of its error, and flew with the speed of the wind to its refuge in the mountains.
FOOTNOTES:[A]A painting of this exquisite lake has been recently executed by Mr. George Barnard.
[A]A painting of this exquisite lake has been recently executed by Mr. George Barnard.
[A]A painting of this exquisite lake has been recently executed by Mr. George Barnard.
MY GUIDE. 1858.
Since my arrival at the hotel on the 30th of July I had once or twice spoken about ascending the Finsteraarhorn, and on the 2nd of August my host advised me to avail myself of the promising weather. A guide, named Bennen, was attached to the hotel, a remarkable-looking man, between 30 and 40 years old, of middle stature, but very strongly built. His countenance was frank and firm, while a light of good-nature at times twinkled in his eye. Altogether the man gave me the impression of physical strength, combined with decision of character. The proprietor had spoken to me many times of the strength and courage of this man, winding up his praises of him by the assurance that if I were killed in Bennen's company there would be two lives lost, for that the guide would assuredly sacrifice himself in the effort to save hisHerr.
He was called, and I asked him whether he would accompany me alone to the top of the Finsteraarhorn. To this he at first objected, urging the possibility of his having to render me assistance, and the great amount of labour which this might entail upon him; but this was overruled by my engaging to follow where he led, without asking him to render me any help whatever. He then agreed to make the trial, stipulating, however, that he should not have much to carry to the cave of the Faulberg, where we were to spend the night. To this I cordially agreed, and sent on blankets, provisions, wood, and hay, by two porters.
IRIDESCENT CLOUD. 1858.
My desire, in part, was to make a series of observations at the summit of the mountain, while a similar series was made by Professor Ramsay in the valley of the Rhone, nearViesch, with a view to ascertaining the permeability of the lower strata of the atmosphere to the radiant heat of the sun. During the forenoon of the 2nd I occupied myself with my instruments, and made the proper arrangements with Ramsay. I tested a mountain-thermometer which Mr. Casella had kindly lent me, and found the boiling point of water on the dining-room table of the hotel to be 199.29° Fahrenheit. At about three o'clock in the afternoon we quitted the hotel, and proceeded leisurely with our two guides up the slope of the Æggischhorn. We once caught a sight of the topmost pinnacle of the Finsteraarhorn; beside it was the Rothhorn, and near this again the Oberaarhorn, with the Viescher glacier streaming from its shoulders. On the opposite side we could see, over an oblique buttress of the mountain on which we stood, the snowy summit of the Weisshorn; to the left of this was the ever grim and lonely Matterhorn; and farther to the left, with its numerous snow-cones, each with its attendant shadow, rose the mighty Mischabel. We descended, and crossed the stream which flows from the Märjelen See, into which a large mass of the glacier had recently fallen, and was now afloat as an iceberg. We passed along the margin of the lake, and at the junction of water and ice I bade Ramsay good-bye. At the commencement of our journey upon the ice, whenever we crossed a crevasse, I noticed Bennen watching me; his vigilance, however, soon diminished, whence I gathered that he finally concluded that I was able to take care of myself. Clouds hovered in the atmosphere throughout the whole time of our ascent; one smoky-looking mass marred the glory of the sunset, but at some distance was another which exhibited colours almost as rich and varied as those of the solar spectrum. I took the glorious banner thus unfurled as a sign of hope, to check the despondency which its gloomy neighbour was calculated to produce.
EVENING NEAR THE JUNGFRAU. 1858.
Two hours' walking brought us near our place of rest; the porters had already reached it, and were now returning. We deviated to the right, and, having crossed some ice-ravines, reached the lateral moraine of the glacier, and picked our way between it and the adjacent mountain-wall. We then reached a kind of amphitheatre, crossed it, and climbing the opposite slope, came to a triple grotto formed by clefts in the mountain. In one of these a pine-fire was soon blazing briskly, and casting its red light upon the surrounding objects, though but half dispelling the gloom from the deeper portions of the cell. I left the grotto, and climbed the rocks above it to look at the heavens. The sun had quitted our firmament, but still tinted the clouds with red and purple; while one peak of snow in particular glowed like fire, so vivid was its illumination. During our journey upwards the Jungfrau never once showed her head, but, as if in ill temper, had wrapped her vapoury veil around her. She now looked more good-humoured, but still she did not quite remove her hood; though all the other summits, without a trace of cloud to mask their beautiful forms, pointed heavenward. The calmness was perfect; no sound of living creature, no whisper of a breeze, no gurgle of water, no rustle of débris, to break the deep and solemn silence. Surely, if beauty be an object of worship, those glorious mountains, with rounded shoulders of the purest white—snow-crested and star-gemmed—were well calculated to excite sentiments of adoration.
THE CAVE OF THE FAULBERG. 1858.
I returned to the grotto, where supper was prepared and waiting for me. The boiling point of water, at the level of the "kitchen" floor, I found to be 196° Fahr. Nothing could be more picturesque than the aspect of the cave before we went to rest. The fire was gleaming ruddily. I sat upon a stone bench beside it, while Bennen was in front with the red light glimmering fitfully over him. Myboiling-water apparatus, which had just been used, was in the foreground; and telescopes, opera-glasses, haversacks, wine-keg, bottles, and mattocks, lay confusedly around. The heavens continued to grow clearer, the thin clouds, which had partially overspread the sky, melting gradually away. The grotto was comfortable; the hay sufficient materially to modify the hardness of the rock, and my position at least sheltered and warm. One possibility remained that might prevent me from sleeping—the snoring of my companion; he assured me, however, that he did not snore, and we lay down side by side. The good fellow took care that I should not be chilled; he gave me the best place, by far the best part of the clothes, and may have suffered himself in consequence; but, happily for him, he was soon oblivious of this. Physiologists, I believe, have discovered that it is chiefly during sleep that the muscles are repaired; and ere long the sound I dreaded announced to me at once the repair of Bennen's muscles and the doom of my own. The hollow cave resounded to the deep-drawn snore. I once or twice stirred the sleeper, breaking thereby the continuity of the phenomenon; but it instantly pieced itself together again, and went on as before. I had not the heart to wake him, for I knew that upon him would devolve the chief labour of the coming day. At half-past one he rose and prepared coffee, and at two o'clock I was engaged upon the beverage. We afterwards packed up our provisions and instruments. Bennen bore the former, I the latter, and at three o'clock we set out.
"SHALL WE TRY THE JUNGFRAU?" 1858.
We first descended a steep slope to the glacier, along which we walked for a time. A spur of the Faulberg jutted out between us and the ice-laden valley through which we must pass; this we crossed in order to shorten our way and to avoid crevasses. Loose shingle and boulders overlaid the mountain; and here and there walls of rock opposed our progress, and rendered the route far fromagreeable. We then descended to the Grünhorn tributary, which joins the trunk glacier at nearly a right angle, being terminated by a saddle which stretches across from mountain to mountain, with a curvature as graceful and as perfect as if drawn by the instrument of a mathematician. The unclouded moon was shining, and the Jungfrau was before us so pure and beautiful, that the thought of visiting the "Maiden" without further preparation occurred to me. I turned to Bennen, and said, "Shall we try the Jungfrau?" I think he liked the idea well enough, though he cautiously avoided incurring any responsibility. "If you desire it, I am ready," was his reply. He had never made the ascent, and nobody knew anything of the state of the snow this year; but Lauener had examined it through a telescope on the previous day, and pronounced it dangerous. In every ascent of the mountain hitherto made, ladders had been found indispensable, but we had none. I questioned Bennen as to what he thought of the probabilities, and tried to extract some direct encouragement from him; but he said that the decision rested altogether with myself, and it was his business to endeavour to carry out that decision. "We will attempt it, then," I said, and for some time we actually walked towards the Jungfrau. A gray cloud drew itself across her summit, and clung there. I asked myself why I deviated from my original intention? The Finsteraarhorn was higher, and therefore better suited for the contemplated observations. I could in no wise justify the change, and finally expressed my scruples. A moment's further conversation caused us to "right about," and front the saddle of the Grünhorn.
MAGNIFICENT SCENE. 1858.
The dawn advanced. The eastern sky became illuminated and warm, and high in the air across the ridge in front of us stretched a tongue of cloud like a red flame, and equally fervid in its hue. Looking across the trunkglacier, a valley which is terminated by the Lötsch saddle was seen in a straight line with our route, and I often turned to look along this magnificent corridor. The mightiest mountains in the Oberland form its sides; still, the impression which it makes is not that of vastness or sublimity, but of loveliness not to be described. The sun had not yet smitten the snows of the bounding mountains, but the saddle carved out a segment of the heavens which formed a background of unspeakable beauty. Over the rim of the saddle the sky was deep orange, passing upwards through amber, yellow, and vague ethereal green to the ordinary firmamental blue. Right above the snow-curve purple clouds hung perfectly motionless, giving depth to the spaces between them. There was something saintly in the scene. Anything more exquisite I had never beheld.
We marched upwards over the smooth crisp snow to the crest of the saddle, and here I turned to take a last look along that grand corridor, and at that wonderful "daffodil sky." The sun's rays had already smitten the snows of the Aletschhorn; the radiance seemed to infuse a principle of life and activity into the mountains and glaciers, but still that holy light shone forth, and those motionless clouds floated beyond, reminding one of that eastern religion whose essence is the repression of all action and the substitution for it of immortal calm. The Finsteraarhorn now fronted us; but clouds turbaned the head of the giant, and hid it from our view. The wind, however, being north, inspired us with a strong hope that they would melt as the day advanced. I have hardly seen a finer ice-field than that which now lay before us. Considering thenévéwhich supplies it, it appeared to me that the Viescher glacier ought to discharge as much ice as the Aletsch; but this is an error due to the extent ofnévéwhich is here at once visible: since a glance at the map of this portionof the Oberland shows at once the great superiority of the mountain treasury from which the Aletsch glacier draws support. Still, the ice-field before us was a most noble one. The surrounding mountains were of imposing magnitude, and loaded to their summits with snow. Down the sides of some of them the half-consolidated mass fell in a state of wild fracture and confusion. In some cases the riven masses were twisted and overturned, the ledges bent, and the detached blocks piled one upon another in heaps; while in other cases the smooth white mass descended from crown to base without a wrinkle. The valley now below us was gorged by the frozen material thus incessantly poured into it. We crossed it, and reached the base of the Finsteraarhorn, ascended the mountain a little way, and at six o'clock paused to lighten our burdens and to refresh ourselves.
THE MOUNTAIN ASSAILED. 1858.
The north wind had freshened, we were in the shade, and the cold was very keen. Placing a bottle of tea and a small quantity of provisions in the knapsack, and a few figs and dried prunes in our pockets, we commenced the ascent. The Finsteraarhorn sends down a number of cliffy buttresses, separated from each other by wide couloirs filled with ice and snow. We ascended one of these buttresses for a time, treading cautiously among the spiky rocks; afterwards we went along the snow at the edge of the spine, and then fairly parted company with the rock, abandoning ourselves to thenévéof the couloir. The latter was steep, and the snow was so firm that steps had to be cut in it. Once I paused upon a little ledge, which gave me a slight footing, and took the inclination. The slope formed an angle of 45° with the horizon; and across it, at a little distance below me, a gloomy fissure opened its jaws. The sun now cleared the summits which had before cut off his rays, and burst upon us with great power, compelling us to resort toour veils and dark spectacles. Two years before, Bennen had been nearly blinded by inflammation brought on by the glare from the snow, and he now took unusual care in protecting his eyes. The rocks looking more practicable, we again made towards them, and clambered among them till a vertical precipice, which proved impossible of ascent, fronted us. Bennen scanned the obstacle closely as we slowly approached it, and finally descended to the snow, which wound at a steep angle round its base: on this the footing appeared to me to be singularly insecure, but I marched without hesitation or anxiety in the footsteps of my guide.
THE CREST OF ROCKS. 1858.
We ascended the rocks once more, continued along them for some time, and then deviated to the couloir on our left. This snow-slope is much dislocated at its lower portion, and above its precipices and crevasses our route now lay. The snow was smooth, and sufficiently firm and steep to render the cutting of steps necessary. Bennen took the lead: to make each step he swung his mattock once, and his hindmost foot rose exactly at the moment the mattock descended; there was thus a kind of rhythm in his motion, the raising of the foot keeping time to the swing of the implement. In this manner we proceeded till we reached the base of the rocky pyramid which caps the mountain.
THE SUMMIT GAINED. 1858.
One side of the pyramid had been sliced off, thus dropping down almost a sheer precipice for some thousands of feet to the Finsteraar glacier. A wall of rock, about 10 or 15 feet high, runs along the edge of the mountain, and this sheltered us from the north wind, which surged with the sound of waves against the tremendous barrier at the other side. "Our hardest work is now before us," said my guide. Our way lay up the steep and splintered rocks, among which we sought out the spikes which were closely enough wedged to bear ourweight. Each had to trust to himself, and I fulfilled to the letter my engagement with Bennen to ask no help. My boiling-water apparatus and telescope were on my back, much to my annoyance, as the former was heavy, and sometimes swung awkwardly round as I twisted myself among the cliffs. Bennen offered to take it, but he had his own share to carry, and I was resolved to bear mine. Sometimes the rocks alternated with spaces of ice and snow, which we were at intervals compelled to cross; sometimes, when the slope was pure ice and very steep, we were compelled to retreat to the highest cliffs. The wall to which I have referred had given way in some places, and through the gaps thus formed the wind rushed with a loud, wild, wailing sound. Through these spaces I could see the entire field of Agassiz's observations; the junction of the Lauteraar and Finsteraar glaciers at the Abschwung, the medial moraine between them, on which stood the Hôtel des Neufchâtelois, and the pavilion built by M. Dollfuss, in which Huxley and myself had found shelter two years before. Bennen was evidently anxious to reach the summit, and recommended all observations to be postponed until after our success had been assured. I agreed to this, and kept close at his heels. Strong as he was, he sometimes paused, laid his head upon his mattock, and panted like a chased deer. He complained of fearful thirst, and to quench it we had only my bottle of tea: this we shared loyally, my guide praising its virtues, as well he might. Still the summit loomed above us; still the angry swell of the north wind, beating against the torn battlements of the mountain, made wild music. Upward, however, we strained; and at last, on gaining the crest of a rock, Bennen exclaimed, in a jubilant voice, "Die höchste Spitze!"—the highest point. In a moment I was at his side, and saw the summit within a few paces of us. A minute or two placed us uponthe topmost-pinnacle, with the blue dome of heaven above us, and a world of mountains, clouds, and glaciers beneath.
A notion is entertained by many of the guides that if you go to sleep at the summit of any of the highest mountains, you will
"Sleep the sleep that knows no waking."
THERMOMETER PLACED. 1858.
Bennen did not appear to entertain this superstition; and before starting in the morning, I had stipulated for ten minutes' sleep on reaching the summit, as part compensation for the loss of the night's rest. My first act, after casting a glance over the glorious scene beneath us, was to take advantage of this agreement; so I lay down and had five minutes' sleep, from which I rose refreshed and brisk. The sun at first beat down upon us with intense force, and I exposed my thermometers; but thin veils of vapour soon drew themselves before the sun, and denser mists spread over the valley of the Rhone, thus destroying all possibility of concert between Ramsay and myself. I turned therefore to my boiling-water apparatus, filled it with snow, melted the first charge, put more in, and boiled it; ascertaining the boiling point to be 187° Fahrenheit. On a sheltered ledge, about two or three yards south of the highest point, I placed a minimum-thermometer, in the hope that it would enable us in future years to record the lowest winter temperatures at the summit of the mountain.[A]
SCENE FROM THE SUMMIT. 1858.
It is difficult to convey any just impression of the scene from the summit of the Finsteraarhorn: one might, it is true, arrange the visible mountains in a list, stating their heights and distances, and leaving the imagination to furnish them with peaks and pinnacles, to build the precipices, polish the snow, rend the glaciers, and cap the highest summits with appropriate clouds. But if imagination did its best in this way, it would hardly exceed the reality, and would certainly omit many details which contribute to the grandeur of the scene itself. The various shapes of the mountains, some grand, some beautiful, bathed in yellow sunshine, or lying black and riven under the frown of impervious cumuli; the pure white peaks, cornices, bosses, and amphitheatres; the blue ice rifts, thestratified snow-precipices, the glaciers issuing from the hollows of the eternal hills, and stretching like frozen serpents through the sinuous valleys; the lower cloud field—itself an empire of vaporous hills—shining with dazzling whiteness, while here and there grim summits, brown by nature, and black by contrast, pierce through it like volcanic islands through a shining sea,—add to this the consciousness of one's position which clings to oneunconsciously, that undercurrent of emotion which surrounds the question of one's personal safety, at a height of more than 14,000 feet above the sea, and which is increased by the weird strange sound of the wind surging with the full deep boom of the distant sea against the precipice behind, or rising to higher cadences as it forces itself through the crannies of the weatherworn rocks,—all conspire to render the scene from the Finsteraarhorn worthy of the monarch of the Bernese Alps.
"HAVE NO FEAR." 1858.
My guide at length warned me that we must be moving; repeating the warning more impressively before I attended to it. We packed up, and as we stood beside each other ready to march he asked me whether we should tie ourselves together, at the same time expressing his belief that it was unnecessary. Up to this time we had been separate, and the thought of attaching ourselves had not occurred to me till he mentioned it. I thought it, however, prudent to accept the suggestion, and so we united our destinies by a strong rope. "Now," said Bennen, "have no fear; no matter how you throw yourself, I will hold you." Afterwards, on another perilous summit, I repeated this saying of Bennen's to a strong and active guide, but his observation was that it was a hardy untruth, for that in many places Bennen could not have held me. Nevertheless a daring word strengthens the heart, and, though I felt no trace of that sentiment which Bennen exhorted me to banish, and was determined, as far as in me lay, to give him no opportunity of tryinghis strength in saving me, I liked the fearless utterance of the man, and sprang cheerily after him.DISCIPLINE. 1858.Our descent was rapid, apparently reckless, amid loose spikes, boulders, and vertical prisms of rock, where a false step would assuredly have been attended with broken bones; but the consciousness of certainty in our movements never forsook us, and proved a source of keen enjoyment. The senses were all awake, the eye clear, the heart strong, the limbs steady, yet flexible, with power of recovery in store, and ready for instant action should the footing give way. Such is the discipline which a perilous ascent imposes.
DESCENT BY GLISSADES. 1858.
We finally quitted the crest of rocks, and got fairly upon the snow once more. We first went downwards at a long swinging trot. The sun having melted the crust which we were compelled to cut through in the morning, the leg at each plunge sank deeply into the snow; but this sinking was partly in the direction of the slope of the mountain, and hence assisted our progress. Sometimes the crust was hard enough to enable us to glide upon it for long distances while standing erect; but the end of theseglissadeswas always a plunge and tumble in the deeper snow. Once upon a steep hard slope Bennen's footing gave way; he fell, and went down rapidly, pulling me after him. I fell also, but turning quickly, drove the spike of my hatchet into the ice, got good anchorage, and held both fast; my success assuring me that I had improved as a mountaineer since my ascent of Mont Blanc. We tumbled so often in the soft snow, and our clothes and boots were so full of it, that we thought we might as well try the sitting posture in gliding down. We did so, and descended with extraordinary velocity, being checked at intervals by a bodily immersion in the softer and deeper snow. I was usually in front of Bennen, shooting down with the speed of an arrow and feeling the check of the rope when the rapidity of my motion exceeded my guide'sestimate of what was safe. Sometimes I was behind him, and darted at intervals with the swiftness of an avalanche right upon him; sometimes in the same transverse line with him, with the full length of the rope between us; and here I found its check unpleasant, as it tended to make me roll over. My feet were usually in the air, and it was only necessary to turn them right or left, like the helm of a boat, to change the direction of motion and avoid a difficulty, while a vigorous dig of leg and hatchet into the snow was sufficient to check the motion and bring us to rest. Swiftly, yet cautiously, we glided into the region of crevasses, where we at last rose, quite wet, and resumed our walking, until we reached the point where we had left our wine in the morning, and where I squeezed the water from my wet clothes, and partially dried them in the sun.
THE VIESCH GLACIER. 1858.
We had left some things at the cave of the Faulberg, and it was Bennen's first intention to return that way and take them home with him. Finding, however, that we could traverse the Viescher glacier almost to the Æggischhorn, I made this our highway homewards. At the place where we entered it, and for an hour or two afterwards, the glacier was cut by fissures, for the most part covered with snow. We had packed up our rope, and Bennen admonished me to tread in his steps. Three or four times he half disappeared in the concealed fissures, but by clutching the snow he rescued himself and went on as swiftly as before. Once my leg sank, and the ring of icicles some fifty feet below told me that I was in the jaws of a crevasse; my guide turned sharply—it was the only time that I had seen concern on his countenance:—
"Gott's Donner! Sie haben meine Tritte nicht gefolgt."
"Doch!" was my only reply, and we went on. He scarcely tried the snow that he crossed, as from its form and colour he could in most cases judge of its condition. For a long time we kept at the left-hand side of theglacier, avoiding the fissures which were now permanently open. We came upon the tracks of a herd of chamois, which had clambered from the glacier up the sides of the Oberaarhorn, and afterwards crossed the glacier to the right-hand side, my guide being perfect master of the ground. His eyes went in advance of his steps, and his judgment was formed before his legs moved. The glacier was deeply fissured, but there was no swerving, no retreating, no turning back to seek more practicable routes; each stride told, and every stroke of the axe was a profitable investment of labour.
We left the glacier for a time, and proceeded along the mountain side, till we came near the end of the Trift glacier, where we let ourselves down an awkward face of rock along the track of a little cascade, and came upon the glacier once more. Here again I had occasion to admire the knowledge and promptness of my guide. The glacier, as is well known, is greatly dislocated, and has once or twice proved a prison to guides and travellers, but Bennen led me through the confusion without a pause. We were sometimes in the middle of the glacier, sometimes on the moraine, and sometimes on the side of the flanking mountain. Towards the end of the day we crossed what seemed to be the consolidated remains of a great avalanche; on this my foot slipped, there was a crevasse at hand, and a sudden effort was necessary to save me from falling into it. In making this effort the spike of my axe turned uppermost, and the palm of my hand came down upon it, thus receiving a very ugly wound. We were soon upon the green alp, having bidden a last farewell to the ice. Another hour's hard walking brought us to our hotel. No one seeing us crossing the alp would have supposed that we had laid such a day's work behind us; the proximity of home gave vigour to our strides, and our progress was much more speedy than it had been on starting inthe morning. I was affectionately welcomed by Ramsay, had a warm bath, dined, went to bed, where I lay fast locked in sleep for eight hours, and rose next morning as fresh and vigorous as if I had never scaled the Finsteraarhorn.
FOOTNOTES:[A]The following note describes the single observation made with this thermometer. Mr. B. informs me that on finding the instrument Bennen swung it in triumph round his head. I fear, therefore, that the observation gives us no certain information regarding the minimum winter-temperature."St. Nicholas, 1859, Aug. 25."Sir,—On Tuesday last (the 23rd inst.) a party, consisting of Messrs. B., H., R. L., and myself, succeeded in reaching the summit of the Finsteraarhorn under the guidance of Bennen and Melchior Anderegg. We made it an especial object to observe and reset the minimum-thermometer which you left there last year. On reaching the summit, before I had time to stop him, Bennen produced the instrument, and it is just possible that in moving it he may have altered the position of the index. However, as he held the instrument horizontally, and did not, as far as I saw, give it any sensible jerk, I have great confidence that the index remained unmoved."The reading of the index was -32° Cent."A portion of the spirit extending over about 101/2° (and standing tween 33° and 431/2°) was separated from the rest, but there appeared to be no data for determining when the separation had taken place. As it appeared desirable to unite the two portions of spirit before again setting the index to record the cold of another winter, we endeavoured to effect this by heating the bulb, but unfortunately, just as we were expecting to see them coalesce, the bulb burst, and I have now to express my great regret that my clumsiness or ignorance of the proper mode of setting the instrument in order should have interfered with the continuance of observations of so much interest. The remains of the instrument, together with a note of the accident, I have left in the charge of Wellig, the landlord of the hotel on the Æggischhorn."We reached the summit about 10.40a.m.and remained there till noon; the reading of a pocket thermometer in the shade was 41° F."Should there be any further details connected with our ascent on which you would like to have information, I shall be happy to supply them to the best of my recollection. Meanwhile, with a farther apology for my clumsiness, I beg to subscribe myself yours respectfully,"H.""Professor Tyndall."
[A]The following note describes the single observation made with this thermometer. Mr. B. informs me that on finding the instrument Bennen swung it in triumph round his head. I fear, therefore, that the observation gives us no certain information regarding the minimum winter-temperature."St. Nicholas, 1859, Aug. 25."Sir,—On Tuesday last (the 23rd inst.) a party, consisting of Messrs. B., H., R. L., and myself, succeeded in reaching the summit of the Finsteraarhorn under the guidance of Bennen and Melchior Anderegg. We made it an especial object to observe and reset the minimum-thermometer which you left there last year. On reaching the summit, before I had time to stop him, Bennen produced the instrument, and it is just possible that in moving it he may have altered the position of the index. However, as he held the instrument horizontally, and did not, as far as I saw, give it any sensible jerk, I have great confidence that the index remained unmoved."The reading of the index was -32° Cent."A portion of the spirit extending over about 101/2° (and standing tween 33° and 431/2°) was separated from the rest, but there appeared to be no data for determining when the separation had taken place. As it appeared desirable to unite the two portions of spirit before again setting the index to record the cold of another winter, we endeavoured to effect this by heating the bulb, but unfortunately, just as we were expecting to see them coalesce, the bulb burst, and I have now to express my great regret that my clumsiness or ignorance of the proper mode of setting the instrument in order should have interfered with the continuance of observations of so much interest. The remains of the instrument, together with a note of the accident, I have left in the charge of Wellig, the landlord of the hotel on the Æggischhorn."We reached the summit about 10.40a.m.and remained there till noon; the reading of a pocket thermometer in the shade was 41° F."Should there be any further details connected with our ascent on which you would like to have information, I shall be happy to supply them to the best of my recollection. Meanwhile, with a farther apology for my clumsiness, I beg to subscribe myself yours respectfully,"H.""Professor Tyndall."
[A]The following note describes the single observation made with this thermometer. Mr. B. informs me that on finding the instrument Bennen swung it in triumph round his head. I fear, therefore, that the observation gives us no certain information regarding the minimum winter-temperature.
"St. Nicholas, 1859, Aug. 25.
"Sir,—On Tuesday last (the 23rd inst.) a party, consisting of Messrs. B., H., R. L., and myself, succeeded in reaching the summit of the Finsteraarhorn under the guidance of Bennen and Melchior Anderegg. We made it an especial object to observe and reset the minimum-thermometer which you left there last year. On reaching the summit, before I had time to stop him, Bennen produced the instrument, and it is just possible that in moving it he may have altered the position of the index. However, as he held the instrument horizontally, and did not, as far as I saw, give it any sensible jerk, I have great confidence that the index remained unmoved.
"The reading of the index was -32° Cent.
"A portion of the spirit extending over about 101/2° (and standing tween 33° and 431/2°) was separated from the rest, but there appeared to be no data for determining when the separation had taken place. As it appeared desirable to unite the two portions of spirit before again setting the index to record the cold of another winter, we endeavoured to effect this by heating the bulb, but unfortunately, just as we were expecting to see them coalesce, the bulb burst, and I have now to express my great regret that my clumsiness or ignorance of the proper mode of setting the instrument in order should have interfered with the continuance of observations of so much interest. The remains of the instrument, together with a note of the accident, I have left in the charge of Wellig, the landlord of the hotel on the Æggischhorn.
"We reached the summit about 10.40a.m.and remained there till noon; the reading of a pocket thermometer in the shade was 41° F.
"Should there be any further details connected with our ascent on which you would like to have information, I shall be happy to supply them to the best of my recollection. Meanwhile, with a farther apology for my clumsiness, I beg to subscribe myself yours respectfully,
"H."
"Professor Tyndall."
A ROTATING ICEBERG. 1858.
On the 6th of August there was a long fight between mist and sunshine, each triumphing by turns, till at length the orb gained the victory and cleansed the mountains from every trace of fog. We descended to the Märjelen See, and, wishing to try the floating power of its icebergs, at a place where masses sufficiently large approached near to the shore, I put aside a portion of my clothes, and retaining my boots stepped upon the floating ice. It bore me for a time, and I hoped eventually to be able to paddle myself over the water. On swerving a little, however, from the position in which I first stood, the mass turned over and let me into the lake. I tried a second one, which served me in the same manner; the water was too cold to continue the attempt, and there was also some risk of being unpleasantly ground between the opposing surfaces of the masses of ice. A very large iceberg which had been detached some short time previously from the glacier lay floating at some distance from us. Suddenly a sound like that of a waterfall drew our attention towards it. We saw it roll over with the utmost deliberation, while the water which it carried along with it rushed in cataracts down its sides. Its previous surface was white, its present one was of a lovely blue, the submerged crystal having now come to the air. The summerset of this iceberg produced a commotion all over the lake; the floating masses at its edge clashed together,and a mellow glucking sound, due to the lapping of the undulations against the frozen masses, continued long afterwards.
We subsequently spent several hours upon the glacier; and on this day I noticed for the first time a contemporaneous exhibition ofbeddingandstructureto which I shall refer at another place. We passed finally to the left bank of the glacier, at some distance below the base of the Æggischhorn, and traced its old moraines at intervals along the flanks of the bounding mountain. At the summit of the ridge we found several fine oldroches moutonnées, on some of which the scratchings of a glacier long departed were well preserved; and from the direction of the scratchings it might be inferred that the ice moved down the mountain towards the valley of the Rhone. A plunge into a lonely mountain lake ended the day's excursion.
END OF THE ALETSCH GLACIER. 1858.
On the 7th of August we quitted this noble station. Sending our guide on to Viesch to take a conveyance and proceed with our luggage down the valley, Ramsay and myself crossed the mountains obliquely, desiring to trace the glacier to its termination. We had no path, but it was hardly possible to go astray. We crossed spurs, climbed and descended pleasant mounds, sometimes with the soft grass under our feet, and sometimes knee-deep in rhododendrons. It took us several hours to reach the end of the glacier, and we then looked down upon it merely. It lay couched like a reptile in a wild gorge, as if it had split the mountain by its frozen snout. We afterwards descended to Mörill, where we met our guide and driver; thence down the valley to Visp; and the following evening saw us lodged at the Monte Rosa hotel in Zermatt.
The boiling point of water on the table of thesalle à manger, I found to be 202.58° Fahr.
MEADOWS INVADED BY ICE. 1858.
On the following morning I proceeded without my friend to the Görner glacier. As is well known, the end of thisglacier has been steadily advancing for several years, and when I saw it, the meadow in front of it was partly shrivelled up by its irresistible advance. I was informed by my host that within the last sixty years forty-four chalets had been overturned by the glacier, the ground on which they stood being occupied by the ice; at present there are others for which a similar fate seems imminent. In thus advancing the glacier merely takes up ground which belonged to it in former ages, for the rounded rocks which rise out of the adjacent meadow show that it once passed over them.
I had arranged to meet Ramsay this morning on the road to the Riffelberg. The meeting took place, but I then learned that a minute or two after my departure he had received intelligence of the death of a near relative. Thus was our joint expedition terminated, for he resolved to return at once to England. At my solicitation he accompanied me to the Riffel hotel. We had planned an ascent of Monte Rosa together, but the arrangement thus broke down, and I was consequently thrown upon my own resources. Lauener had never made the ascent, but he nevertheless felt confident that we should accomplish it together.
THE RIFFELBERG. 1858.
On Monday, the 9th of August, we reached the Riffel, and, by good fortune, on the evening of the same day, my guide's brother, the well-known Ulrich Lauener, also arrived at the hotel on his return from Monte Rosa. From him we obtained all the information possible respecting the ascent, and he kindly agreed to accompany us a little way the next morning, to put us on the right track. At threea.m.the door of my bedroom opened, and Christian Lauener announced to me that the weather was sufficiently good to justify an attempt. The stars were shining overhead; but Ulrich afterwards drew our attention to some heavy clouds which clung to the mountains on the other side of the valley of the Visp; remarking that the weathermightcontinue fair throughout the day, but that these clouds were ominous. At four o'clock we were on our way, by which time a gray stratus cloud had drawn itself across the neck of the Matterhorn, and soon afterwards another of the same nature encircled his waist. We proceeded past the Riffelhorn to the ridge above the Görner glacier, from which Monte Rosa was visible from top to bottom, and where an animated conversation in Swiss patois commenced. Ulrich described the slopes, passes, and precipices, which were to guide us; and Christian demanded explanations, until he was finally able to declare to me that his knowledge was sufficient. We then bade Ulrich good-bye, and went forward. All was clear about Monte Rosa, and the yellow morning light shone brightly upon its uppermost snows. Beside the Queen of the Alps was the huge mass of the Lyskamm, with a saddle stretching from the one to the other; next to the Lyskammcame two white rounded mounds, smooth and pure, the Twins Castor and Pollux, and further to the right again the broad brown flank of the Breithorn. Behind us Mont Cervin gathered the clouds more thickly round him, until finally his grand obelisk was totally hidden. We went along the mountain-side for a time, and then descended to the glacier.SOUNDS ON THE GLACIER. 1858.The surface was hard frozen, and the ice crunched loudly under our feet. There was a hollowness and volume in the sound which require explanation; and this, I think, is furnished by the remarks of Sir John Herschel on those hollow sounds at the Solfaterra, near Naples, from which travellers have inferred the existence of cavities within the mountain. At the place where these sounds are heard the earth is friable, and, when struck, the concussion is reinforced and lengthened by the partial echoes from the surfaces of the fragments. The conditions for a similar effect exist upon the glacier, for the ice is disintegrated to a certain depth, and from the innumerable places of rupture little reverberations are sent, which give a length and hollowness to the sound produced by the crushing of the fragments on the surface.
We looked to the sky at intervals, and once a meteor slid across it, leaving a train of sparks behind. The blue firmament, from which the stars shone down so brightly when we rose, was more and more invaded by clouds, which advanced upon us from our rear, while before us the solemn heights of Monte Rosa were bathed in rich yellow sunlight. As the day advanced the radiance crept down towards the valleys; but still those stealthy clouds advanced like a besieging army, taking deliberate possession of the summits, one after the other, while gray skirmishers moved through the air above us. The play of light and shadow upon Monte Rosa was at times beautiful, bars of gloom and zones of glory shifting and alternating from top to bottom of the mountain.