CHAPTER XITHE TWINS
Whenmountains reach an altitude of over 13,000 feet, one does not usually call them little. But the Twins, Castor and Pollux, are so overshadowed by their massive neighbours, the Lyskamm and the Breithorn, that one quite naturally refers to them in terms of the diminutive. Dwarfed though they be by their mighty surroundings, they are, nevertheless, every inch great mountains.
On August 15, 1909, H. A. Mantel, a fellow member of the Academic Alpine Club of Zürich, and I were sunning ourselves on the rocks in front of the Bétemps hut. Mantel, who had heard much of the joys of ice-climbing during the last two weeks we had climbed together, was filled with a keen desire to see for himself if it were really as superior to rock work as I had made it out to be.
The north face of the Lyskamm was ruled out as being too big an effort for the initiation of even such a willing proselyte as my companion. Within easy reach of the Bétemps hut, however, is Castor, the higher of the two twins and one of the most striking forms of Alpine beauty. Seen from the north, it is a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and ice, almost wholly unflecked by rock. The north face of this mountain had never, as far as I knew, been ascended. Beyond the fact that Miss K. Richardson with Émile Rey and Bich had descended its upper third or half in 1890, I had not been able to trace the records of anyother explorers having visited Castor on this side. Long before the chill of sunset drove us inside the hut, we had decided upon this climb for the morrow.
Soon after midnight, snow ploughing parties for Monte Rosa began their usual noisy preparations. We wallowed on in the luxury of superfluous blankets and straw until 2 a.m., by which time the last party had left the hut. At four o’clock, our fragile, early morning tempers were being severely tried by the moraine leading down to the Grenz Glacier. Once on the glacier, however, the stability of things under foot reasserted itself, and a brisk, pleasant walk brought us to the foot of the formidable icefall which separates the Grenz and Zwillings Glaciers. We attacked the icefall in about the centre of its front and working steadily upwards and to the right, in a westerly direction, fought step by step for a way through the intricate mass of crevasses and séracs which sought to impede our progress. Frequently we were unable to find snow bridges and had to cross crevasses by descending into them and then cutting up the other side. At the top of the icefall we were pulled up short by a final crevasse which appeared to stretch without a break from one side of the glacier to the other. A little searching, however, revealed the presence of an extremely unpleasant-looking bridge which seemed far too heavy for the slender supports by which it was attached to the two sides of the crevasse. The sun, however, had just risen, and everything was still well-frozen; so with due precautions the rickety structure was called upon to lend us all the assistance in its power. Beyond shedding a few icicles, which went clinking down into the soul-shattering depths below, the bridge stood up nobly. We now struck out in the direction of the Zwillingsjoch, as the gap between Castor and Pollux is called. Gentle, undulating snow slopes, broken here and there by enormous, but mostly well-bridged, crevasses, provided easy going. Some of the crevasses in this part of the glacier were so wide that we had to rope together at a distance of rather over eighty feet in order to avoid the possibility of both standing on the same bridge at the same time. A second icefall, tame in comparison with the first, was passed through without difficulty, and at 7.45 a.m. we stood at the foot of the north face of our mountain, at a point due north of the summit.
A crevasse on the Zwillings Glacier.
Castor.
“... a wonderfully proportioned dome of pure snow and ice” ....
Facing page 154.
A halt was called for breakfast, and, after a welcome cigarette, we put on our climbing irons. The bergschrund, which gaped widely open to right and left of where we stood, was completely filled with snow and ice—débris from the avalanches which pour off the north face through a funnel whose opening meets the bergschrund just here. To cross the schrund we had to cut steps, as the snow was too closely packed and hard-frozen to admit of kicking. After cutting some sixty steps, however, we were able to dispense with the use of the axe and kicked our way rapidly upwards over steep slopes of frozen snow in the direction of the north-east ridge of the mountain. This earlier part of the ascent, for a distance of about a thousand feet from the bergschrund, was accomplished in a remarkably short space of time, as we were exposed to avalanches from a tier of ice cliffs that enfiladed the funnel up which we were advancing. During the latter portion of the ascent of these slopes, we gradually worked over to the east in order to find a way round the extreme eastern edge of the ice cliffs. A flaw in the cliffs, however, absolved us of the necessity of traversing very far to the left, and we were soon able to strike straight up towards the diminutive bergschrund which cuts into the north-east ridgeof Castor at a height of about 12,800 feet. Before reaching this bergschrund, the general slope eased off considerably, and the snow became powdery and deep. Once upon the gentler snow slopes, the direction again changed, and we struck out towards Pollux, ploughing a way slowly through the tiresome snow. In this fashion we arrived at the bergschrund at a point directly below the north summit of Castor, and paused for a few minutes’ rest before assaulting the final steep slopes. So far, Mantel had not been unduly impressed with the supposed difficulties of ice-climbing, but the very last slope was steep, and I felt sure that we would meet with ice which would impede our progress sufficiently to make him alter his opinion. But, once again, the bergschrund was easily overcome, and, to my disappointment, we were able to kick our way up beyond it without cutting a single step. The snow was perfect. Not until we were within a rope’s length of the north summit did we meet with ice. The slope here was considerable; but after a quarter of an hour’s hard step-cutting even this final part of the ascent was accomplished. At 11 a.m. we stood on the north summit and a few minutes later had crossed the easy snow ridge leading to the highest point (13,878ft.), where we arrived in a little over seven hours after leaving the Bétemps hut. The conditions had been exceptionally favourable, save in so far as the first icefall on the Zwillings Glacier was concerned. I have only heard of one other ascent of Castor by this route, and that by a strong guided party who were in all, from hut to summit, eleven hours, some eight hours of which was occupied in step-cutting. This fact shows plainly enough that, with unfavourable conditions, the climb can be quite a severe and laborious one.
The day was fine and all but windless. We were in nohurry to get back to the hut; so, seeking a comfortable perch on the rocks overlooking the Italian side of the mountain, we indulged in a protracted summit rest of over two hours.
The descent over the Felikhorn to the Felik Pass was without incident. Shortly after leaving the pass, the snow became wet and soft, and being only two, we had to exert great care in picking our way round the innumerable gigantic crevasses which intersect the upper slopes of the glacier. With the exception of some on Mont Blanc, I do not think I have ever seen such huge crevasses as those met with during this descent. At 4 p.m. we had safely regained our morning track, just where it emerged from the tangle of the lower icefall of the Zwillings Glacier. The passage of the delicate bridge, which appeared to provide the only means of crossing the first big crevasse, was attended with a certain amount of anxiety; but by crawling on all fours so as to distribute one’s weight as equally as possible, and otherwise showing due respect to our decaying friend bridging the gaping depths beneath, the passage was successfully accomplished. The rest of the work, which consisted in further following our morning tracks through the maze of séracs and crevasses leading down to the Grenz Glacier, offered no serious difficulty. At 5.30 p.m. we were once more back in the Bétemps hut.
Liniger, one of the ablest of the younger members of theA.A.C.Z., and I went up to the Bétemps hut on August 17, 1919, with the intention of climbing the north ridge of Pollux. Heavy snow had fallen, and the possibility of carrying out a big climb was out of the question. Not seeing, however, why this should materially affect our prospects of being able to get in somewhere or other a good day’s ice work, we hadconsulted Dübi’s guide book to the Pennine Alps, to find therein no recorded ascent of Pollux by the north ridge.
Since traversing Monte Rosa in 1911, this was my first visit to the Bétemps hut. The hut had been slightly enlarged, but otherwise I found everything much the same. It seemed almost incredible that eight years had elapsed since I had last watched the setting sun tinge with red the summits of that glorious line of peaks which runs from the Matterhorn to the Weisshorn. Numerous other parties arrived at the hut towards the end of the day, and, in order not to impede their preparations for a meal, we turned in to sleep at a fairly early hour.
At 2 a.m. on August 18, 1919, we were up just in time to see the tail-end of numerous Monte Rosa parties disappear. They took with them their unsated curiosity as to our intentions, for, having our doubts as to the possibility of winning through on our climb, we had refrained from giving them any inkling of our intentions. Shortly after 3 a.m. we were ready to move off and descended over the moraine on to the Gorner Glacier, across which we struck in a due westerly direction. Several times we trod through into concealed pools of icy water and got our feet thoroughly soaked. It was still dark when we arrived at the steep moraine which marks the beginning of the north ridge of Pollux; and in the fitful light of the lantern, the ascent of this moraine, composed of mud and loose stones poised at an almost impossible angle, was little short of misery. At last, however, its summit was attained, and progress became better. Later on, where the moraine fizzled out into snow slopes, the light of day enabled us to dispense with the lantern, and we put on the rope. Proceeding up these snow slopes, dodging an occasional crevasse, we kept steadily on in the direction ofthe depression which lies a few yards due north of the first of the three prominent humps on the north ridge. We stood in this depression at 5 a.m. and immediately began the attack on the steep ice bulge which defends the approach to the next hump.
At first we mounted rapidly over fairly steep slopes covered with excellent snow. These, however, gave out as the slope increased, and we were reduced to cutting in bare ice. This proved to be of an extraordinarily tough consistency. It was dark grey, at times almost black in colour, and frequently the only result that a blow from the axe accomplished was to make a small hole, from which the pick tenaciously refused to be removed except at the cost of much twisting and pulling. In all, we had to cut about one hundred and sixty steps; but, for the reasons I have mentioned, progress was inordinately slow. Towards the top of the slope, we were able to save much work by making use of the irregularities in the sides of a crevasse which cut vertically into the ice. Once above the steeper portions of the slope, good snow led up to the summit of the middle hump (nearly 12,000ft.) which we reached at 7.15 a.m.
The third hump is about six hundred feet higher up, and the ridge connecting it with the point on which we now stood was in part heavily corniced. We therefore kept fairly well to the west of the ridge, but had to pay dearly for doing so; there was a great accumulation of new snow, and the work of stamping was heavy.
By 8.30 a.m. we had passed round and slightly below the third hump, and gained the foot of the final slopes into which the north ridge of Pollux broadens out ere it reaches the summit. The next obstacle in our way was an extremely unpleasant-looking bergschrund surmounted by an enormouslysteep ice wall some seventy to eighty feet in height. At a first glance, it appeared doubtful as to whether this obstacle could be overcome, so we wisely decided to call a brief halt in order to recruit our strength.
At 8.45 a.m., leaving my knapsack with Liniger and taking in exchange his axe, I started out to see what could be done with our formidable antagonist. By standing on the lower lip of the bergschrund and pushing both axes up to the hilt into the good snow on the other side, I was able to haul myself across and kick a somewhat precarious foothold. Still making use of Liniger’s axe as a handhold and cutting steps with my own, I succeeded in securing a better purchase on the steep slope leading upwards from the upper lip. The angle of this slope was certainly over sixty degrees; yet, in spite of this, it was hung with vast quantities of dry, powdery snow. To obtain a foothold without first sweeping this away and then cutting steps in the ice below, was impossible. To the right, a few yards higher up, a flake of ice had become partially detached from the wall, and, after gaining this, I was able to find sufficiently good standing ground for Liniger to follow. The next hundred feet consisted of perfectly straightforward cutting, though the ice was still very steep and covered with masses of soft, new snow that had to be swept down prior to the hewing out of each step. The cold was considerable, and Liniger began to complain of losing sensation in his feet. For my part, I did not suffer from cold, as I was wearing Norwegian ski-ing boots, inside of which were three pairs of thick woollen socks. Frost-bite would have been a most serious matter at this point of the climb, so we made every effort to gain the gentler slopes at the foot of the final wall below the summit. At 10 a.m. we reached these slopes which stretch in the form of a terrace almost across the whole of the north face ofPollux. Firmly digging in the axes and belaying our ropes round them, we sat down and, after removing Liniger’s boots, proceeded to inspect the damage, if any. To our relief, animation was restored by vigorous and prolonged rubbing, and we replaced his sodden socks with a dry pair which he was fortunate enough to have in his knapsack.
The weather, which up till now had been clear, began to assume a doubtful aspect. A westerly wind was sweeping masses of cloud towards us from the Breithorn, and occasionally we were enveloped in mist. As neither of us knew anything whatever about the descent of Pollux, it was clear that we had no more time to lose. Liniger took the lead and, dashing furiously ahead, kicked his way up the final slopes, until bare ice breaking through the snow rendered this method of progress no longer possible. Once more the interminable step-cutting became necessary. A small bergschrund was passed almost without its presence being noticed. The final slope is steep and consists of pure ice, but we found it covered by the same incohesive masses of new snow which had so impeded our progress lower down. Liniger worked valiantly, and, in spite of the circumstances, we made comparatively rapid progress. Long before reaching the summit, we were shrouded in driving, clammy mist, and the cold became bitter. It was not until 12.30 p.m. that we eventually reached the top (13,432ft.). We had been almost nine and a half hours on the way, of which time little more than half an hour had been spent in resting. But we were by no means out of our troubles. Having got up, it now remained to be seen how we were to get down. Neither of us had any desire to return by the way we had come, for the idea of a descent of the last formidable bergschrund in doubtful weather was not exactly to our liking. We knew that a comparativelyeasy line of descent lay down a ridge somewhere to the south-west of the summit; but the difficulty was how to find the beginning of this ridge in the intense mists. However, it was no good remaining on the summit itself and waiting for the mists to clear; there seemed no prospect of that happening within a reasonable time. Taking a compass bearing, therefore, I set off in a south-westerly direction, with Liniger bringing up the rear. It was impossible to survey the slopes for more than a yard or two ahead, and, after having descended some distance in this manner, we gave up the search for the south-west ridge and, turning due west, gained some rocks which, as it transpired later, lie on the west face of the mountain. Their appearance was far from prepossessing. They were extremely steep and slabby, but on the principle of a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush, we decided to venture down. The rocks did not belie their appearance. They proved to be difficult and were thoroughly plastered up with ice and snow. On several occasions we resorted to the use of the doubled rope. A steep, slabby gully ending in an overhang brought us to the top of a tremendously steep ice slope, the first sixty feet of which we descended by means of the doubled rope. Thence, after cutting steps towards a rib of rocks, we descended this, and, plunging down final slopes of soft snow, crossed the bergschrund on to the glacier at a point immediately south of the Schwarztor.
The mists now cleared and revealed to us the west wall of Pollux, down which we had just found a way. It would be difficult to imagine a more unprepossessing line of descent, especially when one considers how much ice and snow lay about on the rocks. However, we had nothing to grumble about now, as our difficulties were over in so far as getting off the actual peak was concerned; and, in addition, we had,thanks to the mist, even descended by a new route! That trouble was still in store for us we were aware, because we had noticed that the huge icefall in the Schwärze Glacier was in bad condition. Knowing that we might experience considerable delay in passing through this icefall, and not wishing to run the risk of a bivouac, we lost no time in traversing round to the Schwarztor and crossed over the pass at 3 p.m. The weather showed distinct signs of improvement, and occasionally we obtained fitful glimpses of the sun through breaks in the mist. Such breaks were welcome, for it was sometimes difficult to detect the presence of crevasses when the sun was obscured. As elsewhere, the glacier was laden with fresh snow, and frequently we sank in knee-deep. On leaving the Schwarztor, we descended the glacier practically in the direction of the Gornergrat and met with no serious opposition until arriving at the upper edge of the great icefall. An attempt to break through on the right failed ignobly, and we were reduced to retracing our steps for some considerable distance. Another attempt was then made, this time through the centre of the icefall; but, although we managed to make some headway, a huge wall, from which it would have been impossible to rope down without sacrificing an axe, again blocked all possibility of further descent. Once more we were forced to retrace our steps. Our third attempt proved lucky; we found a way out by crossing a most unpleasant crevasse and traversing along its lower edge. Finally, crossing some broken slopes and running the gauntlet of possible fire from several séracs of doubtful stability, we reached the open glacier. Passing over this and the moraine on the far side, we soon gained our tracks of the morning and, at 6.30 p.m., were once more back at the Bétemps hut.