exposition was limited to enlarging on the facts that the warriors of my native country were exceeding valiant folk with very fine chests, that they wore highly padded red coats and little hats like half bonbon boxes cocked on one side and that they would never consent to be slaves. Burgener, anxious for some more stirring expedition, suggested that we should climb the Dom from the Saas side or make a first ascent of the Südlenzspitz. We had often talked of the former expedition, which had not at the time been achieved, and, in order to facilitate its accomplishment, divers small grants of money had been sent out from England to be expended in the construction of a hut some five hours’ walk above Fée. In answer to enquiries, the guides reported with no small amount of pride, that the building had been satisfactorily completed and they were of opinion that it was ready for occupation. At some length the process of building was described and it really seemed from their account that they had caused to be erected a shelter of unduly pretentious dimensions. It appeared, however, that the residence was equally well placed to serve as a shelter for an ascent of the Südlenzspitz and we decided ultimately to attack that peak first. Great preparations were made; an extensive assortment of very inferior blankets was produced and spread out in the road in front of the hotel, either for airing or some other ill-defined purpose, possibly from some natural pride in the extensive resources of the hotel. Then they pulled down and piled into a little stack, opposite the front door, fire wood enough to roast an ox, or convert an enthusiast into a saint.
How ruin seized a roofless thing
One fine afternoon we started. The entire staff and personnel of the hotel would have turned out to wish us good luck, but did not actually do so, as he was engaged in a back shed milking a cow. Laden with a large bundle of fire wood, I toiled up the steep grass slopes above Fée, leading to the Hochbalm glacier. The day was oppressively hot, and I was not wholly ungrateful on finding that the string round my bundle was loose and that the sticks dropped out one after another: accordingly I selected a place in the extreme rear of the caravan, lest my delinquencies should perchance be observed. The sun beat mercilessly down upon our backs on these bare slopes and we sighed involuntarily for Vallombrosa or Monaco or some equally shady place. The guides, who up to that time had spoken of their building as if it were of somewhat palatial dimensions, now began rather to disparage the construction. Doubts were expressed as to the effects certain storms and heavy falls of snow might have had on it and regrets that the weather had prevented the builders from attending as minutely to details of finish and decoration as they could have wished. Putting this and that together, I came to the conclusion that the erection would probably be found to display but indifferent architectural merit. However, there was nothing better to look forward to. “Where is it?” “Oh, right up there, under the big cliff, close to where Alexander is.” In the dim distance could be distinguished the form of our guide as a little dark mass progressing on two pink flesh-coloured streaks, striding rapidly up the hill. The phenomenon of colour was due to the fact that, prompted by the sultriness of the day, Alexander had adopted in his garb a temporary variation of the Highland costume. A few minutes later he joined us, clothed indeed, and in a right, but still a melancholy frame of mind. Shaking his head sadly, he explained that a grievous disaster had taken place, evidently in the spring. The forebodings of the constructively-minded rustics we had left below, who knew about as much of architecture as they did of metaphysics, proved now to be true. They had remarked that they feared lest some chance stone should have fallen, and possibly have inflicted damage on the hut. Why they had selected a site where such an accident might happen, was not at the moment quite obvious, but it became so later on. Burgener told us that the roof had been carried away. Beyond question the roof was gone; at any rate it was not there, and the rock must have fallen in a remarkable way indeed, for the cliff above was slightly overhanging, and the falling boulder, which was held accountable for the disaster, had carried away every vestige of wood-work about the place, not leaving even a splinter or a chip. However, to the credit of the builders, be it said that they had tidied up and swept very nicely, for there was no sawdust to be seen anywhere, nor indeed, any trace of carpentering work. The hut consequently resolved itself into a semi-circular stone wall, very much out of the perpendicular, built against a rock face. The chief architect, evidently a thoughtful person, had not omitted to leave a door. But it was easier on the whole to step over the wall, which I did, with as much scorn as Remus himself could have thrown into the action when seeking to aggravate his brother Romulus. So we entered into possession of the premises without, at any rate, the trouble of any preliminary legal formalities.
On sleeping out
In the matter of sleeping out, all mountaineers pass, provided they keep long enough at it, through three stages. In the early period, when imbued with what has been poetically termed the “ecstatic alacrity” of youth, they burn with a desire to undergo hardship on mountains. Possibly a craving for sympathy in discomfort – that most universal of human attributes – prompts them to spend their nights in the most unsuitable places for repose. The practical carrying out of this tendency is apt to freeze very literally their ardour; at least, it did so in our case. Then follows a period during which the climber laughs to scorn any idea of dividing his mountain expedition. He starts the moment after midnight and plods along with a gait as free and elastic as that of a stage pilgrim or a competitor in a six days’ “go-as-you-please” pedestrian contest: for those who have a certain gift of somnambulism this method has its advantages. Finally comes a stage when the climber’s one thought is to get all the enjoyment possible out of his expedition and to get it in the way that seems best at the time. Now again he may be found at times tenanting huts, or the forms of shelter which are supposed to represent them. But his manner is changed; he no longer travels burdened with the impedimenta of his earlier days. He never looks at his watch now, except to ascertain the utmost limit of time he can dwell on a view. With advancing years and increasing Alpine wisdom, he derides the idea of accurately timing an expedition. His pedometer is probably left at home; he eats whenever he is hungry, and ceases to consider it a sine quâ non that he must return to hotel quarters in time for dinner. Nor does he ever commit the youthful folly of walking at the rate of five miles an hour along the mule path in the valley or the high road at the end of an expedition, gaining thereby sore feet and absolutely nothing else. When he has reached this stage, however, he is considered passé; and when he has reached this stage he probably begins really to appreciate to the full the depth of the charm to be found in mountaineering.
But I digress even as the driven pig. A miserable night did we spend behind the stone wall. About 9 P.M. came a furious hail-storm: at 10 P.M. rain fell heavily: at 11 P.M. snow began and went on till daybreak about 4 A.M. At 5 A.M. we got up quite stiff and stark like a recently killed villain of melodrama, when carried off the stage by four supers. By 6 A.M. I had got into my boots. At 9 A.M. we swooped down once more on Franz at the hotel at Saas, persuaded him to relinquish certain scavenging occupations in which he was engaged, and to resume his post of waiter. A day or two later we sought our shelter once more. No luxurious provisions did we take with us. Some remarkable red wine, so sour that it forced one involuntarily to turn the head round over the shoulder on drinking it, filled one knapsack. The other contained slices of bread with parallel strata of a greasy nature intervening. These were spoken of, when we had occasion to allude to them, as sandwiches. The fat was found to be an excellent emollient to my boots.
The Südlenzspitz
The Südlenzspitz, though tall, labours under the topographical disadvantage of being placed in the company of giants. Close by, on the north side, is the Nadelhorn (14,876 ft.), while to the south, at no great distance, the Dom towers far above, reaching a height of 14,942 feet. In the Federal map of Switzerland (which is not very accurate in its delineation of the Saas district), the height of the Südlenzspitz is marked as 14,108 ft. North and south from the Südlenzspitz, stretch away well-marked, but not particularly sharp ridges, the northern being chiefly of snow, and inclined at a moderate angle. To the east, a sharper rocky ridge falls away, terminating below, after the fashion of a “rational” divided skirt, in two undecided continuations which enclosed the Fall glacier. Climbing up by this ridge, Mr. W. W. Graham ascended the mountain in 1882. The “variation” is described as presenting very serious difficulties. But in our day, the old-fashioned custom of ascending mountains by the most obviously practicable
