Plateau
Other attempts followed till, in 1786, the highest point was gained by Jacques Balmat and Michel Paccard, who took De Saussure to the top in the following year. The dread of mountains and of the regions of perpetual snow, if not thus destroyed, began at all events to be undermined. During the next half century it was gradually removed. The Jungfrau was CLIMBING A CRACK, AIGUILLES ROUGES, AROLLA. climbed in 1811, the Finnsteraarhorn in 1812; other peaks followed. Thus far, however, such climbs were sporadically undertaken. The climbing craft could not be properly invented till a set of men arose, who returned to the mountains year after year and gained, by repeated expeditions above the snow-line, experience of the conditions that obtained there and of their effects upon man. It was not till about the year 1850 that any such body began to form.
Between 1850 and 1860 several men took [MOUNTAINEERING to mountaineering as a sport. Mr. Justice Wills's ascent of the Wetterhorn in 1854 is usually regarded as the first important was sporting" climb. The highest point of Monte Rosa was reached in 1855, and Mont Blanc was climbed by a new route and without guides by a party of Englishmen in 1856. The Alpine Club founded in London in the following year.
Foreign countries one after another imitated the English institution, and thus mountaineering rapidly developed. The first generation of Alpine clubmen retained a good deal of the old respect for mountains, but this has gradually faded away. One accident after another revealed the nature of the genuine perils particular to snowy regions, and it was discovered how to guard against them: the proper size of a party, the way to use the rope on snow and rocks, the condition of the snow itself at different times, the probability of avalanches of snow, ice, and rocks-all these matters and a hundred more had to be investigated by slow degrees, and experience of them had to be accumulated. We now know where men can go with safety, and how such safety is to be attained. This knowledge, skilfully put in practice, is the craft of climbing.
The craft thus developed in the exploration of the Alps has been already to some extent applied to the exploration of other mountain regions. The Pyrenees are not a difficult nor a lofty range, and the exploration of them was no hard matter. The Caucasus was quite another affair. That range is loftier, snowier, and on the whole more precipitous than the Alps. It is, moreover, afflicted with a less good climate, the proximity of the Black Sea producing frequent and heavy falls of snow throughout every season of the year. The chief credit for the exploration of the higher regions of this range belongs to Mr. D. W.
Freshfield, a recent President of the Alpine Club. He was a member of the first mountaineering party that ever visited the range (in 1868), and his writings prompted the journeys of other parties, by whom the exploration was carried to its present advanced stage. The second party went in the year 1873, the third in 1886, since which date there has hardly been a summer in which mountaineers have not climbed amongst Caucasian snows. 1888 was the great Caucasian year. In it the high peaks Koshtantau, Shkara, Janga, and Ushba (amongst others) were ascended for the first time by one or other of the three English parties that visited the range. The mountains, however, took a terrible revenge.
Messrs. Donkin and Fox, with their Swiss MOUNTAINEERING] guides, perished while attempting the ascent of Koshtantau, and their remains have never been discovered.
In North America an extensive range of mountains stretches from far south of the United States to Alaska, where Mount St.
Elias (18,092 feet) is the best-known culminating point. Its icy heights succumbed to the Duke of the Abruzzi's expedition in 1897. Mount M'Kinley also rises in Alaskan territory, and, with its 20,500 odd feet, is supposed to be the loftiest peak in North America. Dr. F. A. Cook, of North Polar notoriety, claimed to have reached its summit in 1906. The Canadian Rockies have recently received much attention, and the enthusiasts of the Canadian Alpin Club are gradually reducing the number of unclimbed peaks. Mount Assiniboine (11,839 feet), probably the shapeliest summit of the great groups, was first climbed in 1901 by the Rev. J. Outram with two Swiss guides.
The average height in the Rockies is 10,000 to 11,000 feet, but Mount Forbes, by some authorities considered the loftiest of all, stands nearly 14,000 feet above sea-level.
Proceeding to South America, and passing over minor elevations, there are two important parts of the Andes which have attracted the attention of European climbers; these are the great Andes of Ecuador and the Cordilleras of Chili and Argentina. The former were visited by Humboldt in the first decade of the past century, but though he made many interesting observations with respect to them, his journey was in no sense one of mountain exploration as now understood.
In 1879-80, Mr. Whymper carried through his famous expedition to these mountains, during which he twice ascended Chimborazo (20,475 feet), climbed and spent a night on the summit of Cotopaxi (19,613 feet), and made the first ascents of six other high peaks. The importance of this journey lies not so much in the mountaineering exploits accomplished, as in the fact that it set an example of what a mountain explorer should attempt to do in a new region. Mr.
Whymper carefully surveyed the country, carried mercurial barometers to the highest points, observed the effects of diminished atmospheric pressure on the human body, took a quantity of photographs, and made admirable collections illustrative of the geology, flora, fauna, and anthropology of the country. His work was of the highest scientific value. Mountaineering in his hands was raised from a mere athletic pursuit to the level of an important scientific method. Three years later, Dr. Güssfeldt explored the Cordilleras, a series of rugged peaks mounted on table-shaped masses of rock, and presenting exceptional difficulties to a climber. He encountered, like Mr.
Whymper, incessant bad weather. He ascended the extinct volcano Maipo (17,752 feet), and made two attempts to climb Aconcagua (23,080 feet), but was turned back by storms and the lack of good companions at a height of 21,000 feet. This peak was ascended to its highest point on two occasions by members of Mr. E. A.
Fitzgerald's expedition of 1896-97.
Sir W. M. Conway visited the Cordilleras in 1898, and performed much exploratory and scientific work. His most important ascent was that of Illimani (21,200 feet), and the great peak of Sorata at the other end of the chain was also assailed. A visit was also paid to the loftier recesses of Aconcagua, but the actual summit was not attained.
The record of mountain exploration in Africa is a somewhat brief one. The great mountain groups are all associated with long depressions, the hollows of which are filled by the lakes. The principal peaks are named Ruwenzori, Kenia, and Kilimanjaro.
The discoverers of Ruwenzori, the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition, ascended only its lower slopes. Kenia was recently climbed to about 17,500 feet level by Dr. Gregory.
Until as recently as 1906 only Kilimanjaro had been the goal of a properly organised mountaineering expedition. This was led by Dr. Meyer and Herr Purtscheller in 1889.
They made three ascents of Kibo (19,685 feet, aneroid measurement), the highest point of the range, and climbed to the top of one of the peaks of Mawenzi (about 17,000 feet), an extremely difficult ascent Ruwenzori was climbed in 1906 by a party under the leadership of the Duke of the Abruzzi. About the middle of June of that year the party trod the summits of the two highest peaks and named them respectively Margherita (16,810 feet) and Alexandra (16,744 feet).
A very important range of mountains in the Southern Hemisphere, the Alps of New Zealand, culminates in Aorangi (Mount Cook), a peak 12,350 feet high. Though the range is of but moderate elevation, it is snow-clad down to a level of about 7,000 feet, and produces large glaciers. The western slopes are steep, and broken up by many deep valleys, heavily timbered. In 1882, the Rev. W. S. Green, with two Swiss guides, made the first serious attack on these mountains. He explored the principal glaciers, and climbed to a point on the snowy dome of Aorangi. In the following year Dr. Lendenfeld climbed the Hochstetter Dome. These expeditions attracted the attention of the rising generation of colonists, a group of whom presently set themselves to acquire the mountain-craft for the purpose of continuing for themselves the exploration of their own range. Mr.
Mannering's interesting work, With Axe and Rope in the New Zealand Alps, tells the story of their early efforts. The Colonial Government was thus led, as has happened in other regions, to cause an excellent survey to be made of the most important mountain group. Photographers and holiday-makers were attracted to the valleys, a hotel was opened in the best centre, and in 1890 an Alpine Club was founded. On Christmas Day, 1894, the colonists made the first complete ascent of Mount Cook. In 1895 Mr. E. A. Fitzgerald, with the Swiss guide, M. Zurbriggen, made a series of very important first ascents of the chief peaks of the range, and discovered and crossed a pass over the central group.
Last in order of our survey, but first in importance, are the great mountains of Asia, which cover a larger area, and reach higher elevations than any other mountains in the world. From the short north and south chain, forming the eastern wall of the Pamirs, the chief ranges diverge fan-like eastwards, whilst the Hindu Kush trends to the west. It would be useless here to give the names of even the chief earthfolds which enclose Chinese Turkestan and bound or divide Tibet. The southern range alone, the Himalayas, which forms the north frontier of India, is in any sense explored, and the exploration of that has been but begun. The ranges of the interior have only been seen by occasional travellers.
None of them are explored. The Thian Shan, the Kuenlun, the Hindu Kush, are little more than names; some of their easier passes have been crossed, but that is all.
They, and still more the mountains of Tibet, are to all intents less known than the Mountains of the Moon. Parts of the Himalayas have been included in the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India, a work the magnitude and importance of which are little recognised at home. The surveyors ascended a large number of outlying points, many of them over 18,000 feet high, and fixed with great accuracy the position of the chief peaks and the trend of the ridges.
Less attention was paid to glaciation, the object of the survey being practical rather than scientific; but the general form of considerable areas of the range is recorded, and some districts are very well represented, notably a part of Kumaon. [MOUNTAINEERING Several serious mountaineering expeditions have been made to the higher regions of Asia, those great icy barriers of the Himalayas. As long ago as the year 1856 the brothers Schlagentweit climbed up the slopes of Ibi Gamin, in Gahrwal, to a height of 22,240 feet. Some of the surveyors for the Indian Government, notably Mr. Johnson, were reputed to have exceeded this performance. The first expedition to deserve important notice was the attack on the mountains of Kumaon and Sikkim by Mr. W. W. Graham in 1883. Amongst other great feats, this party climbed almost to the top of Kabru (24,015 feet), and, strange to say, until 1909 this remained the record for altitude. Some authorities with lofty records to their credit disputed Mr.
Graham's performance mainly because he carried no scientific instruments. Moreover, his party suffered no serious discomfort from the effects of rarefied air. It was w urged also that they might have mistaken the peak. The Government Survey had fixed the peak and its height unmistakably, and the greatest modern authorities, some of whom have visited Kabru, see no ca cause to doubt Mr. Graham's statement.
Other parties have suffered practically negligible distress from these great elevations, notably the Norwegian climbers, who almost conquered Kabru in 1908, of whom more later. sc The second expedition to the Himalayas was that organised by Sir Martin Conway in 1892. His party, led by the famous guide Mathias Zurbriggen, ascended Pioneer Peak, about 23,000 feet in height. They also traversed the three chief glaciers throughout their length, and crossed the Hispar Pass, said to be the longest glacier pass in the world. The late A. F.
Mummery's exploits on Nanga Parbat in 1895 are still fresh in climbers' memories.
His sad loss on one of the passes across the great peak was the most notable feature, but it should be mentioned that this remarkable mountaineer, for the most part alone, climbed the difficult rock face of Nanga Parbat to a height of nearly 21,000 feet without experiencing mountain sickne ness.
The visit of Mr. Douglas Freshfield and his party to the Sikkim Himalayas next calls for notice. His intention was to make the tour of Kangchenjunga, the third highest known peak (28,156 feet). They started from Darjiling, and, in carrying out their programme successfully, a vast amount of unexplored country was traversed. Their greatest elevation was 22,000 feet, and this was reached during the crossing of the Jonsong MOUNTAINEERING] La. The next noteworthy expedition to the Himalayas was that of Dr. and Mrs. Fanny Bullock Workman in 1902 and 1903. They visited the Karakoram Group, and, despite the assistance of several Swiss guides, little important climbing was made during the first year. However, in 1903 they made a way up the Chogo Lungma Glacier, and established a camp in good weather at a height of nearly 19,400 feet. Thence Dr.
Hunter Workman ascended to an altitude of 23,394 feet on Pyramid Peak, and the intrepid lady climber accompanied to a point about 700 feet lower.
A party of guideless Englishmen, Messrs.
A. Crowley, O. Eckenstein, and Guy Knowles, with a Continental climber, also visited the Karakorams in 1902. Beyond a long stay in camp during bad weather at an elevation of 20,000 feet, nothing of interest happened. In 1905 Mr. A. Crowley, with some friends, essayed the ascent of Kangchenjunga, the most accessible of the greatest peaks. Unfortunately, one of the mountaineers and some coolies were carried down by an avalanche, and the loss of life thus entailed led to the failure of this unsatisfactory undertaking. The remarkable successes of Dr. T. G.
Longstaff in 1905-1907 and 1909 next call for notice. With the two Italian guides Alexis and Henri Brocherel, he reached a height of nearly 24,000 feet on Gurla Mandhata. Much valuable exploration was also achieved. His next expedition was to the Nanda Devi Group of the Gahrwal Himalayas, and the summit of Trisul (23,406 feet) was gained in the June of 1907. This is the highest actual peak yet scaled; other ascents to loftier levels have stopped short of the crowning glory." 66 In 1909 Dr. Longstaff with Dr. Neve and Mr. Slingsby achieved startling discoveries amidst the unexplored regions of the Karakorams north of Kashmir. They crossed over the range by the old Saltoro Pass (18,200 feet), and on the farther side came upon an immense hitherto unknown glacier.
This great ice stream is, so far as is known at present, the largest glacier in the world, being almost fifty miles in length. Contrary to the information conveyed by modern maps, this glacier flowed to the south, and, cutting through the Karakorams, proved to be one of the main sources of the Indus. North, again, of this glacier great unknown chains of mountains, yet unmarked on any map, were discovered.
One at least was measured to reach a height of nearly 28,000 feet. Thus is recalled the suggestion of that early explorer Mr. W. W.
Graham that in the unknown north there is at least one peak loftier than Mount Everest.
This historical record must not be concluded without a mention of the creditable performance of two Norwegians, Messrs.
C. W. Rubenson and Monrad-Aas on Kabru.
This party had scarcely any experience of mountaineering, yet, travelling without guides, they almost reached the highest peak of Kabru. They suffered no ill-effects from the great height attained, and, despite bad weather, spent twelve or thirteen days in camps at heights over 19,500 feet. Thus it is not surprising to hear that Mr. Rubenson shares the opinion of Dr. Longstaff that Mount Everest can be scaled.
The most recent expedition to the great heights was that of the Duke of the Abruzzi in 1909. The important members of the party were the Duke, his adjutant, Marchese Negrotti, Dr. Fillippi, Cav. Sella, and eight Italian guides. Many fruitless attempts were made on the lower peaks of the Karakorams, but Mount Godwin-Austen was not even attempted. At last, after continuous bad weather, the Duke succeeded in climbing within about 700 feet of the top of Bride Peak, the approximate height reached being less than 24,500 feet. This may be considered the highest climb on record.
It is to be hoped that hereafter Englishmen resident in India will make the mountains of Asia a subject of exploration and study. They would undoubtedly have done so long ago but for the attractions of sport in the lower ranges. As markhor and ibex become rarer, it is not improbable that the great mountains will assert their charm, and a group of climbers will arise who will accomplish much more remarkable ascents than any that have yet been done in other regions of the world. The mountains of the North Polar area have not attracted much attention. Beerenberg, in Jan Mayen Island, has never been ascended. The mountains of Spitsbergen formed the goal of two expeditions, under Sir W. Martin Conway's leadership, in 1896 and 1897, when various peaks were climbed, the most important being Mount Hedgehog or Hornsunds Tind. All these mountains, however, are small in scale, though many in Spitsbergen are precipitous and fine in form. The Antarctic continent evidently contains more noteworthy mountain masses, none of which, with the exception of Mount Erebus by the Shackleton expedition, have yet been approached. The date of their ascent lies. perhaps, in a remote future, but it will assuredly come in due season.
The Sport and its Dangers.-Mountaineering may be considered from two points of view as a craft, or as a sport. Sports bear to crafts the relation that arts bear to handicrafts. A fine art is the glorified form of some craft. Before we treat of mountaineering as a sport, it is necessary to frame some idea of the craft upon which the sport is based. The craft of climbing is the method by which a man travels safely through a region of mountains, and especially of snowy mountains. It is primarily TRAVERSING HANGING SNOW-WREATHS ON STEEP ROCKS. the craft of getting about over glaciers and snow-fields, and of avoiding the dangers proper to such a region. Before you can avoid a group of dangers, you must know what they are. The dangers that snowy mountains provide are mainly of two kinds: there is the danger of things falling on to the traveller, and that of the traveller himself falling. The things that may fall on to him are rocks, ice, and snow. The traveller himself may fall down a hillside formed of rocks, ice, or snow, or he may fall into clefts or crevasses in the body of a glacier.
Lastly, there are dangers arising from weather. Eight dangers in all: falling rocks, falling ice, snow-avalanches, falls from difficult rocks, falls from ice slopes, falls down snow slopes, falls into crevasses, dangers from weather. It is in the avoidance of these dangers that the climbing craft [MOUNTAINEERING consists. They are here considered seriatim.
Falling Rocks. Every rock mountain is falling to pieces. The common phrase " old as the hills" expresses a common error.
Geologically speaking, hills are seldom old.
The crinkled-up ridges of the earth's crust are as rapidly pulled down again as heat, frost, and aqueous denudation can accomplish. The bigger and more precipitous a range, so much the newer is it, and so much the more rapidly being destroyed. Above the snow-line the process of destruction goes on faster than below. Snow collects on ledges, melts in the sunshine, and runs into cracks, then freezes and acts as a wedge, opening the crack wider. Thus rocks become detached from their beds, and, when the thaw comes, one or another falls away, bounds down on others loosened like itself, sets them in motion; and they in turn set more off, till a whole hillside becomes alive with falling blocks. To a man on the hillside the effect is appalling, but the chances in his favour are very great. Falling stones on a rock-face seldom hit an individual.
Generally a hill-side becomes ridged and furrowed by aërial and aqueous denudation.
Then the furrows or gullies become stoneruns, and in them a climber is liable to be in real danger from falling stones. A steep and very narrow rock gully is called a chimney; a wider gully, the bed of which is filled with snow or ice, is called a couloir, either a snow-couloir or an ice-couloir.
Stones do not often fall in chimneys. If they did, chimneys would be very fatal places. In couloirs stones frequently fall, but if the couloir is straight, falling bodies generally fly down the middle of it, where they make a deep furrow. If this furrow is carefully avoided, the danger will be reduced to a minimum. Of course, falling stones going down such a furrow carry some snow with them. This snow tends to form bridges over crevasses and bergschrunds; and it thus often happens that the only way to cross a bergschrund in a couloir is to go over the bridge thus formed, right in the track of the falling stones.
The danger here, however, is small, for the bergschrund is always at the bottom of the couloir, whilst the stones fall from the top, so that there is always time enough to get out of the way before a block comes.
The greatest danger from falling stones is in a bent couloir, for there the stones rattle and leap from side to side, and rake every point; but even then shelter can generally be found. under some overhanging rock.
Stones fall more on some days than others.
When a mountain is well covered by re- MOUNTAINEERING] cently fallen snow in good condition, stones seldom stir. As the snow melts, the stones begin to come down. In very fine seasons, after several weeks of sunshine, stones fall most plentifully on rock mountains, such as the Matterhorn; and a wary climber will then hesitate before undertaking ascents specially liable to this danger. Much also depends on the way in which a mountain is built, and on the materials of which it is composed. When the strata dip inwards towards the mass of the mountains, stones do not easily fall. When the strata dip outwards, stones fall more frequently.
Some kinds of rock are more friable than others; mountains built of very friable rock produce a bigger crop of falling stones than do other mountains made of better materials.
The Bietschhorn is a well-known example of a mountain that yields many falling stones.
The whole mass of it seems to be rotten.
On the other hand, the Chamonix Aiguilles, built as they are of very hard slabby rocks, though so steep, do not cast down many missiles. On the lower parts of glaciers, below the snow-line, where the ice comes to seen enormous masses fall from a great height, and not come to rest till they have reached the very bottom of some deep valley.
In this connection it may be best to refer to a peculiar kind of falling rocks, those, namely, which form mud-avalanches. They are rare in the Alps, but common in all the hot regions of the world where there are high mountain ranges. A mudavalanche takes its origin from rapid thawing of winter snow in the early part of the summer. The upper parts of mountains are then dripping wet. The water flows down little gullies, and sets the loose stones moving. A small fall of rocks high up dams up one of these gullies.
Water collects behind the dam and presently breaks it down. The muddy mass begins to flow and undermines the rotten banks of the gully. The sides fall in, and the moving mass is increased. Some big rock arrests it down and forms bigger dam. This is again broken. Thus the avalanche increases in size. The gullies join altogether like the branches of a tree. One little avalanche joins another till the whole hill-side is GIVING A SHOULDER UP A BERGSCHRUND. the surface and is not covered with snow, there are always more or fewer rocks on the ice. If the slope of the surface of the glacier be considerable, as at the sides it may be, and as at the snout it generally is, these stones, one by one, owing to the melting of the surface, become detached, and slither down the slope with increasing velocity. Such falling stones are very dangerous, for they may find a climber cutting steps up the slope and unable to stir an inch to dodge them; or they may fall on the head of a mere spectator standing on the solid earth near the edge or foot of the glacier. Fatal accidents have occurred in this manner. In the Himalayas stones fall in much larger proportional quantity than in the Alps. I have there lower a alive with these serpent-like, creeping masses. Ultimately, the whole thing collects together into the trunk gully, and is vomited forth with thundering tumult into the valley below. Such mudavalanches fill up the valley bottoms of Central Asia, and they have been the agents that formed, for example, the Pamirs. Mud-avalanches are so big and so noisy that they do not constitute a danger of much importance. They have their regular tracks, easily identified; and unless a man were to pitch his camp in such a track and be over-turned in his sleep, he would hardly be likely to encounter danger from these hideous things. Of great hillslidings and mountain-falls it is not necessary here to speak, for though villages are sometimes overwhelmed by them, and whole valleys rendered barren, they do not give rise to the mountaineering accident which climbers have to take into consideration.
Falling Ice. Falling ice constitutes a kind of mountain peril for which climbers have to be on the alert; but ice does not fall casually about the place any more than do rocks. Just as a mountaineer, by observing attentively the nature of the place he is climbing over and the marks that falling stones leave on rocks and snow, can tell whether he is in danger and where safety lies, and thus, by training his observation, can learn to avoid perils that inexperience CLIMBING STEEP SLAB ON THE AIGUILLE-MOINE, CHAMONIX. would lightly face, so the places where ice falls, or is likely to fall, can be even more easily identified and avoided. There is no quality more characteristic of a good moun- [MOUNTAINEERING taineer than trained alertness of observation. He knows the meaning of small indications that would escape the eye of any novice. He is as awake to observe the tokens about him as was any American trapper of old days for Indian "sign." He knows how the forces of nature act, and what are the marks of their action. Thus he is forewarned of dangers and able to avoid them. The attainment of this kind of capacity should be the aim of every young climber as much as the attainment of mere gymnastic skill.
Along the crest of narrow, snowy ridges of high mountains there is usually formed what is called a cornice, a larger or smaller overhanging wave of snow orice. A cornice is formed by some prevalent wind that carries the falling snow with it over the crest of a ridge. Beyond the crest is an atmospheric eddy which plasters the driven particles of snow against the crest.
The cornice grows from year to year till at last it becomes too heavy and breaks away and falls; or it may reach a maximum at which the yearly melting equals the yearly increment, in which case it maintains itself unbroken for a very long time. Of dangers connected with falling from, or through, cornices, we must deal later. It is here only necessary to observe that small portions of ice not infrequently fall on hot or windy days from the edge of the overhanging part of the cornice, where icicles frequently form, and these, dashing down the steep slope below, may be a cause of peril to climbers on the slope. A glance aloft will tell a climber whether there is a weak or broken edge to the cornice that is likely to give way. A col, or pass, approached on both sides by steep slopes, whereof the one to windward is of snow or ice, is almost always crested by a cornice. If this overhangs a rock wall, lumps of ice falling from it are liable to set stones going, as happened when the writer was crossing the Fuorela Prievlus in the Engadine. After descending the slope on the side which a cornice overhangs, climbers usually have to cut a tunnel through, or a gap in, the cornice, in order to climb actually to the crest of the ridge or pass. This is often a laborious process, and is dangerous when the cornice is in a rickety condition. Much depends, therefore, upon the point chosen for attack. This point should be selected from below, and the ascent directed towards it; for if the slope be steep and difficult it will be no easy matter, having arrived below the cornice, to work along to left or right beneath it, seeking too late for a suitable place to attack. On steep rock faces, where snow MOUNTAINEERING] collects in small patches on ledges and in crannies, a few hours of sunshine produce a great deal of melting. Water drips down the rocks and pours over edges, often into shadows where frost still holds. Icicles are thus formed, sometimes on a very large scale -growths as thick as a man's thigh. When the slope of the bed changes at a sharp angle or becomes very irregular, the ice flowing over it is rent and broken into dangerous forms. It often happens that, high up on a mountain, there is a hollow or corrie of suitable shape for snow to collect and a glacier to form. The glacier ALONG A DANGEROUS SNOW CORNICE. THE FIGURES ARE JUST ON THE BOTTOM LINE OF SAFETY. THE OVERHANGING MASSES ON THE RIGHT ARE APT TO BREAK AWAY. a really warm day comes, these icicles may fall in big lumps from directions that a casual climber would not suspect, and such falls may occasionally produce fatal consequences, though I do not remember any recorded accident of the kind. Every old climber, however, must have seen masses of ice falling from this cause, quite large enough to destroy any individual who happened to be in the way. Alertness in this case also is the only protector. An experienced mountaineer will recognise the kind of danger which mountains present on a particular day, and will be prepared to avoid it. The chief peril from falling ice, of course, arises where there are large icemasses in a position from which they can fall. The only very large masses of ice formed in snowy mountains must be a part of glaciers. As long as a glacier flows evenly down a gentle slope, it is not broken into lumps which can occupy a position of unstable equilibrium; but if the bed of a glacier is interrupted by a precipice, or if VOL. III moves down regularly enough till it comes to the edge of the hollow, where a very steep slope or precipice falls away. Under such circumstances, the end of the glacier, being constantly renewed from behind, breaks off at more or less regular intervals of time and falls in a body down the steep slope, where it smashes into powder, starts all the loose stones and snow in its way, and pours down in a mighty and destructive avalanche to some level place, at which it is stopped and re-formed into a solid mass.
Such hanging glaciers are easily seen, and the tracks followed by the avalanches they cause are discoverable from a great distance by trained eyes. A route that leads across such a track should be avoided by any man who is unwilling to hazard his life upon a chance over which he has absolutely no control. Almost every glacier at some point of its course flows down a slope steeper than the average steepness of its bed. Where it does so, it moves more rapidly than elsewhere, and thus it becomes rent in a manner P a that is more and more tumultuous in proportion to the steepness of the rapid and the unevenness of the rocky bed. A very uneven bed of gentle slope suffices to tear up the ice that flows over it into most irregular forms, as I constantly observed in the Karakorams in the case of glaciers that flowed across the strike of the vertically tilted strata that there prevail. In the Alps, glaciers are seldom much broken up, except where their slopes are steep; then they are torn in remarkable and picturesque manner into what is called an ice-fall. The towers and blocks of ice in an ice-fall are called seracs. As the glacier moves, the seracs are slowly tilted over, and, sooner or later, fall in ice-avalanches which overthrow other seracs below and pour down the icefall, spreading tumultuous ruin in their way. A young climber is not likely to underestimate the danger of an ice-fall. He will probably overestimate it, for seracs tumble much less frequently than their insecure appearance would suggest. An experienced mountaineer can form a very accurate idea of the probable stability of a serac. Often, however, though a serac itself may be firm enough, some undercut fragment of it may fall, a mere ton or so of ice, quite sufficient to overwhelm a climber. Ice-falls often have to be climbed as the only possible way of getting up a glacier (see illustration). They should never be attempted by inexperienced men without experienced guides. As a rule, they may be traversed by a judiciously chosen route, and no part of mountaineering is more fascinating than such work, done amongst the blue chasms and white towers that combine so beautifully. In the early morning, seracs seldom fall, but when the frost of night is gone, and the sun has been shining on an ice-fall for some hours, danger becomes greater and a safe route is hard or may be impossible to find. Then it is that unjustifiable risks are run, and the supreme penalty may have to be paid. Early in the year, say in June in the northern hemisphere, ice-falls are usually clogged with thick winter snow, which holds the seracs to gether and bridges over the chasms. They can then be passed with ease and safety; whereas in September, when all the snow has melted away, the self-same ice-falls may become very dangerous indeed, or quite impassable. There is a fourth kind of danger from falling ice, which, however, a climber rarely encounters. It occurs at the edge of some glaciers and at the snout of most.
When a glacier is swelling in width, or advancing, its outside edge often breaks away in large lumps and falls outwards. This [MOUNTAINEERING is more commonly seen in the Arctic regions than in the Alps or Himalayas. At the snout of every glacier, where the drainage river flows out from an icy cave, falls of ice frequently occur. Once, when I was encamped about 200 yards from the icecave of a very large glacier, a great mass of ice, weighing many thousands of tons, fell into the river, and dammed up a great part of its width, sending a huge torrent of water suddenly in a new direction. Our camp had the narrowest possible escape from being swept away in this unforeseen manner. It is always necessary to have foresight and caution when one is near what may be called the active parts of a mountain or glacier. a rock Snow Avalanches. We must now pass on to consider the dangers that come from accumulations of snow falling upon climber. These are some of the most insidious that the mountains present. Such falls, of course, are liable to occur only when snow is in an unstable condition—that is to say, either early in the year when the winter snow is rapidly melting, or after recent bad weather when there is a quantity of new snow about. Days when snow is in an unstable condition are very easily recognised; then it behoves the climber to be wary and keep his eyes about him. Small beds of snow that have accumulated on ledges then fall off, and suffice to upset a climber, notwithstanding their relative insignificance. Snow that has newly fallen upon slopes of ice is always liable to peel off and come thundering or swishing down in quantity sufficient to overwhelm or carry away a man. Couloirs are the normal lines of descent for such falling accumulations, and these places, usually pleasant highways for the step-cutting climber, become deathtraps when snow is in bad condition. Snow avalanches may be said never to fall in unexpected places. They have their regular gathering grounds, their fixed lines of descent, and they pile themselves up below in easily recognisable cones or fans. Thus, they can always be avoided by a man with his wits about him. Many a snow avalanche falls from some high-planted slope over a rock precipice, which it may leap like a waterfall, leaving no plainly marked traces of its habitual route; the piled-up fan below, however, betrays the danger, and the state of the snow on any particular day enables the climber to judge whether it be a present danger or not. Doubtless the chief peril of snow avalanches is that a climbing party may start one; but instances have occurred of snow avalanches descending on climbers.
Such accidents are always avoidable. They MOUNTAINEERING] are likely to be more frequent in snowy ranges in hot countries than in temperate regions.
We have briefly treated of some of the dangers that arise from falling things; we now approach the larger and more important branch of mountaineering dangers, those dangers, namely, involved in the chance of the climber himself falling. The most obvious kind of place from which a climber is likely to fall is from steep rocks. In the avoidance of slipping from difficult rocks, the gymnastic skill of a good climber largely consists. Steep rocks are not necessarily difficult to climb, for difficulty arises only where there is a lack of holding for hands and feet. Rocks may be very steep, yet as easy to climb as a ladder. It is thus the quality and formation of rocks that must be considered rather than the angle of their surface. The first question to be asked is whether rocks be firm or rotten. On firm rocks you know where you are, but not on rotten rocks. Every kind of precaution needs to be taken. The climber must test every handhold and foothold before trusting his weight to it; but this testing is no easy matter, for, where all the material is loose, you might pull down the mountain before coming to absolute security. An experienced rock-climber comes to know whether a loose rock is firm enough to bear his weight. This is a matter that cannot be taught; it comes from practice only. The weight of a moderate-sized rock is large compared with that of a man. The friction between rock and rock is considerable, and, as a supporting force, it varies with the weight. The amount of this force has to be instinctively estimated. That is what a skilful rock-climber does with almost infallible accuracy. The route up some mountains lies entirely over rotten rocks without, perhaps, a single absolutely firm place; yet the ascent can be safely made by skilful climbers.
The secret of success in negotiating steep, rotten rocks is to test every hold and never depend on a single support either for hand or foot; careful distribution of the weight is necessary. a Again, much depends upon how the climber throws his weight on a new point of support. If he moves in jerky manner he may bring down tons of material which a more evenly moving person would not stir. In such places, a climber has to think as much about his companions as about himself. He must avoid putting himself immediately below the man climbing in front of him, and he must be careful not to send stones down upon his 21[ follower's head. One to move at a time is the only safe rule, and it is of especial importance that all should keep as near together as possible. In all places of difficulty or danger, a party of mountaineers wears a rope, chief instrument of safety for climbers. The rope usually worn is a strong manilla cord of the kind called CLIMBING A WIDE CRACK.
Alpine Club rope, which is made only by Buckingham. A thinner rope, used double, is employed by some very skilful climbers, but the employment of it requires more experience, it must be discarded before it begins to be in the least worn, and it has other disadvantages to be set off against its most estimable lightness. As a general rule, there should be not less than three persons on a rope, and the strength of the party is approximately that of the weakest of the three. This refers to general moun- P2 taineering, but for rock work the skill and powers of the leader determine the possibilities of the party. If the leader can UP THE FRONT OF SHARP EDGE SADDLE-BACK. STRIKING EXAMPLE OF HOW NOT TO USE THE ROPE. overcome an exceptionally severe section and reach safe standing place, he can assist his companions by the aid of the rope, even if they be comparative novices. On snowfields, a large party may be united [MOUNTAINEERING by a single rope; but on rocks, large parties are to be avoided. In the case of really good rock-climbers, two may go on one rope, but three are always better than two. Five are the maximum number for rocks. A party of six should be subdivided into two parties of three, which should keep well out of each other's way. The length of rope which should intervene between any two members of a party varies with the nature of the work to be done. In the case of very difficult rocks, when one man only moves at a time, and when firm resting places come only at long intervals, men need to be widely separated from one another. The leader, starting from one firm place, climbs to the next whilst the others (or at any rate the second man) remain stationary. When the leader is firmly anchored, he draws in the rope as the second man comes up, not helping him by a pull, but being always ready to prevent him from slipping by "pipping a slip in the bud" before the man slipping has acquired any momentum. If the rope is loose above a man when he begins to fall, he will come on it with a jerk, when he has fallen some distance, and the force of the jerk will be proportional to the square of the distance through which he has fallen.
Thus a fall which might be stopped with ease if the rope were properly handled may be fatal when the rope is allowed to hang loose between one climber and the next.
To ropes fixed for the purposes of descent, or looped and cast up over catching points of rock to enable otherwise impassable precipices or overhangs to be surmounted, reference will be made hereafter; such refinements belong rather to the art than to the craft of climbing. To return to the rotten rocks from which we have deviated: the rope in such places must be handled with excessive care, for nothing is easier than, by means of it, to start loose stones and send them down on the heads of those below. Where rocks are much broken, there are many angles and crannies for the rope to catch in, and a rope thus caught may hold back a climber in the midst of some critical step, and be cause of annoyance, if not of danger. As a general rule it is enough, when one man only is moving at a time, that the man immediately above the actual climber should be firmly placed and should draw in the rope as the climber comes up; but with a party on a face or ridge of rotten rocks, where no one is really secure, the rope had best be kept stretched throughout, so that all of them together are as one individual, and a shock at any point is sustained by all and distributed over the MOUNTAINEERING] whole party. This is so much the more easily done and the more effective on rotten rocks because, in order that one should not cast down fragments on another, the ascent should not be made straight up, but diagonally. If the ascent has to be made straight up, the members of the party must keep as close together as possible, taking advantage of every piece of cover the hillside affords, dodging from shelter to shelter as a dog in tropical countries rushes from shadow to shadow when the sun scorches.
In ascending an arête, or ridge, of rotten rock, one side of it will generally be found more firm and secure than the other, facts that are known to guides in all fully explored regions. The discovery of them has only to be made in the case of new ascents or by guideless climbers. Similarly, on faces of rock, some parts will be more rotten than others, and there will be safer and less safe lines of ascent which a knowing mountaineer will detect even from a distance. Naturally, on big mountains, ribs are to be chosen in preference to gullies. A face of rotten rock will vary in danger according to weather.
It will be most dangerous after a long spell of fine weather; whilst if it be fairly white with recently fallen snow in firm condition, it may be absolutely safe. I once found the west face of the Zinal Rothhorn thus bound by hard frozen new snow, and was enabled to climb straight up it, a route no one has ever ventured to repeat.
Difficult Rocks. The dangers encountered on firm rock are of various kinds, but in the main they are to be met by the same precautions as those employed on rotten rock-the rope, foresight, care, and practice. Perhaps the greatest danger on difficult rocks is that they are liable to be attempted by inexperienced men. Competent climbing parties have seldom come to grief, even on the most difficult rocks.
Accidents can generally be traced to the inexperienced member, or members, of a party. Experienced climbers, even when they are not, gymnastically speaking, good climbers, know what kind of work they can safely undertake, and confine their activities to that. Enjoyment ceases when a man ventures into positions where he is not master of his surroundings.
The difficulty of climbing firm rocks increases as the number of good handholds and footholds diminishes. Danger need by no means increase in the same proportion if proper care be taken, for this reason: when a single member of the party has reached a really firm position, he becomes a far more secure anchor than one man can ever be on ice or rotten snow. Rocks are very difficult indeed if good holding is not to be found at vertical intervals of about IO feet.
The risky spaces between can be robbed of their dangers by proper use of the rope.
The proper way to use the rope depends upon the strength of the party, for difficulty in such places is inversely proportional to the skill of the climbers. One man may be able to traverse with ease a passage which another could not traverse at all. For safety's sake, even direct help may have to be given to weaker mortals. A strong and experienced leader is the first necessity.
Nothing that comes in his way on the particular ascent must be too hard for him, for if he falls the whole party will probably be dragged down, unless the second man is very firmly planted and very handy with the rope. General descriptions and theories, however, will not cover such cases.
A rope carelessly handled is dangerous on snow; it is much more dangerous on rock. For in falling from, or with, snow there is certain to be much friction; from rocks a man may easily fall through the air and attain a maximum of acceleration in a given distance. Hence on rocks that are difficult to a given party of climbers, the only way to arrive at safety is for not more than half the party to be moving at one time, and for those who are stationary to draw in the rope as the others advance.
When all are moving at once, the rope is liable to catch on knobs or in cracks of rock and thus to bring up one or another with a sharp jerk which may produce disastrous consequences. Guides and very good climbers are liable to become careless about the rope, for they judge others' safety by their own sense of security. If the rope is kept stretched no one can really begin to fall, except when traverses are being made, and I am now discussing direct ascents of rocks, not horizontal or diagonal traverses across them. All except absolutely firstclass rock-climbers should make attention to the proper use of the rope a ceaseless care, both for themselves and their guides and companions. A party of first-class rock-climbers of experience know what they may venture to do, and are a law unto themselves.
When a horizontal traverse has to be made across very difficult rocks, a dangerous situation may arise unless at both ends of the traverse there be really firm holding and plenty of it. Even then, the first and last men will have to rely upon themselves for salvation rather than on the rope. A middle man may be easily held up.
Sometimes it is possible to climb to a point above the traverse and there fix a kind of extra pendulum rope, whereby perfect security may be attained; but the fixing of such ropes takes much time, and is not likely to be undertaken if it can possibly be avoided. Most climbers would rather take Such [MOUNTAINEERING do so gradually, and, as far as possible, without jerks. It is seldom necessary, and never advisable, to jump. The best climbers advance with wonderfully little fuss flurry, and worm themselves over difficulties. or a risk than so much trouble. Fixed ropes The proper use of the feet is imperative are often used in places of extreme diffi- in serious rock-climbing. The hands should culty, especially in the descent, when they can be readily and quickly fastened and detached almost as easily by a clever jerk. To fix a rope to a point entirely out of reach, by casting, is not at all easy, and generally takes much time. Nails or pegs are sometimes carried to be driven into cracks, where holding is deficient and a slip would be destructive. Such elaborate developments belong rather to the art than the craft of climbing and need not be discussed here.
Their use will be learned by experience, not from description. The climbing of mountains where ropes or chains are permanently fixed is no part of genuine mountaineering.
Mutual assistance on difficult rocks takes all manner of forms. One man may climb on to another's shoulders, both leaning against some steep wall, and yet a third may use them as a ladder and so reach firm handhold and draw himself up. An axe may be reached forward to form footing, when nature has not provided any. manœuvres can only be learnt on the mountain side, not from books. The principle is that all the members of a party must cooperate, that none must consider himself solely, but each must climb with constant reference to his predecessor and follower.
He must neither stop nor start without warning. The rope is more than a mere mechanical safeguard; it is a connecting bond that unites all the members of a climbing party into a single being, which acts, foresees, and moves as one man. To learn how to merge individuality into this larger unit is perhaps the chief element in the acquisition of the climbing craft. Walls and vaguely defined gullies provide on the whole the most difficult rock-climbing, but chimneys and ridges, or arêtes, are commoner, and, generally speaking, less difficult, because they have two sides and thus offer a constant alternative for a way. There is, however, no difference between the precautions to be taken in such places and those suited to rock walls. The greatest of all dangers on difficult rocks is a hasty scrambling sort of companion, a man who thrusts himself forward before he has made sure of his next step. Never quit a position till you know what your next position is to be.
Make trial of handhold and foothold before transferring your weight to them, and then CLIMBING A ROCK BUTTRESS, SHOWING THE BELAYING OF THE ROPE BEHIND THE SECOND MAN. be used as little as possible for direct lifting of the body. Rather should they be utilised as anchors whilst the feet step circumspectly upwards. A man's legs are stronger than his arms, and the latter usually give out first. The leader of a party should always remember that it is folly to force a way up a very severe section until his powers are exhausted. Perhaps some promising-looking handhold and good restingplace may seem to be attainable up above. On arrival the hold may be loose or unsatisfactory, and the ledge slope hopelessly MOUNTAINEERING] downward. On such an occasion, if the leader have no reserve of strength to descend, or the difficulties of doing so seem to him insuperable, he is very likely to fall and cause disaster even to the whole party.
The hitching or belaying of the rope around some outstanding rock would most likely save the rest of the party, if the second climber is, as he should certainly be, prepared. The Alpine Club rope is tested to hold a 12-stone man falling ten feet. If the leader is beyond this distance above his fellows, the rope will thus almost certainly break around the belay. Of late years many miraculous escapes have happened to the rest of the party in this way. Yet even the leader may fall a greater distance than ten feet, and contact with the rocks may break the force of his descent sufficiently to enable the rope to save him.
Steep rocks vary in condition with the weather in a most remarkable manner.
After a long spell of fine weather, when the snow and ice that has collected in their nicks and crannies is all melted away and every ledge and crack is exposed, they are at their best and easiest. After a fresh fall of snow, the holdings are masked so that lengthy research is needed to find them. If this snow has been partially melted and frozen again, a quantity of thin ice will be formed which often constitutes a danger of the highest order or even renders progress impossible. Something may be done with the axe to chip ledges in such ice or to clear it away, but the ice-varnish seldom adheres strongly. enough to the rock to make it safe footing, whilst a very thin veneer of what is called verglas cannot be obliterated by any process except nature's own melting.
The one safeguard which has any value at all on iced rocks is the use of climbing-irons (Steigeisen, Crampons), which are fastened on the feet like skates; or their place may be to some extent supplied by long metal spikes, which can be screwed, when needed, into the soles of the boots. Good climbingirons are not easy to get. They are commonly made in Tyrol only. Ice-slopes and Step-cutting. -Climbingirons are one of the best means for avoiding many of the dangers of climbing on ice. the matter which next claims our attention. Few positions seem more dangerous on a mountain side, or are really more safe, than an ice-slope, unless it be extravagantly steep. Ice is a very firm and sound thing to stand upon, containing no hidden perils, and hardly ever giving way without notice. The ice-axe is the weapon by means of which ice-slopes are ascended, and knowledge of its uses is necessary for every a THE TATE LIBRARY, BRIXTON, S.W accomplished mountaineer. The uses of this tool, as of all others, must be learnt and acquired. Some men cut steps more quickly, more neatly, and in positions less easy of access than others. A great deal has been written on "form" in step-cutting.
Here let it suffice to say that the art must be learned by watching how an accomplished craftsman works, and by imitating him. The man who aspires to climb without guides needs to practise step - cutting; guideless climbing tests the capacity of a mountaineer better than anything else. Certainly, a man should be able to climb without professional assistance; but, in my opinion, if he wishes to be a really accomplished mountaineer, in the broadest sense, he will do well to indulge but moderately in this sport, for a climber who does his own guiding, step-cutting, and SO forth, must have his attention entirely riveted on the work in hand. His powers of observation are thereby limited, and if he bear a heavy burden they are limited still more. To take full advantage of the opportunities of observation and enjoyment of all sorts which climbing affords, it is essential that the rough work of making the way be done by someone else. If the climber is also exploring, this is even more emphatically essential. But as accidents may always happen, and the amateur may at any moment be thrown on his own resources to bring his party out of peril, there is no doubt that he should learn the craft thoroughly in all its branches. The use of the axe is perhaps the most important branch of the craft. We are now discussing only step-cutting in ice; the security of a party on an ice-slope depends upon the way in which the steps are cut. If they are ragged, insecure, and outward sloping, they are a cause of danger. An ice-step must always be slippery; it generally therefore needs to be large. Here it is that spikes or climbing-irons are so helpful; they enable steps to be made smaller, less carefully, or, ICE-AXE. on gentle slopes, to be avoided altogether.
Where to save time is to avoid danger from weather or falling things, climbing-irons are a great safeguard. The chief danger on an ice-slope is the danger of a slip. It is harder for the steady members of a party to hold up a falling companion when their own position is one of insecurity. Climbing-irons minimise the chance of a slip and multiply the chances of arresting it; they should therefore always be carried when ice-slopes are expected; the relative position of neighbouring steps is also an important CUTTING STEPS UP THE GREAT COULOIR ON THE WETTERHORN. CHARACTERISTIC POSITION OF THE LEADER. matter; they should not be cut too far apart, for time is only thereby saved at the cost of safety. Let the step-cutter consider the next stride carefully before placing his blows. This is only one more instance of the constant foresight which mountain climbing calls for, and whereby it becomes SO powerful an agency for character development in its votaries. Amongst difficult seracs an infinite variety of problems is raised by choice of a route. Once started in a certain direction, it often happens that one way only can be taken, so that an initial [MOUNTAINEERING mistake may lead into insurmountable difficulties; nothing demands more experience than the selection of route through seracs.
This art too can be learnt only by practice.
Seracs present problems much more difficult than any ice-slope, for it frequently happens that quite vertical or even overhanging, though short, cliffs of ice have to be surmounted, and thus gymnastic accomplishments of the first order are required, especially for the step-cutting leader. It is seldom, however, that, under such circumstances, more than one of the party is in a position of peril, and the danger is generally minimised, or entirely removed, by the rope properly employed.
Snow-slopes. The avoidance of falls from slopes of snow is usually a simple matter, but it cannot be very briefly treated, for the whole question of snow-craft is hereby raised. Snow on high mountains exists in a multitude of different states and conditions; sometimes it is powdery, like flour, sometimes granular like hail, sometimes firm and hard, almost like ice, sometimes slushy, rotten, and unsupporting; sometimes it binds easily, and, when trodden down, produces firm footing, sometimes no amount of treading produces a firm foundation. Moreover, what is under the surfacesnow affects the quality of the footing. When snow rests on rocks it is usually rotten; when snow rests on other snow it is frequently good; when it rests on ice it may be, and generally is, very dangerous unless steps be cut right through into the ice. Once you really know what is the condition of the snow and take the proper consequent precautions, you are probably safe; but to know this you need much experience, and the secret of divination is one that some men can never learn. The signs whereby experienced climbers judge of these matters are many and minute. They must be learnt on the hillside. Old hands can often tell by merely looking, from a great distance it may be, at a snow-slope, what is its condition at the time. Sometimes the snow over a whole district is rotten at once, and a sample of it encountered anywhere shows what the rest is like. A young climber cannot do better than to pay continual attention to these matters. There are slopes which at one time consist of snow, at another of blue ice, at another of ice covered by snow. An ice-slope is easily recognisable from a great distance; an iceslope covered with snow may be betrayed by the sliding off of a very small portion.
Such indications may decide whether certain ascent should or should not be forthwith attempted. Old descriptions of mouna MOUNTAINEERING] taineering often confuse hard snow with ice; there is really little similarity. Naked ice is a rare thing above the snow-line, and can only be formed under peculiar conditions. Most slopes and beds of any size are likely to be of snow. Snow cannot lie at a very high angle; few snow-slopes make with the horizon an angle of more than 40°, a steeper slope rapidly sheds the snow that falls upon it; snow in good condition cannot be newly fallen; it must have had time in which to settle down. Such snow may be treated in the most easy-going manner.
It forms the natural highway of the mountains. Where it is steep, steps may be sliced in it with a single dragging blow of the axe swung pendulum-like in one hand; the foot, shod with climbing-irons, can take firm hold on it without any step at all.
Firm, hard-surfaced snow of this kind seldom lasts after the morning sun has shone on it for an hour; the crust softens and in you go, probably into a rottener substance beneath. Still, however, you are safe. As the sun obtains more power, the whole surface layer may change its consistency and become soft and rotten. Advance now becomes laborious, and danger may arise if the rotten mass lies on ice or at a steep angle; the danger is that it may begin to slide downhill, forming an avalanche. Snow avalanches seldom fall off slopes in the summer, except when the snow has recently been precipitated; it is almost always new snow that makes summer avalanches. This is one of several extra dangers that lurk in the hills just after a spell of bad weather; at such times incessant vigilance is required.
That you may start an avalanche and go down with it is the greatest danger that snow provides, but it is not a danger that can be encountered unawares. It is easy to tell when the snow you are actually treading into is utterly rotten; inexperienced climbers are more likely to overestimate than to underestimate such a risk. The danger is greatest when such a slope has to be traversed and there is a cliff below it. Sometimes the impending fall is foretold by the formation of a crack right across the slope; it is best then to cross close to the crack and just below it. If the fall then occurs you will be at the top of the falling mass. Under such conditions it is advisable to dig steps in the slope as deep as possible, right into the hard and perhaps icy core-a very slow and laborious process. It is less dangerous to advance straight down rotten snow, because the slope is not then weakened right across. If an avalanche does start with a party, the rope may become more of a danger than a help. a The thing to do is for each man to turn his face up the slope, and endeavour by a kind of swimming action to keep his head up out of the snow and to get to the back of the avalanche. As long as the thing is moving, it remains soft, but the moment it comes to rest on leveller ground great pressure is set up, and the whole mass hardens, so that any person whose head is buried beneath the surface is almost certain to be suffocated; thus the vital matter is to keep the head above the snow. In descending snow-slopes in fair condition it is often easy to slide down, or glissade." When the surface is fairly hard, the glissade may ،، ALONG THE ICY SUMMIT RIDGE OF THE MÖNCH, GRINDELWALD, SHOWING STEADYING USE OF THE ICE-AXE IN PASSING ALONG STEEP, FROZEN SLOPES.
The be made in a standing posture; but this, though not difficult, requires a little practice.
Sitting glissades are less enjoyable, because the loose snow is likely to pervade the clothes, filling the pockets, and finding its way in at every opening; still, the process is so time-saving that it is sure to be adopted whenever the opportunity occurs. danger of glissading, for inexperienced persons, is that they may glissade in the wrong place. You cannot glissade down ice, for your feet slip away from under you, your axe-point ceases to act as a drag, and you become a mere falling body uncontrolled; thus, it is folly to begin glissading unless you are certain that there is no iceglazing on the surface of the slope lower down, and it is wrong to glissade down snow that rests on ice; again, you must be in no doubt as to the nature of the slope below. If there may be cliffs or bergschrunds, hidden by some bulge or corner, no one should glissade who is not sure of being able to arrest his motion without fail.
Finally, it is a mistake to glissade down very rotten snow, for you may start an GLISSADING ATTITUDES ON THE WAY DOWN THE EIGER. (The Jungfrau behind.) avalanche and be carried down with it. Experience alone enables a climber to judge of such matters; the novice should always err on the safe side.
Crevasses. We have thus very briefly completed the catalogue of the places a climber is likely to fall from and of the things that may tumble on to him. There remain to be considered the holes into, or the things through which a climber may tumble. These are practically summed up in the words "Crevasses" and "Cornices."
Crevasses are of two kinds, open and concealed; they occur, of course, only in glaciers and their snow tributaries. Below the snow-line-that is to say, below the level where on a given day the previous twelvemonth's snow-fall has just been melted away-crevasses are for the most part open, and there is no mistake about them. If a man falls into an open crevasse it is his own fault, unless he is knocked into it by a falling mass or a blundering companion.
Above the snow-line, where recent snow lies on the surface of a glacier or a snow-field, crevasses are frequently hidden-roofed [MOUNTAINEERING over by the later accumulations of snow.
Immediately after a heavy fall of snow has occurred it is sometimes impossible for the most observant eye to discover the faintest trace of a concealed crevasse. When a few days have passed, there will probably be produced a slight dipping of the surface, or merely a barely perceptible change of colour or texture of the snow that roofs a crevasse over. Only the most experienced mountaineers perceive such slight indications with any kind of habitual certainty. Less skilful persons must probe with the axe to obtain the same information, though by keeping a sharp look-out to right and left and noticing carefully the form of the glacier surface where it bulges or twists-many hints may be derived as to the nature of the ice under its snow-mantle at a particular spot. A master of snow-craft hardly ever falls into a hidden crevasse, or permits a member of the party he leads so to fall. It is remarkable with what security such a man can wander alone over snow-fields, but his example in this respect is not one that the amateur should follow. The great and sufficient safeguard against concealed crevasses is the rope. If that is properly used, hidden crevasses need have no terrors even for comparative novices. A party of ordinary persons on a snow-field should consist of at least three united by a proper rope. More skilful persons may, if they choose, go in a party of two, especially if they employ Mr. Mummery's double-rope precaution, which need not here be described. Assuming that there are three or more on the rope, they should not blunder along, as nine climbers out of ten are often wont to do, with the rope dragging on the snow, but each should gather up the slack of the line in front of him, so that in case of anyone falling through, his fall may be arrested at once. If the rope is properly handled, no one need ever go more than waist-deep into crevasse. The real trouble only begins when, owing to blundering, a man falls right through and hangs at the end of a longish piece of rope. The rope then cuts into the lip of the crevasse, and, when it is hauled in, the pendant person is not dragged out, but only against the side of the crevasse, or, worse still, against the remainder of its overhanging roof. Men accompanied only by ignorant companions have hung in such a position for an hour or so, and been nearly suffocated by the constriction of the rope. It is, of course, only the first or last member of a party that can come into such trouble; any middle member has a rope leading from him both fore and aft, and is easily raised. a MOUNTAINEERING] The right thing to do if the end man falls deeply into a crevasse is for his neighbour from whom he hangs to make himself perfectly firm with his axe well fixed and so forth. Then the next man unropes, or, if there are more than three, all the other members of the party unrope, and the loose end of the rope, with a loop tied in it, is tossed over to the pendant man, who by help of it, and of the cord round his own waist, climbs out himself rather than is hauled out by the others. The details of the process depend on the nature of the edge of the particular crevasse. If an extra rope is in the pack, the unroping is, of course, avoided. In the case of a party consisting only of two, and having no more rope than a single line to unite them, such a situation would be sensational in the highest degree.
The upper edge of a snow-field resting against rocks is generally quite thin. Its weight, therefore, being inconsiderable, and the friction of its bed great, it has no tendency to move and flow down after the manner of viscous matter as do great accumulations of snow and ice. A little way from the rocks, however, the snow will be deeper, and the mass will begin to partake of the movement of the glacier. It follows that at some point, not far from the rocks, a crevasse must be formed, dividing the snow that adheres to the rocks from the snow that forms part of the glacier. Each winter this crevasse will be filled up, but it will be as constantly formed again. Such a crevasse is called a bergschrund. The top edge of every normal glacier, where it abuts against rocks, is outlined by a bergschrund. As the summer season advances, bergschrunds grow wider and wider. Early in the year they may be entirely bridged over, but any climber who knows his business can tell where one is certain to be situated, however deeply it may be buried.
As melting proceeds, the roof opens, and skill is required to discover the best point of passage. The strongest bridges, as stated before, are liable to be in the track of falling stones. Very large bergschrunds are wont to present problems of great complexity for a climber, and some, ultimately passed, have taken hours to get over, when the ice-wall on the far side has had to be climbed. Danger in all such places is avoided by care, experience, and a rope properly used to suit the peculiar circumstances of the case. In the lower parts of glaciers, where there is no snow-covering and all the crevasses are open, there is sometimes found an ice-bridge formed across a wide crevasse by some of the countless freaks that ice plays. The strength of such a bridge is difficult to estimate. I have seen one in the Himalayas, which my whole caravan of fifty men walked over unroped, yet it broke up by its own weight and fell crashing into the bowels of the glacier a few moments later and just CROSSING A SNOW BRIDGE ON THE SCHRECKHORN. LEADER SOUNDING STRENGTH OF BRIDGE WITH ICE-AXE. when I was about to set foot on it myself.
In a general way, it is well to give a wide berth to exceptional phenomena of this kind. The lip of an open crevasse rarely behaves in the same fashion, but cases have occurred of narrow escapes and even of fatal accidents from this cause.
Cornices. The only way to escape the danger of falling through a cornice formed on the crest of an arête is never to go on one. e. If a man knowingly walks on the top of a cornice and it lets him fall, the cause is his own folly. The trouble, however, generally is that people walk on to a cornice unwittingly. This means bad leadership.
Any snow arête may be corniced; most narrow arêtes are. It follows that the condition of things must be investigated and the facts made certain in advance. Much may be inferred from small indications, or the whole problem may be solved by a distant view of the peak a day or two before the climb, for cornices are visible from a great distance under suitable illumination.
If, however, the party arrives on the ridge in ignorance of the state of affairs, it is essential to make careful investigation a before proceeding. Fatal results from the breaking of a cornice under a party have been avoided by one of the number leaping over to the other side of the ridge and holding on, but such tours de force are likely to be rare. As a rule, when a cornice breaks, a party on it will be destroyed.
A rarer danger is that of falling into tunnels of ice or snow. Such tunnels seldom exist after the early part of the season, for they are formed by streams flowing down gullies and under beds of avalanche snow or at the foot of some small glacier. It is not till their roofs fall in that their nature becomes apparent.
When the roof is becoming thin is the perilous time, for the tunnel is then at its biggest, and the torrent within is most swollen. The upper part of the gully will probably be filled with a strong, deep bed of snow, very inviting for a glissade. The place being low down on the mountain, the rope will have been laid aside, and the members of the party may be widely scattered. One will start glissading; before he realises his situation, he is shooting over the thin crown of the tunnel, which gives way and lets him through. He is stunned by a fall of perhaps twenty feet or more and then carried away by the torrent. Such are exceptional dangers which have to be specially guarded against.
Weather. We have now to consider the large group of dangers that result from bad weather in a high mountain region. Incidentally, we have already referred to some which need not be repeated in this place.
Actual storms seldom destroy mountaineers directly, at all events in the Alps in summer, for though cold may be fairly intense, the persons subjected to it are likely to be strong men, well fed, and in good training.
Doubtless there have been instances of climbers blown from a narrow arête, but such misfortunes are likely to be rare. Instances are on record of climbers being struck by lightning. It is remarkable that this does not happen oftener. The shock is not likely to be fatal at high altitudes, for it is seldom so intense as at low levels. Electrical discharges on rock mountains usually take place at a great number of points in rather rapid succession, and are individually small. Still, they are enough to stun a man.
Accidents may have happened from falls from difficult rocks, caused by lightning stroke. The great danger from bad weather arises from the rapid change produced in the condition of a mountain, and from the difficulty which may arise of finding the way in fogs, clouds, and snow. Parties overwhelmed by storms have on [MOUNTAINEERING Cormany recorded occasions become so demoralised that they have simply taken themselves into destruction. The great thing to do is to remain clear-headed, to keep moving, and not to lose pluck. There is nothing so demoralising as to sit still in a raging gale.
Cold then becomes an increasingly potent enemy; the vitality is sapped, the power of initiative is diminished, foolish counsels attain the ascendant, and all manner of misfortunes are likely to ensue. Next to standing still, the most ill-advised line of action is one of frantic haste in difficult places. Never is patience more essential than when the elements are furiously raging.
Never is caution more continuously called for. After a few hours of furious storm, some member of the party will probably beg to be left where he is, to sleep and die.
There must be no paltering or yielding.
The man must be forced to go on. poral punishment may be necessary. Lives have often been saved by its prompt administration. It is on such occasions that a strong leader, physically as well as morally strong, becomes invaluable. He keeps his party steadily, however slowly, advancing.
His will supplies the lack of will in others.
The lower you can come before black night descends, the better the chance of salvation.
If you are ultimately forced by pitch darkness to stay where you have arrived, activity must still be maintained, and every step taken to keep up the moral of every member of the party. They must dance if there is a ledge to dance on. They must thump one another the long night through. They must eat whether they like it or not. In general, the opinion, not of the majority, but of the strongest, must prevail. Few well-led parties have ever come to grief through the rage of the elements. Half the accidents that have occurred to parties overtaken by storms have resulted from the climbers being insufficiently clothed. One hears of people being frozen to death, and then it transpires that they wore no flannel clothing and perhaps even no woollen socks. Such lack of foresight is almost criminal. However finely a day may open, it may close in storm, and for such an event preparation must be made. Warm clothing is essential for all climbers. To this matter we shall presently return. Another cause of misfortune is insufficient strength and condition in particular climbers. They come out, perhaps, enfeebled from home, overworked, it may be; they begin with climbs of too severe a nature for their powers; storm overtakes them, and their forces fail. Such mistakes should not be made. A strong and well-nourished party can weather MOUNTAINEERING] almost any Alpine storm in the summer months if they are properly led. When all the surroundings are blotted out in fog and swirling snow, a larger gift of intelligence is called for in the guide than mere instinct can supply. It is extraordinary how soon the normal aspect of surroundings changes under such conditions. It is scarcely possible to recognise well-known ground thus masked. Moreover, the tendency of men to walk crookedly on featureless expanses of snow when fog envelops them, seldom fails to lead a party off the right track unless precautions are taken. The moment it becomes evident that a storm is brewing, the question whether an ascent should be continued or retreat sounded should be discussed. The fools of the party are always for going on. Those who are wiser base their decision on a consideration of all the circumstances of the case-the nature of the mountain, the character of the ground that has to be traversed in the descent, and so forth. A careful examination of the route to be followed should be made while there is yet time, points of turning noted, compass bearings taken, the position (in some circumstances) marked on the map, and so forth. Even if a halt has to be called to this end, it should be done; time thus spent is well invested. On rocks, it is generally as easy to find the way (unless it is a wholly new way) in fog as in clear weather, but on wide snow-fields this is far from the case.
On these an intelligent man with a compass and a good map, if he knows exactly where he is on the map to start with, can find his way as certainly and almost as easily in fog as in fine weather. I have myself guided a party in dense fogs day after day up mountains and across snow-passes, which none of us had ever seen before, by help of map and compass alone. The business requires a little judgment and intelligence, but it is beyond the powers of any professional guide I have ever known. For example, no decently led party should ever be lost through fog on the upper part of Mont Blanc; yet numerous fatal accidents have occurred there from this cause, owing to inefficient guiding. Probably the worst trouble to be faced in fog is a descent through a complicated maze of crevasses or an ice-fall. If the place can be seen before the fog comes on, the route to be followed should be discovered, and a good guide should be able to carry it in his head.
That is the kind of special intelligence which a guide may be expected to possess.
Of course, if the ice-fall is round a corner, out of sight, till the fog has enveloped it, there is nothing but luck to depend upon.
Alpine Climbing for Beginners. We have thus very briefly and necessarily incompletely discussed the dangers which the climbing craft has been developed to avoid or overcome. In describing them, the nature of the craft itself has been described.
The next point to be considered is the method whereby a beginner may best set to work to learn this craft. In an article like the present, written mainly for Englishmen, it is, of course, Alpine climbing that is chiefly kept in view, for the Alps are the natural playground of the English mountaineer. They are, at all events, the best place for a learner to gain experience of the world of snow and ice. In Great Britain there are plenty of opportunities for a rock-climber to practise his skill.
Most of the finest climbers and mountaineers of the day have acquired the bulk of their skill on homeland mountains. The crags of Great Britain, if thoroughly mastered under winter and summer conditions, educate the beginner so thoroughly that when he visits the Alps he may find himself a better rock-climber than most of the guides, and quickly able to master the technique of icemanship. He must visit the regions of glaciers and everlasting snow to learn this latter part of the craft. The beginner would be well advised to consult "British Mountain Climbs" (Mills and Boon) for where and how to climb in Britain.
In the Alps the arrangements for climbing are very complete. Unlike the homeland mountains, where professional help is rarely available, the pleasures of mountain travel are attainable by any active man, or even ev woman, who cares to engage plenty of guides. Besides the well-known "Climbers' Guides," the up-to-date handbook, "Swiss Mountain Climbs" (Mills and Boon), is available for those who take a practical interest in what and where to climb in the Alps.
The first point to impress upon a young would-be climber is to be content to learn the craft gradually and well. There are many accomplished guides who will undertake to drag the veriest novice up the hardest peaks.
The temptation for a youngster to be able to say "I have climbed the Meije, the Grepon, the Dent du Géant, the Matterhorn," and so on, is a great temptation, but to begin by being hauled up such peaks is not the way to learn mountaineering. To become an accomplished rock-climber is chiefly a matter of gymnastics, and does not require much intellectual endowment. To discover by inspection the way to attack a new rock peak is another matter. It is merely the actual scrambling up rocks behind a good leader that I refer to with depreciation. Snow-craft is the thing that takes most learning, and it is with snow mountains, and still more with snow-passes, that a beginner should begin. Passes are, on the whole, more illuminating expeditions than peak ascents, for a pass shows you both sides of a range, thus explaining better the anatomy of the mountains; it also takes you up one glacier and down another, and so provides a more extensive acquaintance CLIMBING A CHIMNEY, DOE CRAG. SHOWING THE BACK AND FOOT METHOD. with glacier phenomena than you gain from most peak ascents, which are frequently made by ridges without touching glaciers at all. Begin, therefore, with such peaks as the Breithorn, the Jungfrau, Monte Rosa, and Mont Blanc, with passes like the Col du Géant, the Strahleck, the Lysjoch, the Adler, and the Trift. Leave the regular rock mountains for a second or third season.
More important than anything else for a beginner is the choice of a guide. Most men make a sort of episodical commencement, picking up a casual guide (of whom they know nothing and who is very likely a fool) and attacking some peak that hap- [MOUNTAINEERING pens to attract their fancy. To such parties accidents often happen on the simplest peaks. The right way to start is to apply for advice to some experienced climber, and to hire for three weeks or a month the guide he recommends, a method which in the long run saves money. A second guide or porter can always be picked up from day to day as he is needed. A time contract with a good guide usually sets forth that he is to be paid so many francs daily for "off" days, so many francs for crossing a pass, so many for a peak. If you do a peak and two passes in a day you only pay for a peak. A very fair guide may be had for eight, twenty-five, and forty francs for these respective services, but higher prices will generally have to be paid Of course, the very difficult peaks are generally excluded from such an agreement, and the tariff has to be paid for them, only a few guides being competent for such climbs, and having almost a monopoly. When our tiro has secured a good leading guide (who, with a second guide or porter, is enough to conduct two amateurs), the next thing for him to do is to decide where he is going to climb. My advice to him is to avoid all the large climbing centres, such as Chamonix, Zermatt, Grindelwald, and Pontresina; that is to say, to avoid making them, or, indeed, any place, his headquarters. The best way to learn the mountains is to journey through long stretches of them to travel, in fact, not to be an excursionist. Take a long piece of mountain range, cross pass after pass, and climb peak after peak, up one side, down the other, changing your sleeping place from day to day. You will thus learn more about mountains in two or three seasons than a centrist learns in a dozen; you will find out what is the geography of the country, and how the mountains are related to one another; you will be brought, in interesting fashion, in contact with the natives of the district; you will have to sleep in strange places; you will meet with varied adventures, and you will avoid the fatuous stupidity found in the large hotels. The man who once acquires a taste for mountain travel will never be likely to slide back into a flâneur about centres. Perhaps the best mountain journey for a young climber to begin upon is the high level route from Chamonix to Zermatt, which he may continue eastward by way of Saas, Simplon, Binn, and SO forth, finally crossing the Oberland to Grindelwald on his homeward way. Tyrol lends itself to wandering in this fashion even better than Switzerland, for it is better provided with high level huts, many of MOUNTAINEERING] which are practically inns, where food can be bought during the climbing season.
Probably the best way to learn self-reliance upon rocks is to go chamois shooting for a season. For this sport, Tyrol again is superior to Switzerland. Variety is what the young climber should seek after, rather than difficulty, and general rather than special experience. Let him constantly refer to the map and study details of the way upon it. He will thus become able to sketch out future climbs, and invent ways for himself through country new to him.
When on any commanding point of view, let him study the panorama with the map before him, learning to identify the peaks in sight, and to know them as solid bodies in such fashion that when he sees them again from another side he may still be able to recognise them. Such a faculty, when highly trained, may often be of the greatest service, enabling a transient glimpse of some detail of ridge or glacier, caught through a break in fog or clouds, to reveal the exact situation of a puzzled party.
When once a man has thus learnt the rudiments of the climbing craft by working behind a good guide, it will be well for him, in company with two or three companions not less experienced than himself, to begin to dispense with professional assistance.
They should spend days on a glacier of moderate difficulty, cutting a way through broken ice and scrambling where fancy takes them, always, however, being careful not to attempt work that overtaxes their powers and not to hazard themselves in positions from which they are not certainly able to extricate themselves by retreat.
Such a party will soon find themselves advanced enough to repeat some mountain ascent which they have already made with guides; then to attack some new mountain, and find out the way for themselves. Their further development from this point is a matter about which little advice is needed.
Each man will follow his own bent, some taking more and more to rocks of increasing difficulty, others preferring to gain a wider experience and a better knowledge of some great mountain range for the pleasure of knowing it. Once the craft has been learnt, the pursuit of it to its most intricate developments becomes a sport one of the most attractive sports in the world, as its votaries recognise. Certain climbs may be likened to most intricate problems, which it takes the entire capacity of an able man to solve, problems soluble only by skill, courage, endurance, strength, and a very high order of intelligence. It is in the exercise of all these qualities at once that the delight of the most difficult climbing consists.
Equipment. On the best equipment for mountaineering much has been written.
The reader may be referred to a sixpenny pamphlet, published by the Alpine Club, which conveys a great deal of information on the matter. Few things are absolutely necessary. Warm underclothes, thick coat and knickerbockers, thick stockings, gaiters, or, much better, putties of the kind worn in India.
Next to the rope, the boots are the most important part of a climber's equipment.
The leather for the uppers should be of best zug or chrome, soft and absolutely waterproof. The heels should be low, and they, as well as the soles, should project fully a quarter of an inch beyond the uppers when new. The secret of successful nailing is to have the proper kind of leather for the sole, which should be stiff and tough in contradistinction to being soft, porous, and pliable. The nailing of boots is a fine art.
The nails should be driven direct without a hole being previously bored. The outside row of so-called Swiss nails, made in England, by the way, should have long fangs and be driven through the outer edge of the sole until they can be clamped over. An inner row of small nails should be driven close to the outer nails to support the foot on small foot-holds, and the rest of the sole decorated with more of these nails, the idea being kept in mind that the boot sole should rest flat, and its nails grip collectively on a smooth slab of rock. The best climbing boots are now made in England, and many Swiss guides nowadays send here for their footgear. These practical matters are fully dealt with in such a modern book as "The Complete Mountaineer."
It is well to carry an extra wrap and something wherewith to envelop the neck and ears in case of violent storm. For this purpose nothing is better than a long narrow strip of woollen material worn as a turban, which can be wound about the head in a variety of ways. On approaching inhabited places, it can be stowed away in any sack. Warm gloves should never be forgotten. For carrying purposes, nothing is better than a bag of the kind called Rucksack. The best are made of Willesden canvas, and can be bought at the best London shops for travellers, such as Silver's. The chief climbing weapons are the ice-axe and rope. The best and cheapest axes are made in the Alps.
Climbers often make a great fuss about the form of their axe; for a beginner, almost any shape is good enough. Balance is the principal matter, but it is not important.
Every experienced climber has his own fads about axes. There is only one kind of rope worth getting: Buckingham's Alpine Club rope. Thinner cords may only be used by men who know exactly what they are doing.
Climbing-irons are not made in England.
They can be bought in Austria, and will be found advertised in the publications of the German and Austrian Alpine Club. It is necessary for them to fit accurately the sole of the owner's boot. The Mummery nails, by which some supply the place of climbingirons, must be specially ordered and made. Articles that form part of the general equipment of a climbing party are numerous. prismatic compass and a field glass should by no means be omitted. The best existing RUCKSACK.
A map of the district should always be at hand.
For the Swiss Alps the Siegfried maps are best. The Italian, Austrian, and French Governments also publish guides of their various mountain groups. For Mont Blanc and the Chamonix Aiguilles the Kurz- Imfeld map is the most reliable. For the Dauphiny Alps the maps of Mons. Duhamel are almost indispensable. All these publications and those for the British districts can be obtained from Messrs. Stanford, Long Acre, London, W.C.
One of the great annoyances to climbers is sunburn. It affects a man most painfully when he first arrives amongst the snows, and especially if, on his first climb of the year, he has to spend the long hours of a sunny day on a big snow-field. Sunburn from light reflected from freshly fallen snow is particularly virulent. In any case a climber expects at the beginning of each season to have all the skin burnt off his face.
The first day it is inflamed and blistered, the next day it is tender and cracks, later it comes peeling off. The worst features of the process can be eliminated by suitable basting with grease, which should be freely applied before, during, and after the burn- [MOUNTAINEERING ing process. Toilet lanoline is the best grease for the purpose. Other medicines for climbers need not be specified. Everyone has his own fads. The best form in which to carry physic is that of concentrated tabloids-a form, by the by, in which photographic developers may be obtained. The best cure for blistering feet is to soap the stockings plentifully, to make them quite stiff with soap at the normal points of friction. The process need not be repeated after a few days.
Alpine Clubs. - In connection with mountaineering, a few words must be said about Alpine clubs. The Alpine Club is the oldest. It was founded in London in 1857-8, before the great development of mountaineering as a sport was foreseen.
It has had a career of continually increasing influence and prosperity. Its organ is the well-known Alpine Journal. All the members either are, or have been, active mountaineers, and no one can be a candidate for election who has not accomplished a number of regular mountain ascents in a series of years. The foreign Alpine clubs, whereof there is one in almost every civilised country, are not societies of climbers, but of persons who profess an interest in mountains. The membership even of the small foreign clubs is larger than that of the Alpine Club. The largest foreign club is the German and Austrian.
The Swiss and the Italian Alpine Clubs are likewise very important bodies, especially the former. The French Alpine Club has also a large number of members.
These bodies concern themselves with developing and opening up the mountains in the particular parts of the Alps which fall into the domain of each. They control large sums of money, and they have been the means of publishing a great mass of Alpine literature. Each of the foreign clubs is split up into local sections, centred in particular towns, such as the Geneva section, the Milan section, and so on. The sections raise money to build mountain huts, to make footpaths in remote places, and to facilitate in other ways the access to the hills. The Central Committee assists the sections with grants of money for such purposes; it watches over the welfare of the whole society, publishes the chief annual volume of records, and sometimes promotes scientific observations of mountain pheno- Members of these clubs have certain advantages in the districts they control and the huts they have built, so that it is an advantage to an English climber to become a member of one or two of them, especially of the Swiss and Italian clubs. There is mena.
MOUNTAINEERING] P now an English branch of the Swiss Alpine Club, and election as a member entails no difficulty.
There are now several very flourishing clubs for the encouragement of climbing and mountaineering in Britain. The Scottish Mountaineering Club controls the sport amongst the Bens of the far north.
The Fell and Rock Climbing Club of the English Lake District, with a membership of nearly 300, is a most active and enthusiastic body. Several of the big cities possess large and important clubs, notably the Rucksack Club of Manchester, and the Wayfarers' Club of Liverpool. The Yorkand glaciers traversed; but the whole organisation of a party of explorers differs and must differ from that of a party of holiday makers in proportion as their ends differ. The object of a journey of mountain exploration is not merely to make the ascent of so many peaks unclimbed before, still less is it to accomplish ascents of unusual difficulty for the sake of the achievement. That is all part of the sport of climbing, and finds its sole raison d'être in a region already well explored. Where the majority of the peaks of a range have been ascended, it becomes a legitimate aspiration to attain the summits of such other STOPPED BY A BIG SNOW-FILLED CREVASSE. PROSPECTING A SAFE ROUTE. shire Ramblers' Club adds cave exploration to its attractions, as also does the Derbyshire Pennine Club. The Climbers' Club is centred in London, where an annual dinner is held. Nearly all the above clubs publish interesting journals connected with mountaineering matters. Mountain Exploration. - Thus far we have discussed mountaineering purely from a European point of view and as a holiday sport; but, as has been stated in the historical portion of this article, the craft has taken a much wider range, and become an important agent in geographical exploration.
Mountain travel is still in its infancy.
More will be heard of it in years to come as other areas of the unknown are traversed and surveyed. The object of the mountain explorer and of the ordinary mountaineer being far from the same, their methods correspondingly differ, though the essential craft does not vary. Rope and axe are used in one part of the world as in another where steep places have to be surmounted VOL. III peaks as, by their difficulty or remoteness, have defied assault; but where all the peaks of a range are alike unclimbed and unknown, one ascent is as good as another, one summit is, as far as mere scrambling is concerned, as well worth reaching as another. The business of the mountain explorer is to bring back an account of the region he visits, as a whole. We look to him to tell us what is the character of the range, what the general type of the mountain, how the ridges run, what are the directions of the main valleys, where lie the chief elevations and depressions, what is the character of the snow covering, the nature of the glaciers, their elevation, their size, their pace of movement; whether they are in advance or in retreat, whether there are evidences of some former great extension of the glacial area: these and the like questions cannot be answered by the mere scrambler. The maximum of scrambling in a given season is accomplished by a party party with a well-furnished central base from which they start for each expedition and to Q a which they return. Exploration is not fruitful on such lines. Explorers must cover as much ground as possible, see things from many points of view, look at a range as a whole, and, if possible, observe its relation to other ranges. But to cover a large area of ground in a remote and probably little inhabited mountain region involves a great deal of organisation and foresight. You cannot blunder straight ahead and trust to luck. Everything must be planned, difficulties must be foreseen and provided against. A week's bad weather will involve the utter breakdown of happy-go-lucky expedition. Bad weather prevails in all mountain regions; to be able to hold out against it is one of the conditions of mountain exploration. In all the great ranges out of Europe, long distances intervene between the icy fastnesses of the hills and inhabited places. It follows that provisions have to be carried, sometimes sufficient to sustain the party for weeks. Horses or mules may sometimes be used for this purpose. In Tibet, sheep serve as bearers.
Generally speaking, porters must be employed. Whatever the burden-bearer, he requires to be considered, fed, and kept happy and willing to work. Where coolies only can be used for transport, the problem is complicated. Coolies may start with loads of 80 lb., but they cannot carry them far, or over very difficult ground. Normal consumption, however, quickly diminishes the weight of the average load and readjustments can be made. It is necessary to reckon 21 lb. as about the weight of a day's ration for one man. A coolie can thus start with about one month's food for himself on his own back. Half the caravan can thus carry a fortnight's food for the whole caravan. If walking mutton can be procured, the proportion may be changed. Supposing the explorers to be three in number, their food and equipment will amount to about ten loads. The problem is to carry these ten loads through the mountain region to be explored. The walking mutton, for the purposes of argument, may be set off roughly against these ten loads, and the problem comes to thishow long can a caravan exist on food carried by itself? Half the caravan will carry food for the whole for a fortnight. If at the end of a fortnight half the men can be sent back, the remainder may, as it were, make a new start, fully equipped, from the point reached in that time. The same would be true of a second fortnight, and of a third, and so on if food for the return journey of the dismissed men had not to be considered. Unloaded, and on their way home, MOUNTAINEERING they will cover daily three of the laden marches at least, and the problem may be further lightened by making caches of provisions at various stages of the upward way. With about 100 porters, as much as five or even six weeks may thus be spent between or one base and another by a well-organised party. If the return journey has to be made by the same route as the upward journey, a new set of conditions obtains.
Then it is well to take as large a caravan as possible about half-way, or for a fortnight. At this point a heavy camp is formed, and from it half the men are sent back, with orders to collect more supplies and return. The remainder may stay above this point for so long a time as their provisions hold out. Let them all now push on a few marches further, where superfluous followers can again be got rid of. From this point the explorers go ahead with a very few men, leaving behind a responsible head man to see that orders are carried out. The latter arranges the men under him as a post, and sends them up by twos, lightly laden, to keep the highest camp supplied from dav to day with necessaries.
Other posts are established higher up to hand on what these men bring. Thus, supplies may be carried over three or four marches in a single day, if the coolies are the kind of people capable of such cooperation and obedience. I found that, with Gurkhas to look after them, Balti coolies could be thus organised, but the process is one not likely to be of very general application.
This disquisition on organisation has been introduced to suggest the problems that a mountain explorer may have to face, rather than as offering any solution of universal applicability. Each region of the earth has its own difficulties, which must be met by ingenuity and resource when they arise.
Though it is always easier to go into and return from a group of high mountains by the same route, seeing that half the way is then known and may be victualled on the upward journey, this is always the least interesting and illuminating method that can be adopted, besides depriving travellers of the stimulating excitement provided by the unknown ever before them. Passes are always to be preferred by explorers to ascents. A peak may be climbed, and, if possible, should be climbed from a pass; but the ascent of no peak, with return by the same route, can be compared for geographical value to the passage of a range of mountains, up one side, down the other.
Now ordinary mountaineers care less for passes than peaks-to that extent the tradi- MOUNTAINEERING] a tions of the Alps are injurious to mountainexploration. The peak a mountainexplorer should select for ascent should, if possible, stand either on the watershed of a range or well away from it. In the former case it will permit a view over both sides of the range; in the latter it will command a panorama of the range itself. The peak chosen should be the easiest that fulfils the conditions, for time will thus be saved.
There is, in fact, nothing in which a good explorer shows his superiority over a bad one more than in the selection of points of view. Well-chosen view-points reveal so much that is hidden from other more exalted or physically attractive positions.
The side of one hill may tell you more than can be learnt from the top of another. The only certain guide to the formation of a judgment as to whither to ascend is a survey in process of being carried out. Unless the leader of an expedition is also surveyor, unless he is from day to day engaged in recording the progress of his exploration upon a map, he will not know what are the gaps in his knowledge which it is most essential he should attempt to fill. Photography is doubtless a great help to exploration, but, in mountain travel, at any rate, exposed negatives cannot be developed from day to day, still less can prints of them be carried for reference. It is only a planetable sketch survey, kept constantly up to date, that clearly shows the bounds between the known, the suspected, and the unknown.
Every mountain traveller therefore should acquire the simple art of plane-table surveying before launching forth into regions previously unvisited and unmapped. In addition to the needful survey apparatus, a mountain explorer must carry an instrument for the measurement of altitudes. Aneroid barometers are, as Mr. Whymper has shown, valueless for this purpose.
They lie beyond cure. A boiling-point thermometer is more reliable, but still not trustworthy. The only instrument that can be recommended is the mercurial barometer. a A form of mercurial barometer called the Boylean-Mariotti has given good results, and is fairly portable. Still more portable is the barometer devised by Prof. Norman Collie, in which all of the glass tube except the two ends is replaced by a tube of india-. rubber. Suitable thermometers are further necessity of the scientific equipment, besides such light collecting apparatus as may be needed to contain plants, insects, and the like. The general equipment of an exploring party is, of course, very different from that needed in ordinary mountain climbing. There exists nowhere in the world any mercantile firm that can be trusted to supply the needful apparatus, the whole of which must be light in structure and light in packing. Travellers' shops will sell very light cooking stoves, and then pack them so that the weight of the packing does away with the advertised lightness.
The intending traveller will have to wage a continual combat with all the people who want to sell equipment to him. Let him see that his tent is the smallest and lightest possible. A tent for actual use on high mountains should not weigh more than 3 or 4 lb. The cords to hold it should be no heavier than can be avoided. Ice-axes will serve for tent-poles. A very light rubber sheet, in which sleeping-bags can be wrapped on the march, should form the ground sheet. Sleeping-bags should be of best eiderdown, I kilo. of down to a bag.
If high altitudes are to be gained, clothes should be of the warmest, alike for hot or cold countries. Photographic materials should be so packed that they can be taken out of their packing and transferred to the camera in the cramped area of a tiny tent and by fingers blue with cold. They should be easy to repack in the papers and boxes they came in, and they should be finally enclosed and kept in air-tight, self-opening tins, that require no cutting open and no soldering up. Every opportunity should be taken (they will be few enough) to develop specimen negatives for information as to the condition of the cameras, the quality of the light and its actinic power at high altitudes, and so forth. For this purpose, it is well to make two duplicate exposures at the beginning of every spool of film, so that the first may be developed and thrown away if it cannot be fixed and dried. Glass plates or cut films are pleasanter things to handle than spools of film, but the weight and cumbersomeness of double-backs (when as many as thirty exposures may be needed 111 a day) render them unsuitable for mountain-explorers.
Now that so many mountaineers are capable of climbing without professional assistance, it might seem that an Alpine guide need not be taken to other parts of the world by an exploring party. Nothing, however, is more certain to my mind than that, if the leader of a party of explorers has to do the guiding, to cut all the steps and concentrate his attention on the details of the way, he will bring back very insignificant results and insufficient observations. It is essential that the man who is par excellence the geographical explorer of the party should be in command of the party, and should be its official leader. Such an officer Q. 2 must have his mind and attention free for general observations. Someone else must be looking after details, and must undertake the labour of actually hewing out the way.
The observer must not be burdened with a load to carry, or steps to cut. It follows that the guide must be a different man. He may be a skilful amateur or he may be a paid Alpine expert. If the skilled amateur can be found, by all means let him be preferred. Such professionals as Mathias Zurbriggen (my guide in the Himalayas, Fitzgerald's guide in New Zealand and the Andes) will always be exceptional. Alpine guides are seldom good travellers. They become home-sick; they cry aloud for red wine and Swiss cheese; they hanker after the guides' room and the luxuries of big Alpine centres. Mountaineering centrism and the high tariffs of fashionable peaks have spoiled them. They are not likely to be rehabilitated in the esteem of travellers.
A skilful amateur is in all respects superior to them. He is more willing to launch forth into the utterly unknown; he understands better the interest and relative importance of the work in hand. He will not be always bringing Swiss standards to bear on, for instance, Asiatic peaks. A party for mountain exploration would be ideally constituted if it consisted of a leader, who should be the surveyor, geographer, photographer, and general organiser; an amateur guide, who might also be geologist; and a third man, who should be a naturalist and collector. Such a party, with the needful local following, may go anywhere.
W. MARTIN CONWAY.
GEORGE D. ABRAHAM. a [The illustrations are supplied by Messrs.
G. P. Abraham and Sons, Keswick, Signor Guido Rey, and Dr. J. H. Wigner.] GLOSSARY OF MOUNTAINEERING TERMS.
Aiguille. A pinnacle of rock, so called from its generally sharply pointed outlines. one Alp. The word in Swiss denotes a summer, or mountain, pasture, and not the mountain itself.
Anchorage.-A safe position where one climber can, if necessary, support the weight of the next man by holding the rope. (See illustration.) Alpenstock.-A spiked staff used in mountaineering. It should be of ash, and of length and thickness suitable to the height and weight of its owner. It is, however, now generally displaced by the ice-axe.
Arête. The ridge of a mountain.
Avalanche. - A mass of ice, snow, or stones falling from higher parts of the mountains, generally owing to thawing. The word is generally understood to mean snow only. Axe. An instrument principally for cutting steps in ice or hard snow, comprising both axe [MOUNTAINEERING and pick. The length should not be more than about 45 inches.
Bergschrund. The highest crevasse (q.v.) which separates the snow-field from the mountain.
Backing-up. The method of ascending chimneys by placing the back on one side and the feet on the other. (See illustration.) Belaying-pin, Belay. An outstanding knob of rock round which the rope can be held. (See illustration.) &c.
Brèche. A narrow gap in a summit ridge.
Cairn.-A heap of stones made for landmarks,