Table of Contents

 

 

 

SKI-RUNS IN THE HIGH ALPS

 

 

SKI-ING FOR BEGINNERS
AND MOUNTAINEERS

By W. RICKMER RICKMERS

Opinions of the Press

“A fascinating book on the most delightful of Continental winter sports. Not only is Mr. Rickmers a strenuous and accomplished ski-runner himself, but he has had years of experience as a teacher of the art, and his handy volume embodies everything that it is essential for the novice to know in order to become an efficient ski-runner in as short a time as possible”—T. P.’s Weekly.

“He is a teacher of vast experience, who has studied every defect in style that a beginner can possibly fall into, and has learned how to cure them all. If the novice with the aid of this book studies his every posture and action, practising the right and with pains correcting what he learns is wrong, he is on the high road to becoming a first-class runner.”—Scottish Ski Club Magazine.

“Mr Rickmers has written a lucid book which, as regards ski-ing, is cyclopædically exhaustive.”—Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News.

“This book will be a great boon to those wishing to learn the art of ski-ing. The illustrations are excellent and most carefully chosen—in fact, the whole book from beginning to end is full of useful knowledge, and is most interestingly written. It will be enjoyed not only by the initiate, but by the experienced ski-runner.”—Pall Mall Gazette.

 

anboco.jpg

SUNSET, FROM MONT DURAND GLACIER.

 

SKI-RUNS IN THE
HIGH ALPS

BY
F. F. ROGET, S.A.C.

HONORARY MEMBER OF THE ALPINE SKI CLUB
HONORARY MEMBER OF THE ASSOCIATION OF
BRITISH MEMBERS OF THE SWISS ALPINE CLUB

WITH 25 ILLUSTRATIONS BY
L. M. CRISP
AND 6 MAPS

T. FISHER UNWIN
LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE
LEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20
1913

 

(All rights reserved.)

 

Skiers, a mountain sunset

TO
MY DAUGHTER
ISMAY
HOPING SHE MAY NOT GO FORTH
AND DO LIKEWISE

 

Decorative heading: the word PREFACE superimposed on a drawing of skiers making their way across a mountain landscape

PREFACE

In 1905, when nearer fifty than forty, had I not been the happy father of a girl of seven I should have had no occasion to write this book. I bought, for her to play with, a pair of small ski in deal, which I remember cost nine francs. For myself I bought a rough pair, on which to fetch and bring her back to shore if the small ship foundered.

No sooner had I equipped myself, standing, as a Newfoundland dog, on the brink of the waves, ready to rescue a child from snow peril, than I was born again into a ski-runner.

Since, I have devoted some of my spare time to revisiting—in winter—the passes and peaks of Switzerland.

The bringing of the ski to Switzerland ushered in the “New Mountaineering,” of which a few specimens seek in these pages the favour of the general public.

 

The reader may notice that I never spell “ski” with an s in the plural, because it is quite unnecessary. One may stand on one ski, and one may stand on both ski. The s adds nothing to intelligibility.

Nor do I ever pronounce ski otherwise than I write it. There is in ski the k that appears in skipper and in skiff. Though cultured Germans say Schiff and Schiffer, the k sound of ski is quite good Norse. It has been preserved in the French esquif, of same origin.

The i should be pronounced long as in “tree.”

So let us always say s-k-ee and write ski for both numbers.

Saas-Fee.
August 14, 1912.

Drawing of a skier

 

CONTENTS

 

PAGE

CHAPTER I

SKI-RUNNING IN THE HIGH ALPS

17

The different ski-ing zones—Their characteristics and dangers—The glaciers as ski-ing grounds—The ski-running season—Inverted temperature—The conformation of winter snow—Precautionary measures—Glacier weather—Rock conditions—Weather reports—Guides and porters.

 

CHAPTER II

WITH SKI TO THE DIABLERETS

34

First Ascent—The Bear inn at Gsteig—The young Martis—Superstitions—The rights of guides.
Second Ascent—The composition of the caravan—Odd symptoms—Winter amusements on the glacier—A broken ankle—The salvage operations—On accidents—My juvenile experience—A broken limb on the Jaman.
Third Ascent—The Marti family—The Synagogue once more—An old porter—We are off.

 

CHAPTER III

FROM THE COL DU PILLON TO THE GEMMI PASS (DIABLERETS, WILDHORN, WILDSTRUBEL, AND KANDERSTEG)

59

The range—Ski-runners’ logic—Itinerary—The Plan des Roses—Untoward experiences on the Rawyl pass—Death through exposure—The Daily Mail and Mr. Arnold Lunn’s feat—House-breaking—On the Gemmi—Perspective and levels—Relief models of the Alps—My smoking den—Old Egger.

 

CHAPTER IV

THE SKI-RUNNER OF VERMALA

83

Vermala—The mysterious runner—The Plain of the Dead—Popular beliefs—The purification of the grazings—A haunted piece of rock—An awful noose is thrown over the country-side—Supernatural lights and events—The Babel of tongues—The Saillon and Brigue testimonies—The curé of Lens and his sundial—The people’s cure—The Strubel—Chauffage central—Did I meet the Ski-runner of Vermala?—My third ascent of the Wildstrubel—A night encampment on the glacier—Meditations on mountains, mountaineers, and the Swiss—How to make café noir—Where to sleep and when not to—Alpine refuges—The old huts and the new—The English Alpinists and the Swiss huts—The Britannia hut.

 

CHAPTER V

THE BERNESE OBERLAND FROM END TO END

113

The Oberland circuit—My appointment with Arnold Lunn—An Anglo-Swiss piece of work—An unbelieving public—Switzerland and Britain—Geographical—Practical—We start from Beatenberg—The Jungfrau ice-slabs—New Year’s Day at Kandersteg—In the Gasterenthal—On the Tschingelfirn—Foehn-effects on the Petersgrat—The Telli glacier—The Kippel bottle-race—A church door—Theodore Kalbermatten—The Loetschen pass—Burnt socks—Roped ski-ing—The Concordia breakfast-table—Why we did not ascend the Jungfrau—The Concordia huts—The Grünhornlücke—On snow “lips” and cornices—An afternoon snooze—The Finsteraarhorn hut—A guideless party—Ascent of the Finsteraarhorn—Our next pass—A stranded runner—The Grimsel—Home life at Guttannen—Our sleigh ran to Meiringen—A comparison of winter and summer work—Memories and visions—Table of levels—How to form a caravan—The pay of the men—Side-slip and back-slip—Future railway facilities.

 

CHAPTER VI

THE AIGUILLE DU CHARDONNET AND THE AIGUILLE DU TOUR

181

The aspect of the Grand Combin—Topography—Weather conditions for a successful raid—A classification of peaks—The Orny nivometer—The small snowfall of the High Alps—The shrinkage of snow—Its insufficiency to feed the glaciers—The Aiguille du Tour—Ascent of Aiguille du Chardonnet—The St. Bernard hospice—Helplessness of the dogs—The narrow winter path—The monks’ hospitality—Their ski—The accident on the Col de Fenêtre—Ce n’est pas le ski.

CHAPTER VII

THE GRAND COMBIN

197

The Panossière hut—Tropical winter heat—Schoolboys and the Matterhorn—Shall it be rock or snow?—The Combin de Valsorey—My third ascent of the Grand Combin—The track home—Col des Avolions—Natural highways of a new character—Twenty-three thousand feet ascended on ski.

 

CHAPTER VIII

ACROSS THE PENNINE ALPS ON SKI BY THE “HIGH-LEVEL” ROUTE

206

The “high-level” route—Previous attempts—My itinerary—Marcel Kurz—The wise old men of Bourg St. Pierre—Maurice Crettex—Guides with bamboos and laupars!—The snow-clad cliffs of Sonadon—The Chanrion hut—Sealed-up crevasses—The nameless pass—Louis Theytaz—The Pigne d’Arolla—The Bertol hut—Why the Dent Blanche could be ascended—The lady’s maid’s easy job—The dreadful summer slabs—We push past two “constables”!—My cane—We bash in her ladyship’s white bonnet—The Ice-Maid presses gently my finger-tips—The cornice crashes down—A second night in the Bertol hut—The Col d’Hérens—An impending tragedy—A milk-pail versus ski—Dr. Koenig and Captain Meade—The real tragedy of Theytaz’s death—Ropes and crevasses—Mr. Moore’s account—My comments—The Mischabel range and Monte Rosa.

 

CHAPTER IX

THE PIZ BERNINA SKI CIRCUIT IN ONE DAY

245

Old snow well padded with new—Christmas Eve in the Bernina hospice—The alarum rings—Misgivings before battle—Crampons and sealskins—A causeway of snow—An outraged glacier—The Disgrazia—A chess-player and a ski-man—Unroped!—In the twilight—The Tschierva hut—Back to Pontresina—Hotel limpets—Waiting for imitators.

 

CHAPTER X

FROM AROSA TO BELLINZONA OVER THE BERNARDINO PASS

256

The Arosa Information Bureau—The hospitality of sanatorium guests—The allurements of loneliness—Whither the spirit leads—Avalanche weather—The Spring god and King Frost—The source of the Rhine—The post sleigh in a winter storm—The Bernardino pass—Brissago.

 

CHAPTER XI

GLACIERS—AVALANCHES—MILITARY SKI-ING

264

A legacy from the past—The formation of glaciers and atmospheric conditions—Forests and glaciers—Our deficient knowledge—The upper ice and snow reservoirs—What is the annual snowfall and what becomes of it—How glaciers may be classed—Mechanical forces at work—Moraines and séracs—Avalanches—Periodic avalanches—Accidental avalanches—The general causes—The statics of snow—What happens to winter snow—Strata—How steep slopes may be classed—Excusable ignorance of strangers to the Alps—Those who write glibly in home magazines—Unsafe slopes—Avalanches when running across slopes—The probing-stick—Avalanche runs—Military ski-ing—The St. Gothard and St. Maurice districts—Military raids in the High Alps—The glaciers as military highways—Riflemen on foot as against marksmen on ski.

 

CHAPTER XII

THE MECHANICS OF SKI-BINDINGS

282

The shoe—The original bindings—The modern bindings—The foot—The hinge in the foot—Different functions of the toe-strap and heel-band—The parts of the binding—Faulty fasteners—Sketches of faulty and correct leverage—A schematic binding—Critique of bindings in use—Suggestions—Cheeks and plates—A whole blade—Cause of strained feet—Steel wire in bindings.

 

CHAPTER XIII

RUDIMENTS OF WINTER MOUNTAINEERING FOR SKI-RUNNERS

294

The new “Alpinism”—A re-statement of elementary principles—Ski-runners versus summer pedestrians—The experiences of an eminent physician—How to walk in snow—Put not your trust in sticks—Keep your rope dry—Stand up on your feet—Ski-sticks as supports—Winter clothing.

 

CHAPTER XIV

WINTER STATIONS—WINTER SPORTS—HOW TO USE SKI

300

The awakening of the English—Switzerland the ice and snow rink of Europe—The high winter stations and the low—Principal sporting centres—Insular delusions—The Continental network of winter sport associations—Winter sports on ice—Tobogganing—The winter climate varies with the altitude—A classification of sporting centres according to altitude—The ski-runner is monarch of the Alps—How to keep one’s ski in good order—How to learn the gentle art of running on ski—Precepts and practice—The turns, breaks, and swings—Point final.

 

Drawing of three skiers ski-running

 

 

ILLUSTRATIONS

SUNSET, FROM MONT DURAND GLACIER

Frontispiece

 

FACE PAGE

THE WILDSTRUBEL HUT

21

OBERGABELHORN, FROM THE DENT BLANCHE

29

SPORT ON THE ZAN FLEURON GLACIER

42

FROM THE DENT BLANCHE, LOOKING WEST

50

MOVING FROM THE TOP OF THE FINSTERAARHORN

60

DESCENT INTO THE TELLITHAL, LOETSCHENTHAL

70

ON THE TOP OF THE FINSTERAARHORN

80

ABOVE RIED, LOETSCHENTHAL

90

WILDSTRUBEL AND PLAINE MORTE GLACIER

100

KANDER GLACIER

123

GASTERNTHAL

130

CONCORDIA PLATZ

149

BREAKFAST ON THE FINSTERAARHORN

163

ADOLF ON THE FINSTERAARHORN ARÊTE

178

THE VALSOREY GLEN

190

THE SONADON CLIFFS

214

ON THE DENT BLANCHE, WITH MATTERHORN

230

TOP OF DENT BLANCHE

234

ON THE STOCKJÉ, LOOKING EAST

238

FOOT OF STOCKJÉ, LOOKING EAST

243

UPPER SCERSCEN AND ROSEG GLACIERS

253

THE SONADON GLACIER

266

AT THE FOOT OF THE COL D’HÉRENS

279

THE BRITANNIA HUT

302

MAPS.

DIABLERETS—WILDHORN—WILDSTRUBEL—GEMMI PASS

64

KANDERSTEG—FINSTERAARHORN—GRIMSEL

114

FERRET—ENTREMONT—BAGNES

182

THE PENNINE RANGE FROM GRAND ST. BERNARD TO ZERMATT

208

MISCHABEL RANGE AND MONTE ROSA

240

PIZ BERNINA CIRCUIT

248

Drawing of a skier braking

 

Ski-Runs in the High Alps

 

CHAPTER I
SKI-RUNNING IN THE HIGH ALPS

The different ski-ing zones—Their characteristics and dangers—The glaciers as ski-ing grounds—The ski-running season—Inverted temperature—The conformation of winter snow—Precautionary measures—Glacier weather—Rock conditions—Weather reports—Guides and porters.

 

 

Little more than ten years have elapsed since men with a knowledge of summer mountaineering began to explore the Alps in winter. Not only are the successes, which have almost invariably attended the winter exploration of the Swiss ice-fields, full of instruction for the novice, but also the accidents and misfortunes which, sad to say, ended in loss of life or limb, have conveyed useful lessons.

In this chapter the writer has nothing in view but to be practical and pointed. His remarks must be taken to apply exclusively to the Alps. He has no knowledge of any other ski-ing field, and is conversant with no other experience but that gained in the Alps by himself and members of the Swiss ski-ing clubs, which count in their membership thousands of devotees.

It is necessary to distinguish the zones of meadow land and cultivated fields, forest land, cattle grazings, and rocks.

In the forest zone the snow presents no danger except, perhaps, in sharply inclined clearings where its solidity is not sufficiently assured either by the nature of the underlying ground or by the presence of trees growing closely together at the foot of the incline.

Above the forest belt the zone of pastures is a favourite ski-ing ground. This zone is wind-swept, sunburnt during the day, and under severe frost at night. As a general rule, it may be laid down that snow accumulated in winter on the grazings frequented by cows in summer affords a safe and reliable ski-ing ground, at any rate in all parts where the cows are in the habit of standing. When in doubt, the ski-runner should ask himself: Are cows, as I know them, likely to feel comfortable when standing on this slope in summer? If an affirmative answer can be given in a bona-fide manner, the slope is not dangerous.

Alpine grazing lands being selected for the convenience of cows, they are almost throughout well adapted to ski-runners. It is, of course, understood that gorges, ravines, and steep declivities will be avoided by Swiss cows just as much as by those of any other nationality. The ski-runner should leave those parts of the grazing alone on which a herd would not be allowed to roam by its shepherds.

The deepest and heaviest Alpine snows lie on the grazings, and the avalanches that occur there in spring are of the heaviest type and cover the most extensive areas. These are spring avalanches. They are regular phenomena, and it is totally unnecessary to expect them in midwinter.

Above the grazings begin the rocks. They are either towering rocks and walls, or else they lie broken up on slopes in varying sizes. In the latter case the snow that may cover them is quite safe, provided the points of those rocks be properly buried. As a rule, wherever there is a belt or wall of solid rock above a grazing (which is practically the case in every instance when it is not a wood), the loose stones at the foot of the rocks give complete solidity to the snow surface resting on them. The danger arises from the rocks towering aloft. If these are plastered over with loose snow, the snow may come down at any moment on the lower ground. One should not venture under such rocks till the snow that may have gathered in the couloirs has come down or is melted away.

Avalanches are a matter belonging more particularly to snow conditions in the grazing areas, but they need not to any degree be looked upon as characteristic of this area. Their cause has to be sought in the weather, that is in the rise and fall of the temperature, and in the wind. There is quite a number of slopes at varying angles, where it is impossible that the snow surface should be well balanced under all weather conditions, and these are the slopes where mishaps do occur. The easiest method to avoid accidents is to keep on obviously safe ground, and it is also on such ground that the best and most steady running can be got.

The glaciers of Switzerland are a magnificent and absolutely unrivalled ski-ing ground.

The months appointed by natural circumstances for ski-running in the High Alps are the months of January and February. This period may quite well be taken to include the whole month of March and the last days in December.

There are reasons for excluding the first three weeks in December, and the last three in April.

In night temperature, but in night temperature only, the passing from summer to winter, upwards of 9,000 feet may indeed be said to have fully taken place long before the end of the year. This passage is marked by the regular freezing at night of all moisture, and by the regular freezing over of all surfaces on which moisture is deposited by day. Still, the first fall of a general layer of snow, which will last throughout the winter on the high levels, may be much delayed. Till that first layer has covered the high ground, the ski-runner’s winter has not begun.

anboco1.jpg

THE WILDSTRUBEL HUT.

To face p. 21.

The first general snowfall, if it mark the beginning of the ski-runner’s winter, does not yet mark the setting in of the ski-running season. For a time, which may extend from November to near the end of December, moisture proceeding from the atmosphere, that is rain and vapours (warm, damp winds), is not without effect at the altitudes which we are considering. Such a damp condition of the air and any risk of rain are quite inconsistent with ski-running. But everybody should know that if such risks must be taken throughout the winter by a ski-runner residing, for instance, at the altitude of Grindelwald, they may practically be neglected by a sportsman whose field of exercise is that to which the Swiss Alpine Club huts afford access.

There, from Christmas to early Easter, the only atmospheric obstacle consists of snowstorms, in which the wind alone is an enemy, while the snow entails an improvement in the conditions of sport each time it falls. The November and December snowfalls prepare the ground for running, and running at those heights is neither safe nor perfect as long as the process goes on. In January and February any snowfall simply improves the floor or keeps up its good condition. It may be taken that during these months the atmosphere is absolutely dry from Tyrol to Mont Blanc above 8,000 feet, and that a so-called wet wind will convey only dry snow. Any moisture or water one may detect will be caused by the heat of the sun melting the ice or the snow. It is a drying, not a wetting, process; it leaves the rocks facing south, south-east, and south-west beautifully dry, and completely clears them, by rapid evaporation, of the early winter snows or of any casual midwinter fall accompanying a storm of wind.

 

Such are the atmospheric reasons which help to determine the proper ski-running months in the High Alps.

There are others which are still of a meteorological description, but which are connected mainly with the temperature. We shall begin by giving our thought a paradoxical expression as follows: it is a mistake to talk of winter at all in connection with the High Alps. According to the time of year, the weather in the Alps is subjected to general rain conditions or to general snow conditions. Under snow conditions the thermometer falls under zero Centigrade, and the temperature of the air may range from zero to a very low reading; but the sun is extremely powerful, its force is intensified by the reflection from the snow surface. The temperature of the air in the shade is therefore no clue to the temperature of material surfaces exposed to the rays of the sun. The human frame, under suitable conditions of clothing and exercise, feels, and actually is, quite warm in the sun, a violent wind being required to approximate the subjective sensations of the body to those usually associated with a cold, damp, and biting winter’s day.

This is a general characteristic of the Alpine winter, to which must be added an occasional, though perfectly regular, feature, namely, that the Alps may offer, and do offer every winter, instances of inverted temperature. This name is given to periods which may extend over several days at a stretch, and which are repeated several times during the winter months. These are periods during which the constant temperature of the air—that is, the average temperature by night and by day in the shade—is higher upon the heights than in the plains and valleys.

As a general principle, the winter sportsman may be sure that in the proportion in which he rises he also leaves behind him the winter conditions, as defined, in keeping with their own notions and experience by the dwellers on plains, on the seaside, or in valleys. When travelling upwards he reaches a dry air, a hot and bright light, and maybe a higher temperature than prevails in the lower regions of the earth which lie at his feet.

We said a little while ago that in January and February any snowfall improves the floor. In the preceding months the high regions pass gradually from the condition in which they are practicable on foot to those under which they are properly accessible to the ski-runner only. Time must be allowed for the process, and till it is completed ski-running is premature and consequently distinctly dangerous. The Alpine huts should not be used as ski-ing centres before they can be reached on ski, and one should not endeavour to reach them in that manner as long as stones are visible among the snow.

The distinctive feature of the ski-runner’s floor is that it is free from stones and from holes. The stones should be well buried under several feet of snow, and the holes filled up with compressed or frozen snow before the ski-runner makes bold to sally forth, but when they are he may practically go anywhere and dare anything so far as the ground is concerned, provided he is an expert runner and a connoisseur in the matter of avalanches. Of course, our “anywhere” applies to ski-ing grounds only, and our “anything” means mountaineering as restricted to the uses to which ski may fairly be put.

The floor of the ski-runner is a dimpled surface consisting of an endless variety of planes and curves. It is a geometrical surface upon which the ski move like instruments of mensuration that are from two to three yards long. Snowfalls and the winds determine the geometrical character of the field upon which the long rulers are to glide. This, the only true notion of the ski-ing field, means that the detail of the ground has disappeared. It presents a continuity of differently inclined, bent, edged, or curved surfaces, all uniformly geometric in the construction of each. Any attempt at ski-running upon this playground before its engineers and levellers (which are snow and wind) have achieved their work in point of depth, solidity, and extent, is unsporting and perilous.

The continuous figure or design presented by the upper snow-fields of the Alps in January, from end to end of the chain, is broken by prismatic masses, such as cones, pyramids, and peaks, on the sides of which the laws of gravity forbid the establishment by the concourse of natural forces of snow-surfaces accessible with ski. The runner who has been borne by his ski to the foot of those rock masses—such, for instance, as the top of Monte Rosa as it rises from the Sattel—will continue his ascent as a rock-climber. He will probably find the state of the rocks quite as propitious as in summer, and often considerably better.

 

To sum up, the characteristics of the ski-running season are: stability of weather, constant dryness of the air, a uniform and continuous running surface, windlessness, a constant body temperature from sunrise to sunset, at times a relatively high air temperature, solar light and solar heat, which must not be confused with air temperature and present an intensity, a duration most surprising to the dweller in plains and on the seaboard; last, but not least, accessibility of the rocky peaks with climbing slopes turned to the sun.

A real trouble is the crevasses. The ice-fields form such wide avenues between the peaks bordering them that a ski-runner must be quite a fool if an avalanche finds him within striking distance. But the crevasses are quite another matter. In summer the protection against falling into crevasses is the rope and careful steering between them. In winter mountaineering the ski, properly speaking, take the place of the rope. The longest traverses in the Alps have been performed by unroped ski-runners. At the same time, the usefulness of the rope, in case of an accident actually occurring, cannot be gainsaid, though it cannot be maintained that the rope, which has been known to cause certain accidents in summer, may be called absolutely free from any such liability in winter. Of the use of the rope we therefore say, “Adhuc sub judice lis est.”

There are two golden rules for avoiding a drop into a crevasse: firstly, keep off glaciers or of those parts of any glacier where crevasses are known to be numerous, deep, long, and wide; secondly, if called upon to run over a glacier that is crevassed, use the rope, but use it properly—that is, bring its full length into use, take off your ski, and proceed exactly as you would do in summer by sounding the snow and crossing bridged crevasses one after another. It is absurd to mix summer and winter craft; they are distinct. When the rope is used under winter conditions, let it be exactly according to the best winter practice.

If going uphill you find yourself landed on ice, take off your ski and gain a footing on the ice by means of the heavy nails on your boots. Never attempt glacier work with unnailed boots or short, light bamboo sticks. If any accident happens suddenly to your ski you are helpless and hopeless without nails; you probably will not have time to take your climbing irons off your rucksack and bind them on to your feet.

Accidents to ski generally happen when one is on the move on difficult and dangerous ground. It is absurd to expect that the difficulty or danger will abate while you take off your rucksack, sit down, and strap on your climbing irons. Remember that you are on the move and that your impetus will carry you on, if not immediately checked by nails gripping the ice. That, too, is the reason why a short, light bamboo will not do; it is a fine-weather weapon and quite the thing on easy snows. On rough ground you want something with a substantial iron point, a weapon of some weight and strength which can support your body and help in seeing you home should your ski be injured. A good runner would never put his stick to unfair uses, such as riding and leaning back.

 

If on going downhill you find yourself landed on ice, the essential thing is to be able to keep on your feet first, to your course next. A stout stick with a sharp point will then be sorely needed, and if you have been careful to fasten on to your ski-blades an appliance against skidding or side-slip, you will find it much easier to steer and keep to your course. On the whole, it is wiser on iced surfaces which are steep—and these are generally not extensive—to carry one’s ski.

There ought to be an ice-axe in the party, but this ice-axe should be carried by a professional and used by him. Nobody can cut steps or carry safely an ice-axe without some apprenticeship, and this it is impossible to go through in severe winter weather.

The principal glacier routes of Switzerland have been proved over and over again to be free from any particular risk or danger arising from winter conditions. The ratio of risk is the same as in summer. Consequently, select the best known routes, which are also the most beautiful and ski-able. Take with you, as porters and servants rather than guides, men who have frequently gone over those routes in winter with some Swiss runner of experience. This is important, because many guides, particularly the most approved summer guides, are creatures of routine, and will take you quite obdurately along the summer routes, step for step and inch after inch. Now, this is wrong and may lead to danger. The ski-runner must dominate the snow slopes. His place is on the brow, or rather on the coping, not at the foot of the slopes along which the summer parties generally crawl.

When going uphill for several hours consecutively, as it is necessary to do in order to reach the Alpine huts, an artificial aid against slipping back is indispensable. When going uphill the ski support the weight of the runner and keep his feet on, or above, the snow. But they do not distinguish between regressive and progressive locomotion. The whole of the work of progression falls upon the human machinery. Under those conditions the strain put on the muscles by continuous or repeated backsliding is objectionable. The use of a mechanical contrivance is made imperative by the steepness of the slopes and their great length.

Another point is that when running downhill, say, from the Monte-Rosa Sattel to the Bétemps hut, it is never advisable to pick out the shortest and quickest route, which means the steepest run possible. High Alp ski-running demands the choice of the longest course consistent with steady progress and with an unbroken career along a safe line of advance. The watchword of the good runner will always be—at those heights and distances where so much that is ahead must remain problematical—move onward on curves, so as to approach any obstacle by means of a bend, admitting of an inspection of the obstacle, if it is above the surface, before you are upon it, and which, if it is the running surface which presents a break, even a concealed one, will prevent your hurling yourself headlong into the trap.

anboco2.jpg

OBERGABELHORN, FROM DENT BLANCHE.

To face p. 29.

 

The influence of wintry weather upon exposed and lofty rock pinnacles is practically the same as that of summer weather, but still more so, if such a paradoxical way of expressing oneself can be made clear. At the height of 10,000 feet above the sea-level and upwards the winter weather is glacier weather. This is not the weather that prevails in the depth of the Swiss valleys or on the Swiss tableland. The snowfall upon the glaciers is not so great as one might expect. The snow that does fall there is dry, light, powdery, and wind-driven. Those characteristics are such that only some slight proportion of the snow driven across the glacier actually remains there. Most of it is carried along and accumulates wherever it can settle down—that is, elsewhere than on wind-swept surfaces.

The winter sun is so powerful that it very soon clears the high ridges from a kind of snow that is in itself little suited to adhere to their steep, rocky sides. Therefore the position is as follows: the ski-runner can gain access to the peaks with great ease. The so-called Bergschrunde, in French rimaie, are closed up, and the rocks towering above are practically just as climbable as in summer, with the help of the same implements too—rope, ice-axe, and if one likes, climbing-irons.

The start is made much later in the morning, but, on the other hand, one need not be over-anxious as to getting to one’s night quarters by sunset. Running on ski at night over a course that has been travelled over in the morning, and therefore perfectly recognisable and familiar, is, in clear weather, as pleasant as it is easy. That is why the ascent of a rocky peak is, to my mind, an object which a ski-runner who does not take a one-sided view of sport will gladly keep in view.

The risk of frost-bite may be greater than in summer, in so far as the temperature of the air is much lower. But the air being, as a rule, extremely dry and the heat of the sun intense, the full benefit of this extraordinary dryness and of this heat really puts frost-bite out of the question in fine weather, provided rocks are attacked from the southern or south-west aspect, or even south-east. It is quite easy to wear thick gloves and to put one’s feet away in thick and warm woollen material. But no attempt whatever should be made at rock climbing under dull skies, let alone when the weather is actually bad. It must also be added that bad health, exhaustion, indigestion, nervousness, and such like are, of all things, the most conducive to frost-bite.

The thermometer may mark in January, above the tree-line, and still more among rocks, as much as 40 degrees Centigrade at midday in the sun. This is not the air temperature, as in the shade the same thermometer will soon drop to zero Centigrade or less. But anybody who has experienced the wonderful glow of those winter suns on the highest peaks of Switzerland will be careful that he does not bring them into disrepute by visiting them when he himself is not fit or when they are out of humour. In any case, people who go about on ski with feet and hands insufficiently clad may well be expected to take the consequences.

 

The foregoing lines bring us quite naturally to consideration of the weather. The first principle to be borne in mind is that weather in the High Alps is quite distinct from weather anywhere else. The only authentic information at any time about the impending weather in the Alpine area is that given day by day by the Swiss Central Meteorological Office in Zürich. This report, and accompanying forecast, is published in all the important daily papers, such as the Journal de Genève, the Gazette de Lausanne, the Bund, &c. The figures are of less importance than the notes on wind, air-pressure, and the description in ordinary language which comments upon the more scientific data. Those reports should be consulted, and should be posted up by every hotel keeper.

Weather is not uniform throughout Switzerland. The driest area runs along the backbone of the Alps from the lake of Geneva to the lake of Constance, along the Canton du Valais and the Canton des Grisons. Chances of steady, fine weather are consequently greater in those valleys than elsewhere. The driest spot in Switzerland is Sierre. The High Alps, which are of most interest to the ski-runner, are also the part of Switzerland which presents the largest proportion of fine sunny days in the winter months.

The tableland, extending from the lake of Geneva to Bâle and Constance along the Rhine, and bounded on the south-east by the lakes of Thoune and Brienz, Lucerne, and the Wallensee, may remain for weeks together under a sea of fog, resting at the height of about a thousand feet above the surface of the ground. As long as those fog areas, which are generally damp and cold, are curtained from the rays of the sun, the canopy of fog acts as a huge reflector for the sun rays which impinge upon it from above. Provided there is no wind (and the Alps may be windless for days and weeks at a time) the rays, reflected back into space from the fog surface, heat very considerably the layers of air above, while the air imprisoned below remains cold. The winter snows themselves, by a similar process of reflection, generate a great deal of heat of the kind which a human body perceives, and in which the mountaineer is fond of basking.

The long Jura range, extending from the lake of Geneva to Bâle along the French border, shares in the Alpine climate, though in a somewhat rougher form.

The conclusion is that in Switzerland the weather conditions, to mention these alone, are extremely favourable to the ski-runner. In the matter of space at his disposal there are in Switzerland, on the slopes of either the Alps or the Jura, generally above the forest belt, three thousand grazings for cattle, every one of which is a ski-ing area. Only a very small number have hitherto been frequented by the ski-runner. Yet last winter three thousand pairs of ski were sold by one firm alone, and it is reckoned that the number fitted and sold last winter (1911-12) in Switzerland exceeds forty thousand.

Swiss guides hitherto have been trained and engaged only for summer work. Consequently their efficiency on ski is in every instance a personal acquirement, and their knowledge of their duties under winter conditions is simply consequent upon their summer training or derived from their own native knowledge of winter conditions, without the addition of any instruction. If one wishes to engage guides for winter work the best guarantee is that the guide belong to a local ski club, and should have attended, if possible, one or several ski courses before he is considered fit to accompany amateur ski-ing parties.

Another point is that guides in winter must be prepared to act as porters. It is in the nature of running on ski that the runner will hardly ever find himself in a position to call for individual assistance, and the routes he will frequent are of necessity routes which, from the mountaineering point of view, are easy and not suited to give great prominence to the qualities of a guide in the strict and recognised meaning of the term. What the amateur ski-runner particularly wants is a hardy and willing companion who will carry the victuals for him and is wise enough to employ his influence in turning the ski-runner away from any dangerous ground, and to pick out the best and safest lines across country. Guides holding a diploma should not be paid more for winter work than they are allowed to claim in summer under the established rates of payment.

 

 

CHAPTER II
WITH SKI TO THE DIABLERETS

First Ascent.—The Bear inn at Gsteig—The young Martis—Superstitions—The rights of guides.

Second Ascent.—The composition of the caravan—Odd symptoms—Winter amusements on the glacier—A broken ankle—The salvage operations—On accidents—My juvenile experience—A broken limb on the Jaman.

Third Ascent.—The Marti family—The Synagogue once more—An old porter—We are off.

 

 

1. In the month of January, 19—, at a time when the ascent of the Diablerets had not yet been attempted on ski, I marched early in the day out of the slumbering Bahnhof hotel at Gstaad, with a full rucksack on my back and rattled through the village on my ski along the ice-bound main street.

The sun had not yet risen when I knocked at the door of the Bear hotel at Gsteig and presented to the frowsy servant who appeared on the doorstep a face and head so hung about with icicles and hoar-frost that she started back as though Father Christmas had come unbidden.