Winter Mountaineering In 1888

By Mrs. E. P. Jackson.

(Read before the Yorkshire Ramblers’ Club, November 11th, 1903).

It is now so many years since I had any real mountaineering, and the few first ascents that I ever made have been common property for so long – if, indeed, people ever go near them at all, that their newness has worn completely off.

The next best thing therefore that I can think of to address you about is a short season of Winter Climbs that I made in the month of January, 1888 – now more than fifteen years ago.  It was not much of a season, either, for the whole tale only consisted of four peaks, or, to be quite accurate, three big ones with a little one thrown in; and as I had kept very few notes of what we did on these ascents, I have to trust in a great measure to my memory.

This group consisted of the Lauteraarhorn, the Gross Fiescherhorn, the Jungfrau, and a little peak named the Pfaffenstöckli; and of these, the Jungfrau was the only one that I had ever heard of having been ascended in the winter.

 When I arrived at Grindelwald it was to find the preparations for the Christmas and New Year festivities in full swing, and it was quite useless to think of any  expedition – if, indeed, one had wished to – until they were all over; for in those days they were thoroughly well kept up.  However, by January 4th we had finished our feasting and dancing, and had chosen the Lauteraarhorn for our first attempt, – I think chiefly because there was a party starting also on that day for the Schreckhorn, and  that would mean company for the night at the Schwarzegg Hut.

 For a first expedition the Lauteraarhorn was certainly a long way off, and the Strahlegg Pass had to be crossed twice in the day; therefore we prepared for two nights at the hut – in those days a very good one, and by the aid of many blankets, much firewood and plenty to eat and drink, we contrived to make ourselves very comfortable.

Our way from Grindelwald was not the summer route of the mule-path to the Bäregg, but by the middle of the Eismeer – up from the very foot of it, and a most beautiful, easy walk it was, with all the crevasses filled with good hard snow.  The only trouble we had was on the steep grass slopes above the Stieregg; there the snow lay deep and powdery, in several places we might have easily started an avalanche; and we were very glad when we reached the glacier again.  When we arrived at the Schwarzegg Hut, just after nightfall, we were greeted by a good warm fire, some hot tea, and general comfort all round.  We were the second party to arrive.

There was no mistake about the cold when we turned out into the bright moonlight at 4.30 the next morning; but there was no wind, and we ran along the hard frozen glacier to the slopes beyond, and by daybreak stood on the top of the Strahlegg Pass, – a grey and most dismal outlook.  It was bitterly cold too, and a very short time was quite enough for our breakfast.

The descent of the ice-wall was absurdly easy – we simply walked down it, cutting a step here and there in case we wanted them on our return, and by the time we got on to the glacier beneath it we were beginning to feel warm again, as the sun had by this time risen.

We began our ascent of the peak – and, indeed, made a great part of it – by some rocks running down a little to the right of the face; they were dry and warm, and with hardly any snow upon them; but in a few sheltered corners there was just a slight covering of ice; nothing, however, to stop us at all.  These rocks came to an end in a long, narrow, and rather steep snow couloir, which,  as we got nearer to it, we looked at rather anxiously, and more than once, for if it had been filled with ice instead of snow it might have given us a great deal of trouble, or  even stopped us altogether.  The step-cutting here took some little time, and we were glad to be out on to the rocks again, for one very soon felt the cold when in the shade.  Here they were mixed with hard snow, with more work for our axes, and we were not sorry when we reached a warm, sheltered nook at the foot of the final aréte about three quarters-of-an-hour below the summit, and a halt was called.  This meant Breakfast – and Breakfast spelt with a very big “B,” for we had had very little to eat since leaving the hut at 4.30 a.m., and we were desperately hungry.

The aréte consisted of big, solid slabs of rock, warm and entirely free from snow; covered, too, to our great astonishment, with bright yellow lichen; and we passed up this great golden staircase to be received, when we rose to the summit, by cheers from our distant friends then lunching on the Schreckhorn.

From this point the view was good, but not extensive – the Finsteraarhorn and the Schreckhorn being so very near at hand cut off a good deal, and the prospect towards the Grimsel was not particularly inviting; but to the south, and especially about the Zermatt district, it was very beautiful; for the Matterhorn, Weisshorn, Mischabelhörner, and many other old friends, all covered with a warm, yellow light, were standing out splendidly against the bright blue sky, and we did not like turning away from them.

We picked up the rucksacks again at our breakfast place, and then turned slightly to the right, a little away from the line of our ascent, for from the top we had seen a most inviting-looking snow slope, almost asking us to come and glissade.  We accepted the invitation, and in an hour-and-a-quarter after leaving the summit found ourselves again at the foot of our mountain, breathless certainly, but supremely happy, and with plenty of time to return over the Strahlegg by daylight.

We spent that night at the Schwarzegg Hut, for we intended, if possible, to go on the next day to the Bergli – the next point in our journey, and the shortest way would be to cross as high as possible to the Fiescher Glacier.  Now, on the way there, and visible from the hut, was a humble snow peak on which someone had managed (perhaps with difficulty) to scrape together enough material to build up a small stone man.  This was the Pfaffenstöckli, 10,245 ft. in height.  It had, however, among its other possessions, and like others and bigger peaks, a most disagreeable way down, and this we were soon to find out; for by the time we reached the summit – only two short hours – the clouds had gathered all round, and the weather had changed so much for the worse, that there was nothing for it but to make our way down to the Zäsenberg, by some miserable, rotten rocks, covered with equally rotten snow, and then as fast as we could to Grindelwald, where we arrived in a heavy snowstorm.

Three or four days later, on January 10th, we were again on the move – the weather by this time having mended its ways, and we made all preparations for certainly two, or even three, nights at the Bergli Club Hut; for we hoped to get up our second big peak, the Gross Fiescherhorn, and also to bring off what was to be the great event of our season – the crossing of the Jungfrau on to the Wengern Alp.

 We retraced our steps as far as the Zäsenberg – a distinct improvement on the hot summer walk by the Kalli – and then we turned up towards the steep snowslopes close under the Fiescher Grat: there were plenty of crevasses here, big wide ones, but they all could be turned somewhere; and then we kept straight up the glacier until we were just beneath the Hut, now half full of snow.

It was bitterly cold when we turned out the next morning; and this time there was no moon to help us along, and we had to begin almost immediately to cut the steps that were to take us over the Mönch Joch, – never a cheerful proceeding by lantern light, especially for those who merely look on.  Once over the Mönch Joch and we began to feel much happier, for the sun had risen, and it was just a pleasant, easy walk down to, and across the Ewig-Schneefeld, and then on to the base of our peak; a different state of affairs to what it usually is in the summer.

We began our climb by some easy, rather tedious snow-slopes, a little to the right of the face, and which lasted until we were pulled up by the regulation bergschrund, and a feeling that it was time for our next meal.

Then over the bergschrund, across another short slope, and we were on the rocks leading up to the S.S.W. aréte, and by which the greater part of the ascent was made.  These rocks gave some trouble, for they were rather steep, and in the more sheltered places had some ice on them, and which was covered more or less by powdery snow; one or two corners took some time to turn – more time than we wished to give.  The aréte itself was dry and quite easy, and it took us only about twenty minutes to reach the summit and a splendid view.  We seemed to be surrounded by the Oberland Mountains.  They were simply magnificent, and with the same lovely, yellow light over them that we had first seen from the Lauteraarhorn. There was, too, a lovely glimpse of the Grindelwald Valley between the Eiger and the Schreckhorn.  Nearly the whole of the great Pennine Chain, from Monte Leone to Mont Blanc, was visible, the only absentee being the Weisshorn, which was hidden away by the great mass of  the Aletschhorn; while below us was the long Aletsch Glacier, very bright and sunny.

When we left the summit we turned directly on to the face of the mountain and went down it very cautiously for a short distance.  Then came the long glissade, and we were on the glacier again, three quarters-of-an-hour after leaving  the top.  We were back again at the Bergli by nightfall.

The next morning we were up very early, as every moment was of value if we wished to get well over the Jungfrau in the daylight; and we were well beyond the Mönch Joch and the Mönch, and in the hollow of the glacier between the Kranzberg and the Jungfrau by the time the sun had risen.

But this day Fate was dead against us, and even at this early hour things began to look a little doubtful.  The day itself was perfectly fine and clear, but there was wind aloft, and the Mönch was smoking a big morning pipe; still it was too soon to give in, and we hoped that the wind would die down as the day went on.  It did not die down, and we knew it well by the time we reached the bergschrund below the Roththal Sattel.  Here it was blowing a gale.  It seemed to be blowing from every quarter at once, and it was only with some difficulty that we crossed the bergschrund and gained some rocks to our left, where we found a little shelter.  Then was held a Council of War.  The wind had evidently come to stay, and it was perfectly hopeless on that day to think of crossing the Jungfrau; but the guides were very unwilling to turn back without at least trying to see what things looked like a little higher up, and they at last decided to get, if possible, up to the lowest rocks on the aréte overlooking the Roththal.  Between us and the rocks was a short ice slope, and across it a whole ladder of old steps, apparently in such good condition that they would need but little clearing out to be useful again; but although those good men worked at the steps for nearly three hours, and in the teeth of the gale, we never got anywhere near the rocks.  It was very disappointing; the rocks above us seemed to be very free from snow, and the flagstaff on the top, which we could clearly see, looked down upon us with a very provoking smile.

By this time we were half-frozen, and not at all sorry to be back again in our nook under the rocks, and where there was some consolation awaiting us – afternoon tea; for we had with us a kettle, firewood, and various other things necessary for it.  I wonder if ever afternoon tea were so welcome before!

Then we turned back, and once below the Sattel got a little more shelter from the bitter wind; but lower down the snow became soft and powdery, and we were able to move but slowly; then darkness came on as we were crossing the Ober Mönch Joch, and only one of our lanterns would keep alight; and the Bergli Hut that evening saw arrive a very dismal company of four tired-out, hungry folk.

Next morning, the weather having by no means improved, and our provisions getting few and far between, we turned, for the time being, our backs to the mountains and our not unwilling steps towards the fleshpots of Grindelwald.

 It was of no use saying that we did not mind our failure, for we did; and although by this time we thoroughly hated the route to the Bergli the moment the weather improved we were up there again, and this time there was no wind.  We found our old steps still good, so we were able to push on very quickly, and we called our first halt at the tea chalet on the Roththal Sattel, for a good hot lunch of beefsteak; after which we felt ready for the work that lay before us.

 It was such a contrast to what it had been four days earlier; then, the ice slope had cost the guides three hours of very hard work; now, we left it behind us in less than half-an-hour.  The rocks, too, above it were warm and very easy, and the final arete a good broad ridge of snow – not at all the knife-edge that it often is in the summer; and we were soon with our friend the flagstaff on the top of a solid cone of ice.

We went on at once, for every moment was precious, and we were soon down the cone and a few rocks on to the large, somewhat crevassed snowfield beneath, finding here and there some old steps; we went across it as quickly as we could go, and on to the slope leading up to the Silberlücke aréte, and were again helped by another long flight of someone else’s steps.  It was wonderful to see how well they had lasted, and what very little work was required to make them again fit for use.

That aréte was a beautiful walk, not too broad for enjoyment, and with a clear uninterrupted view of the surrounding district; but we could not give it the attention it deserved, for we had to go along it most carefully, as there was a good deal of snow lying on it and many hidden pitfalls waiting for us between the rocks.

 We made a short halt when we got down into the Silberlücke, for we were hungry again, and glad too, of just a little breathing space.  Between us and the Giessen Glacier was now only the bergschrund, shrunk to a mere nothing, with a short easy slope and a few more old steps beyond it; and once more on the glacier  there would be no more rest.

For some distance the surface was perfectly smooth, and we tore along it as fast as we possibly could; but at the foot of the Klein Silberhorn we found it a good deal broken up and crevassed, and once or twice had some difficulty in forcing our way through; but once beyond and we were again going as hard as ever, for the sooner we reached the Schneehorn the better.  The descent of the rocks there was certain to need some time, and there might be a troublesome cornice to cut through; the light before long would begin to fail us, and when we had finished  with the rocks there was still the way to be found down to and across the Guggi Glacier.  This was decidedly the most difficult part of the descent.  The cornice was bad to begin with, and it took a considerable time to make a way through it on to the rocks beneath -and then those rocks! – they were both very steep and very rotten, and they were covered, too, with snow in the worst possible condition.  Our progress was very slow, and before we were half-way down them we had to take to our lanterns, making our going even slower than before, as they had to be constantly and carefully passed from hand to hand.  It seemed hours before we got away from those rocks, by this time, too, we were feeling more than a little anxious about the chance of our finding the way down to the Guggi Glacier in the darkness, and before long we were searching for that outlet all we knew.  We went high and low, far and wide, one lantern to the right the other to the left, and at one time (but we only found that out in the morning) were actually standing beside it.  But the answer was always the same, and at last there was only one thing to do – to seek a refuge for the night.  We found it in a beautiful ice-cave below the level of the glacier, and entered by an inclined plane of smooth and sparkling snow.  It was long and narrow, and divided down the centre by a regular row of ice columns which seemed to be there to support the roof, and from all the walls, all the corners – in short, from every possible place there hung countless icicles of every size and shape; the floor was covered with smooth, fine snow, and the whole place glittered in the lantern light.  The cave was very sheltered, and as we had plenty of warm wraps with us we felt that at least we could keep out some of the cold.  But the larder was the weak spot, Expecting, as we did, to meet some more provisions near the Guggi Hut we had nearly finished all we had, and our dinner that evening, if I remember rightly, consisted chiefly of cheese, raisins, I and a little – very little – red wine; the bread, some lumps of sugar, and a few drops of brandy being kept for our breakfast.

 The next morning five minutes search revealed the missing link close to where we had spent the night, and it was small blame to us that we had not discovered it in the darkness, for it was exceedingly narrow, somewhat crooked, and completely hidden away behind a large block of ice; there had also been a recent fall of séracs in the neighbourhood, and we had to go down very carefully.  Beyond the debris we met the two guides with the much-longed-for provisions.  They, poor fellows, had spent a much worse night than we had done, for not meeting us at the appointed place they had come on higher up the glacier, and finally had had for hours to wander round and round the many blocks of ice, without any shelter whatever.  Here, really, the journey ends; for, after passing the Guggi Hut, which was nearly buried in snow, there was a good straight course before us to the Wengern Alp; and I must draw a veil over the amount we ate and drank in a wood shed there; but, after that lovely breakfast, we went on through the woods to Grindelwald, where, it goes without saying, we found the warmest of warm welcomes awaiting us.