The Mountain Ramparts Of Saas
By The Editor.
Beetham and I left London last summer on Tuesday, 26th July, hoping to meet Somervell and Bishop at Saas Fee at the end of the week. A delightful walk up from Visp, on a very hot day, brought us there on the Thursday.
The fame of the Supersaxos and of the Hotel Glacier had gone through the length and breadth of the land. For the first time since the war the English were swarming out to Switzerland, and the climbers to the Hotel Glacier. I hope the Supersaxos had a good season, and the first of many.
Friday was filled up with a delightful loaf. Beetham was disgusted and wanted to start for a hut. However, in the appalling heat of Saturday’s grind to the Weissmies Hotel he thought perhaps there was something in it from my point of view. At the jolly little hotel (9,000 feet) we came across Lamb, Prior, and O’Malley, and heard the views of one of them on grinding up from Visp after a night in the train.
The whole line of the mighty Saasgrat is in full view, and in the middle the great peaks forming the amazing rampart which towers above the ice-falls of Fee, the Lenzspitze, Dom, Taschhorn, and Alphubel. Behind you runs another glorious rampart, the Fletschhorn, Laquinhorn, and Weissmies.
I had often wondered why no one went over the Laquinhorn south ridge, or the Weissmies north ridge, and my intention of climbing the former was partly decided by a Swiss writer in Alpina, who appeared to regret having chosen the Weissmies north ridge.
We left at 3.45 and reached the pass between them, mostly over glacier, at 6.10. We were feeling pretty fit , but it was a queer sort of morning, with much cloud drifting about, thunder threatening, and in the air a total absence of the wonderful Alpine tang. Of the long ridge of our desire the details have faded. Progress was easy enough for a good time until we reached a magnificent steep part, a sort of narrow face. From the eastern edge we enjoyed a wonderful view of the Simplon side, but crossing to the west we made our way up with only one serious difficulty. There were no bits of snow to help us on, nothing but rock and stones on a loose and narrow ridge, and as we climbed towards the first summit we knew too well that there was no wind, the day was hot, and the sun torrid. At last we were on this, and saw a long ridge curving round and up to the middle summit, itself 300 feet below the top, a ridge much foreshortened in the view from Saas, and one with gendarmes and unwelcome descents on it. From the middle summit, said the book, the top is 500 metres distant.
Refreshed by jam and bread – we could eat nothing else – we found the descents from two jolly gendarmes really not so bad, and reached the second point at 11.30. Another rest, and we began that 500 metres with two bits of snow in queer condition – no help, but restful to the feet. The Laquinhorn (13,140 feet) was reached at 12.50 and we stayed till 2.0. The surrounding peaks were mostly covered with cloud, and at first we were quite sure our sufferings in the tropical atmosphere were to be ended by a good bath, but as time wore on and the lingering drops grew no more frequent, we lost hope. The weird effects of cloud and light were only threats.
In ordinary summers, the ridge towards Saas is a mere snow run, now it looked troublesome. The snow slope was much shrunken and horribly icy. Fortunately the angle is not severe, and after some careful going, we found rocks on the left could be made use of and the step-cutting dodged. Here Beetham declared he could see Somervell not far off. So he was, and by a route from rock to rock we joined him. He had only reached Fee late the night before with a bag of some 15 peaks in a season of miracles. Yet here he was high up the Laquinhorn, a most useful guide over the endless stony ridge down to the hotel (2½ hours). The march to Fee after tea was as hot as ever.
Monday was a typical day of this glorious summer, but the extraordinary warmth made heavy going up the steep 5,000 feet to the Mischabel hut. We did not realise till long after that a storm in the previous autumn had swept away almost very bridge in the Saasthal. Therefore the old path above the village led us to a bridgeless torrent. Beetham and Somervell dared a desperate leap, I, after some wanderings, was compelled to wade, and discovered that a glacier torrent can sometimes be a fraud.
On Tuesday we climbed the Lenzspitze (or Sudlenzspitze) in 4½ hours, Somervell leading, a grand climb. The lower part is up a very nice snow ridge, on which one seems to gain a much greater height than is actually the case. The principal difficulty is in starting the ascent of a great step in the ridge. As we found it, the place was clear of snow and ice, the rock inclined to be rotten, but easier and more rotten as we rose. The final stage was taken largely up a patch of loose rock, but in a normal season this part is probably utterly different.
Our stay on top (14,107 feet) was pleasant, but hot, and again there was nothing of mountain freshness in the air. The view of the snow-clad Dom and the Saasgrat was wonderful. On the Lenzspitze the whole of the steep crag towards the Dom was bare, but the edge of the ridge towards the Nadelhorn retained all the beautiful form of a snow wave. At 9.40 we left and to my relief found the ice not too near the surface as we descended the horns of the snow crest, though care was only too obviously necessary. Up the rocks of the Nadelhorn was hot work, and we were much cheered each time the back of gendarme meant only a little descent.
Soon we found a disgusted tourist surveying a very sick guide who had sat up the night before, the Swiss National Fete. We offered the two sober men all sorts of suggestions, but in the end had to leave them.
Half-past eleven saw us on the Nadelhorn (14,219 feet) and we sat about an hour. To the Windjoch we had to go down very steadily, owing to the thinness of good snow over the hard icy stuff. On the glacier, below the great walls whose skyline we had followed from end to end, the snow was deep and soft, but good to look at. We reached Fee about 5.0, making a long and annoying detour to find a bridge. The best course is to keep the old path and wade the torrent not far above the broken bridge.
Bishop now joined us and the three proceeded to the Britannia hut on Wednesday, while I used a day’s leisure for some necessary correspondence. Both this and the following day were cloudy, but not stormy enough to prevent their successful ascent of the Allalinhorn (13,235 feet).
The walk to the Britannia, beyond the little inn on the Plattje, seen high up above Saas Fee, greatly impressed me with its beauty, the path for two hours running along the steep slopes of the Egginer.
During the night the wind howled ominously, and the cold was really refreshing and welcome. Friday morning saw the whole crowd of 20 or so crossing a very crevassed glacier, bound for the Allalin Pass. From the pass was a most wonderful view. Roping up after breakfast in twos, we mounted rapidly up a long easy snow slope towards the Rimpfischhorn, with the tiny, tiny figures of the other parties crawling up the Allalinhorn at our backs. Up and up till we were almost at summit height. Here Somervell and Beetham waited for us, and Bishop and I went on up the bit of rock till the view along the north ridge of the Rimpfischhorn burst on us. We were on a great tower, really the north peak, and from it plunged the crag spoken of in the guide book as the Great Gendarme.
Somervell came last with great skill down the very sensational ridge, without using a doubled rope. The last bit is the hardest, and the whole was much the stiffest climb so far. It took 1¼ hours and is quite 150 feet high. After that, the rest of the ridge, delightful and entertaining, seemed quite straightforward and not so rotten as expected. The finish was up a chimney in quite the Lakeland style on to the top (13,789 feet) at noon. We had been 4½ hours from the Pass, 7½ hours from the Britannia hut, and probably found. the ridge at its easiest, simply bare rock.
The view was superb. We could see the blue of the Swiss plain, much of Italy, portions of the lakes and so on. One of us thought the day the finest he had ever been out on.
As in 1908, I thought the descent to Zermatt very long. On the snow slope below the rocks, there was the same chop, chop, for quite a time at an angle on which one fidgeted to glissade and daren’t. However, that came to an end, the party broke in two, and the leaders pushed on to secure rooms at the Hotel du Parc, if possible. After the running down ceased, there came a stretch of deep snow in the afternoon sun, and later that most exasperating wilderness of mighty blocks immediately one leaves the ridge for the slope above the Findelen glacier down to the Fluh Alp. Anyhow we reached the little inn at quarter past five, the other men having left before five. No one was in, and no one else had been up the Rimpfischhorn that day. Bishop had felt out of sorts on the way down, and decided to stop the night there, so I completed alone the last lap of 80 minutes to the Hotel du Parc, and such a dinner as one can only have in places where they leave the “plats ” about.
We had to get our shopping done quickly on Saturday, and left by the 12.50 for Randa. Bishop, seen in the distance strolling down the street, was brought in at the last moment by shouts. He went down to St. Niklaus, walked up to Grachen, an hour or so above, and speaks highly of his stay there, and of his walk over a pass into the Saastal. As for us, we had heard of the fiery slopes above Randa, and we found them. Five thousand feet to the Dom hut we climbed in short stages; and I think we should have enjoyed all the five hours, but oh! horror! as we loafed half way, one, two, three – eighteen overloaded people – Swiss weekenders – a section – hut reserved ! Somervell left at the pace of perfect condition. Beetham and I got up and pushed on. When they halted we halted, and the halt was so prolonged we decided it was as we had hoped, the Swiss were having a much worse time than we were, and we were in no danger of being overtaken.
Luckily only one storey was reserved and we were very comfortable, although it was very warm in the night. The Swiss were very pleasant. Once more I was astounded at
the weights they were carrying. All had crampons, we had none, having as yet seen no possibility of any advantage from them. Several men were carrying as much as the three of us.
Late at night a guided party came in, which I understood had come up the Teufelsgrat of the Taschhorn and over the Dom, a tremendous effort.
The hutkeeper was very insistent that we must start for the Dom-Täschhorn traverse at one. I have since found that Dr. O. K. Williamson had done the traverse to Zermatt on this day and no doubt he started at one. For us it was impossible. Even at 3.30 (7th August) it was pitch dark and we only just had light enough to take us over the bad moraine on to the bad bit of the Festi glacier. It was rather interesting to find we had done this bad bit before the Swiss parties had got on their crampons. There was much less dodging among the crevasses of the icefall than we expected, and we pushed on steadily to the Festijoch on the Dom north-west ridge, where we halted, 5.50 – 6.30. Conditions were of the best. Magnificent weather, with a strong, cool west wind, which greatly refreshed us and kept us going all day. What a contrast to the stifling heat on the Laquinhorn and the Lenzspitze and what a view!
The north-west ridge offered no difficulty; at first we were able to vary the snow by stretches of easy rock, then it settled into a slope smashed up by the descending party of the night before, which saved us labour in cutting and kicking. At 9.10 we were up and stayed one hour. Dom (14,941 feet.) Away to Monte Viso, far south of Dauphiné, we saw the main chain of the Alps, then turned and saw it reach peak beyond peak to the Bernina and Disgrazia. Over in the Oberland we could see every peak we had ever climbed. Closer at hand the peaks and ridges of the last week. Lucky mountains, unlucky mountains, mountains we meant to do, mountains we would do again, traverses, ridges, passes – we could have stopped all day, sitting in the sun on the sheltered side of the ridge with the fresh wind tearing over the top, and the green meadows of Fee far down below.
The Täschhorn looked splendid. The only uncomfortable thought in contemplating the day’s finish was – what of finding the way, many hours hence, down the rocks from the upper glacier on the Mischabeljoch to the lower glacier?
At 10.15 I led off down the rocks to the Domjoch. The first part of the journey was pleasant, and the rocks reasonably firm. Looking down the east slope, it seemed possible, apart from the danger of stonefalls, to ascend in several ways, but goodness knows what the face is like out of sight. Then the rocks steadily deteriorated, and climbing down the sides of the rotten gendarmes was most unpleasant. The final steps were for the last man worst of all, though his party were on better ground. Now we were close to the Domjoch, on to it and past it was a jolly bit of snow ridge. Two hours down – a quarter of an hour’s halt. Beetham was rewarded for his patience as middleman by being given the lead. Some remnants of steps in a snow slope help us up to the rocks, and then he races over splendid firm slabs on a fairly narrow ridge to the top of Taschhorn (14,626 feet), 53 minutes instead of the appointed hour. What matter the time and the distance, in weather like this we can stand a bivouac if we get hung up!
So till 2.30 we loaf and gaze and gaze. Bit by bit, all round the horizon and back again. On again, down the long, long ridge from the Täschhorn to the Mischabeljoch, a ridge often looked at and now to be tried. The troublesome part was on the actual peak. First we went down easy rotten rock, and then over snow, alternating with stretches of the vilest stuff, on which we had to be careful not to kill one another. When fairly launched on the ridge, it proved to be, for a long way, snow with a rock edge sticking out on the west side. The snow was no highway, probably icy underneath, so we kept mostly to the rock edge. All the way down, the wavy ridge rising to the snowy mass of the Alphubel was a glorious sight, tempting us to continue over the top of it.
Somervell leading, we went on and on till we reached some gendarmes about 5 o’clock. Personally I was tiring, and as the col seemed some distance we considered a stupid plan of descending on to the glacier by a slope of débris. It did not look nice, tons of rock cannonaded down, the descent became a traverse, the traverse curved up on to the top of the gendarmes, we climbed along, and were forced on to the east slope, hundreds of feet seemingly above the pass, a short descent, the snow close to the joch is in full sight and we realise it is only a couple of rope lengths away. Once more a brief discussion – the broad easy way (long enough too) to Zermatt or the gamblers’ road to Saas.
Somervell is full of confidence. On to Saas!
The steep slope down to the bergschrund demanded care, but a bridge is hit with little trouble and crossed about 6 p.m. No one ever seems to cross the Mischabeljoch now and there are no old traces to help. Close to the edge which marks for us the striking face of rocks running down from the Alphubel and cutting off the lower from the upper glacier, the upper ice was very badly crevassed and we were glad to be able to gain the edge of the rocks without loss of much time. The sight of the rifted ice stretching incredible distances towards Saas had been amazing, and we knew that any prolonged exploration along the edge was out of the question and meant a bivouac. The view down the rock wall, perhaps 1,000 feet, was most impressive, and the adventure there most desperate. The route up the wall is badly described in the guide books and the description is of no assistance descending. So all we could do was to descend to a point on the edge from which we had a good view.
From this there descended a marvellous slab of rock, say 40°, its plane being at right angles to the main run of the face, and therefore forming an edge to the right and a sloping corner far to the left. To me it looked too smooth to be climbed all the way down, and I was very doubtful whether it would not break off into steeper glaciated slabs at the bottom. Somervell was very confident that he could see the connection with the glacier, and so as one or two places could be seen where a bivouac was possible, we set off. The top part was pretty stiff, but after two rope lengths an easier climb followed to some great boulders in cracks, and then it became possible to walk on the slab where it bulged. Under these conditions we made ground rapidly and traversing to the left in a curious combination of sitting, walking and crawling, got into the corner where water raced down the slabs. This bit was wet, but the further the easier. The snow beds of the glacier proved continuous up to the slabs and at 7.40 a glissade brought us on to the glacier, a little above the head of the Langenfluh, all in broad daylight, with the sun on the peaks. It is possible our great rock slab is the snow couloir of the guide books, anything may happen in a season like 1921.
Having had a good view of the crevasses, 8 o’clock saw us on the Langenfluh. At 8.20 We started, lost the path, picked it up, and pounded on towards the lights of Saas, in the sure and certain hope of bed, for was not Bishop playing courier ? An hour later I was last and turned off a broad path down to the bridge, a mile from Fee, wondering what the other fellows had done. It was gone! Confound that storm! Trying to think out what it meant, I took the broad path. Some minutes later, Somervell, a match and a map among the bushes, and consternation. I suggested sleeping there till daybreak, but the coffee was pronounced too good to miss, even though there was a long round and a plug uphill before we could draw nearer to Saas. There are not too many stones on that path in the daytime, in fact it is quite a nice path, but we did not like it because we reached Fee only at 10.
So we finished the Dom-Täschhorn traverse in 18½ hours to Saas Fee. I do not know whether it has ever been done before to Fee, parties generally going to Zermatt. Not the least impressive part of the day is the descent from the Mischabeljoch, down the mountain rampart of Saas.