Pionniers des Alpes - Pioneers of the Alps

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THE GUIDES OF THE ALPS: WHAT THEY ARE AND WHAT THEY DO

This text comes from TRUE TALES OF MOUNTAIN ADVENTURE FOR NON-CLIMBERS YOUNG AND OLD ,by MRS AUBREY LE BLOND, 1903

There is no profession drawing its members from the peasant class which requires a combination of so many high and rare qualities as that of a mountain guide. Happily, the dwellers in hillcountries seem usually more noble in mind androbust of frame than the inhabitants of plains, andall who know them well must admit that among Alpine guides are to be found men whose intelligence and character would rank high in any class of life.

I have usually noticed that the abilities and duties of a guide are little understood by the non-climber,who often imagines that a guide's sole business is to know the way and to carry the various useless articles which the beginner in mountaineering insists on taking with him.

Guiding, if it sometimes does include these duties, is far more than this. The first-class guide must be the general of the little army setting out to invade the higher regions. He need not know the way—in fact, it sometimes happens that he has never before visited the district—but he must be able to find a way, and a safe one, to the summit of the peak for which his party is bound. An inferior guide may know, from habit, the usual way up a mountain, but, should the conditions ofice and snow alter, he is unable to alter with them and vary his route. You may ask: "How does a guide find his way on a mountain new to him?" There are several means open to him. If the peakis well known, as is, say, the Matterhorn, he will have heard from other guides which routes have been followed, and will know that if he desires to take his traveller up the ordinary way he must go past the Schwarz-see Hotel, and on to the ridge which terminates in the Hörnli, making for the hut which he has seen from below through the telescope. Then he remembers that he must cross to the east face, and while doing so he will notice the scratches on the rocks from the nailed bootsof previous climbers. Now, mounting directly upward,he will pick out the passages which seem easiest, until, passing the ruined upper hut, he comes out on the ridge and looks down the tremendous precipice which overhangs the Matterhorn Glacier. This ridge, he knows, he simply has to follow until he reaches the foot of a steep face of rock some 50 feet high, down which hangs a chain. He has heard all about this bit of the climb since his boyhood, and he tells his traveller that, once on the top of the rock, all difficulty will be over,and the final slope to the summit will be found a gentle one. So it comes to pass that the partyreaches the highest pinnacle of the great mountain without once diverging from the best route. Occasionally the leading guide may take with him as secondguide a man from the locality, but most climbers will prefer to keep with them the two guides they are used to.

It is not only on mountains that a guide is able to find his way over little known ground. Many years ago Melchior Anderegg came to stay with friends in England, and arrived at London BridgeStation in the midst of a thick London fog. "He was met by Mr Stephen and Mr Hinchliff," writes his biographer in The Pioneer of the Alps, " who accompanied him on foot to the rooms of the latter gentleman in Lincoln's Inn Fields. A day or two later the same party found themselves at the same station on their return from Woolwich.'Now, Melchior,' said Mr Hinchliff, 'you will lead us back home.' Instantly the skilful guide, who had never seen a larger town than Berne, accepted the situation, and found his way straight back without difficulty, pausing for consideration only once, as if to examine the landmarks at the foot of Chancery Lane."

Now, let us see how a guide sets about exploring a district where no one has previously ascended the mountains. Of this work I have seen a good deal, since in Arctic Norway my Swiss guides and I have ascended more than twenty hitherto-unclimbedpeaks, and were never once unable to reach the summit. Of course, the first thing is to see the mountains, and, to do this, it is wise to ascend something which you are sure, from its appearance, is easy, and then prospect for others, inspecting others again from them, and so on, ad infinitum. You cannot always see the whole of a route, and, perhaps, your leading guide will observe: "We can reach that upper glacier by thegully in the rocks." "What gully?" you ask."The one to the left. There must be one there. Look at the heap of stones at the bottom!" Thus, from the seen to the unseen the guide argues, reading a fact from writing invisible to the untrainedeye. Between difficulty and danger, too, he draws a sharp distinction, and attacks with fullconfidence a steep but firm wall of rock, turning back from the easy-looking slope of snow readyto set forth in an avalanche directly the foot touches it.

And how is this proficiency obtained? How does the guide learn his profession?

In different ways, but he usually begins young, tending goats on steep grassy slopes requiring balance and nerve to move about over. Later on, having decided that he wishes to be a guide, the boy, at the age of seventeen or eighteen, offers himself for examination on applying for a certificate as porter. The requirements for this first step are not great: a good character, a sound physique, aknowledge of reading and writing, and in most Alpine centres the guild of guides will grant him a license. He can now accompany any guide who will take him, on any expedition that guide considers within the porter's powers. His advancement depends on his capacity. Should he quickly adapt himself to the work, the guides will trust him more and more, taking him on difficult ascents and allowing him occasionally to share the responsibility of leading on an ascent and coming downlast when descending. It will readily be seen that the leader must never slip, and must, when those who follow are moving, be able to hold them should anything go wrong with them. The same applies to the even more responsible position of last man coming down. When a porter reaches this stage, he is little inferior to a second guide.He can now enter for his final examination. If he is competent, he has no trouble in passing it, and I fear that if the contrary—as is the case in many of those who apply—he gets through easily enough.

At Chamonix the guides' society is controlled by Government. The rules press hardly on the better class of guides there, or would do so if observed; but a first-class guide is practically independent of them, and mountaineers who know the ropes can avoid the regulations. At Zermatt greater liberty is allowed, and, indeed, I believe that everywhere except at Chamonix a guide is free to go with anyclimber who applies for him. At Chamonix the rule is that the guides are employed in turn, so that the absurd spectacle is possible of a man of real experience carrying a lady's shawl across the Mer de Glace, while a guide, who is little better than a porter, sets out to climb the Aiguille de Dru! However,the exceptions to this rule make a broadway of escape, for a lady alone, a member of an Alpine club, or a climber bent on a particularly difficult ascent, may choose a guide.

The pay of a first-class guide is seldom by tariff, for the class of climber who alone would have theopportunity of securing the services of one of theextremely limited number of guides of the firstorder generally engages him for some weeks at atime. Indeed, such men are usually bespoken ayear in advance. The pay offered and expected is25 fr. a day, including all expeditions, or else 10 fr.a day for rest days, 50 fr. for a peak, 25 fr. for apass, in both cases the guide to keep himself, whiletravelling expenses and food on expeditions are to be paid for by the employer. If a season is fine and the party energetic, the former rate of payment may be the cheaper. The second guide generally receives two-thirds as much as the firstguide.

When a novice is about to choose a guide, the advice of an experienced friend is invaluable, but, failing this, it is worse than useless to rely on inn-keepers, casual travellers, or the guide-chef at the guides' office of the locality. From these you can obtain the names of guides whom they recommend, but before making any definite arrangements, see the men themselves and carefully examine their books of certificates. In these latter lie your security, if you read them intelligently. Bear in mind that their value consists in their being signed by competent mountaineers. For instance, you may find something like thefollowing in a guide's book:—

Now, this is by some one you never heard of, and a very little consideration will show you that A. S.Smith is quite ignorant of climbing, judging by his wording of the certificate. That which follows,taken from the late Christian Almer's Führerbuch,is the sort of thing to carry weight:—

It is when things go badly that a first-class guide is so conspicuously above an inferior man. In sudden storms or fog you may, if accompanied by the former, be in security, while the latter mayget his party into positions of great peril. The former will take you slowly and carefully, sounding, perhaps, at every step, over what appears to you a perfectly easy snow plateau. The latter goes across a similar place unsuspecting of harm and with the rope loose, and, lo and behold, you all find yourselves in a hidden crevasse, and are lucky if you escape with your lives. In the earlydays of mountaineering guides were frequently drawn from the chamois hunters of a district, a sportrequiring, perhaps, rather the quickness and agility of the born climber and gymnast than the qualities of calculation and prudence needed in addition by the guide.

The most tho roughly unorthodox beginning to a great career of which I have ever heard was that of Joseph Imboden, of St Nicholas. When a boy his great desire, as he has often told me,was to become a guide. But his father would not consent to it, and apprenticed him to a boot-maker. During the time he toiled at manufacturing and mending shoes he contrived to save 20 fr. He then, at the age of sixteen, ran away from his employer, bought a note-book,and established himself at the Riffel Hotel above Zermatt. On every possible occasion he urged travellers to employ him as guide.

"Where is your book, young man?" they invariably enquired.

He showed it to them, but the pages wereblank, and so no one would take him.

"At last," Imboden went on, "my 20 fr. were all but spent, when I managed to persuade a young Englishman to let me take him up Monte Rosa. I told him I knew the mountain well, and I would not charge him high. So we started. I had never set foot on a glacier before or on anymountain, but there was a good track up the snow,and I followed this, and there were other parties on Monte Rosa, so I copied what the guides did,and roped my gentleman as I saw the guidesdoing theirs. It was a lovely day, and we got on very well, and my gentleman was much pleased, and offered me an engagement to go to Chamonix with him over high passes.

"Then I said to myself: 'Lies have been very useful till now, but the time has come to speak the truth, and I will do so.'

"So I said to him: 'Herr, until to-day I have neverclimbed a mountain, but I am strong and active, and I have lived among mountaineers and mountains, and I am sure I can satisfy you if you will take me.'

"He was quite ready to do so, and we crossed the Col du Géant and went up Mont Blanc, but could do no more as the weather was bad. Then he wrote a great deal in my book, and since then I have never been in want of a gentleman to guide."

Imboden's eldest son, Roman, began still younger.When only thirteen he was employed by a memberof the Alpine Club, Mr G. S. Barnes, to carry hislunch on the picnics he made with his friends onthe glaciers near Saas-Fée. The party eventuallyundertook more ambitious expeditions, and oneevening, Roman, who was very small for his age,was seen entering his native village at the head of a number of climbers who had crossed the Ried Pass, the little boy proudly carrying the largest knapsack of which he could possess himself, a hugecoil of rope, and an ice-axe nearly as big as himself. Thus commenced the career of an afterwards famous Alpine guide.

During some fifteen seasons Imboden accompanied me on my climbs, frequently with Romanas second guide. Once the latter went with me to Dauphiné, and, though only twenty-three at thetime, took me up the Meije, Ecrins, and other bigpeaks, his father being detained at home by reasonof a bitter feud with the railway company about torun a line through his farm. It is sad to look back to the terrible ending of Roman's career at a periodwhen he was the best young guide in the Alps. How little, in September 1895, as with the Imbodens, father and son, I stood on the summit of the Lyskamm, did any of us think that never again should we be together on a mountain, and that from the very peak on which we were Roman would be precipitated in one awful fall of hundreds of feet, his companions, Dr Guntner and the second guide Ruppen, also losing their lives.

I shall never forget the evening the news reached us at Zermatt. Imboden was, as usual, my guide, but Roman was leading guide to Dr Guntner. Amonth or two previously this gentleman had written to Roman asking if he would climb with him. Roman showed the letter to his father, saying: "I only go with English people, so I shall refuse." "Do not reply in a hurry," was the answer; "wait and see what the Herr is like, he is coming here soon." So Roman waited, saw Dr Guntner, liked him immensely, and engaged himself, not only till the end of the season, but also for a five months'mountaineering expedition in the Himalayas. We had all arrived at Zermatt from Fée a few daysbefore, and while we waited in the valley for goodweather, Dr Guntner, Roman Imboden, and Ruppen went to the Monte Rosa Hut to get some exercise next day on one of the easier peaks in the neighbourhood.Dr Guntner much wished to try the Lyskamm. Roman was against it, as the weather and snow were bad. However, in the morning there was a slight improvement, and as Dr Guntner was still most anxious to attempt the Lyskammand Roman was so attached to him that he wished to oblige him in every way he could, he consented to, at any rate, go and look at it. Another partyfollowed, feeling secure in the wake of such first-rate climbers, and, though the snow was atrocious and the weather grew worse and worse, no oneturned back, and the summit was not far distant. 

The gentleman in the second party did not feel very well, and made a long halt on the lower part ofthe ridge. Something seems to have aroused his suspicions—some drifting snow above, it was said, but I could never understand this part of the story—and an accident was feared. Abandoning the ascent, partly because of illness, partly on account of the weather, the party went down. At the bottom of the ridge, wishing to see if indeed something had gone wrong, they bore over towards the Italian side of the mountain. Directly the snowy plain at the base of the peak became visible, their worst fears were confirmed, for they perceived three black specks lying close together. Examining themthrough their glasses, it was but too certain that what they saw were the lifeless bodies of DrGunnter, Roman, and Ruppen.

Meanwhile, unconscious of the awful tragedybeing enacted that day on the mountains, I hadsent Imboden down to St Nicholas to see hisfamily, and, after dinner, was sitting writing inthe little salon of the Hotel Zermatt when two people entered, remarking to each other, "What a horrible smash on the Lyskamm!"

I started to my feet. Something told me it must be Roman's party. Crossing quickly over to the Monte Rosa Hotel, I found a silent crowd gathering in the street. I went into the office.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Roman's party," was the answer.

"How do you know?"

"The other party has telephoned from the Riffel; we wait for them to arrive to hear particulars."

The crowd grew larger and larger in the darkwithout. All waited in cruel suspense. I could not bear to think of Imboden.

An hour passed. Then there was a stir among the waiting throng, and I went out among them and waited too.

The other party was coming. As the little band filed through the crowd, one question only was whispered.

"Is there any hope?" Sadly shaking their heads,the gentleman and his guides passed into Herr Seiler's room, and there we learned all there was to hear.

I need not dwell on Imboden's grief. He willnever be the same man again, though three more sons are left him; but I must put on record his first words to me when I saw him: "Ruppen has left a young wife and several children, and they are very poor. Will you get up a subscription for them, ma'am, and help them as much as possible?"

It was done, and for Roman a tombstone was erected, "By his English friends, as a mark of their appreciation of his sterling qualities as a man and a guide." Roman was twenty-seven at the time of the accident. Neither Imboden nor I cared to face the sad associations of the Alps after the death of Roman, and the next and following years we mountaineered in Norway instead.

It will have been noticed that a climber nearly always takes two guides on an expedition. A visitor at Zermatt, or some other climbing centre,was heard to enquire: "Why do people take twoguides? Is it in case they lose one?"

There are several reasons why a climbing party should not number less than three. In a difficult place, if one slips, his two companions should be able to check his fall immediately, whereas if theparty number but two the risk of an accident is much greater. Again, a mishap to one of a party of two is infinitely more serious than had there been three climbing together. A glance at the accompanying photograph of some mountaineers reconnoitring a big crevasse will make my pointclear.

A first-class guide will use the rope very differently to an inferior man, who allows it to hang about in a tangle, and to catch on every point of projecting rock.

A friend of mine, a Senior Wrangler, was extremely anxious to learn how to use a rope properly. So,instead of watching the method of his guide, he purchased a handbook, and learned by heart all the maxims there in contained on the subject. Shortly after these studies of his I was descending a steepface of rock in his company. I was in advance,and had gone down as far as the length of rope between us permitted. A few steps below wasa commodious ledge, so I called out: "More rope, please!"

My friend hesitated, cleared his throat, and replied:"I am not sure if I ought to move just now,because, in Badminton, on page so-and-so, lineso-and-so, the writer says——"

"Will you please give the lady more rope, sir!" called out Imboden.

"He says that if a climber finds himself in aposition——"

"Will you go on, sir, or must I come down and help you?" exclaimed Imboden from above, and, at last, reluctantly enough, my friend moved on. He is now a distinguished member of the AlpineClub, so there is, perhaps, something to be said infavour of learning mountaineering from precept rather than example!

Occasionally a guide's manipulation of the rope includes something more arduous than merely being always ready to stop a slip. If his traveller is tired and the snow slopes are long and wearisome, it may happen that a guide will put the rope over hisshoulder and pull his gentleman. A mountaineer of my acquaintance met a couple ascending the Breithorn in this manner. It was a hot day, and the amateur was very weary. Furthermore, he could speak no German. So he entreated his compatriotto intercede for him with the guide, who would insist on taking him up in spite of hisgroans of fatigue.

"Why do you not return when the gentleman wishes it?" queried the stranger.

"Sir," replied the guide, "he can go, he must go; he has paid me in advance!"

The rope generally used by climbers is made in England, is known as Alpine Club rope, and maybe recognised by the bright red thread which runs through the centre of it. A climber should have his own rope, and not trust to any of doubtful quality. 

Should climbers desire to make ascents in seldom explored parts of the world, such as the Caucasus, the Andes, or the Himalayas, they must take Alpine guides with them, for mountains everywhere havemany characteristics in common, and as a good rider will go over a country unknown to him better than a bad horseman to whom it is familiar, so will a skilfulguide find perhaps an easy way up a mountain previously unexplored, while the natives of the district declare the undertaking an impossible one. The Canadian Pacific Railway Company have recognised the truth of this, and have secured the services of Swiss guides for climbing in the Rockies.

The devotion of a really trust worthy guide to his employer is a fine trait in his character. My guide, Joseph Imboden, has often told me that for years the idea that he might somehow return safe from an expedition during which his traveller was killed, was simply a nightmare to him. Directly the rope was removed his anxiety commenced, and he was just as careful to see that the climber did not slip in an easyplace as he had been on the most difficult part of the ascent. It is an unbroken tradition that no St.Nicholas guide ever comes home without his employer; all return safely or all are killed. Alas! the list of killed is a long one from that little Alpine village. In the churchyard, from the most recent grave, covered by the beautiful white marble stoneplaced there by Roman's English friends, to thoserecalling accidents a score or more of years ago, there lies the dust of many brave men. But I must notdwell on the gloom of the hills; let me rather recallsome of the many occasions when a guide, by hisskill, quickness, or resource, has saved his own and his charges' lives.

A famous Oberlander, Lauener by name, noted for his great strength, performed on one occasion a marvellous feat. He was ascending a steep ice slope, at the bottom of which was a precipice. He was alone with his "gentleman," and to this fact, usually by no means a desirable one, they both owed their lives. A big boulder seemed to be so deeply imbedded in the ice as to be actually part of the underlying rock.The traveller was just below it, the guide had cut steps alongside, and was above with, most happily, the rope taut. As he gained the level of the boulder he put his foot on it. To his horror it began tomove! He took one rapid step back, and with a super human effort positively swung his traveller cleanout of the steps and dangled him against the slope while the rock, heeling slowly outwards, broke loose from its icy fetters and plunged down the mountain side, right across the very place where the climber had been standing but an instant before.

A small man, whose muscles are in perfect condition, and who knows how to turn them to account, can accomplish what would really appear to be almost impossible for any one of his size.

Ulrich Almer, eldest son of the famous guide, the late Christian Almer, saved an entire party on one occasion by his own unaided efforts. They were descending the Ober Gabelhorn, a high mountain nearZermatt, and had reached a ridge where there isusually a large cornice. Now, a cornice is an overhanging eave of snow which has been formed by the wind blowing across a ridge. Sometimes cornices reach an enormous size, projecting 50 feet or morefrom the ridge. In climbing, presence of mind may avail much if a cornice breaks—absence of body is, however, infinitely preferable. Even first-class guides may err in deciding whether a party is or is not atan absolutely safe distance from a cornice. Thoughnot actually on that part of the curling wave of snowwhich overhangs a precipice, the party may be indanger, for when a cornice breaks away it usuallytakes with it part of the snow beyond.

By some miscalculation the first people on therope walked on to the cornice. It broke, and they dropped straight down the precipice below. But at the same moment Ulrich saw and grasped the situation, and, springing right out on the other side, wasable to check them in their terrible fall. It was no easy matter for the three men, one of whom had dislocated his shoulder, to regain the ridge, although held all the time by Ulrich. Still it was at lengthsafely accomplished. The two gentlemen were sograteful to their guide that they wished to give him an acceptable present, and after much consideration decided that they could not do better than present him with a cow!

In trying to save a party which has fallen off a ridge, either by the breaking of a cornice or by a slip, I am told by first-rate guides that the proper thing to do is to jump straight out into the air on the opposite side. You thus bring a greater strain on the rope,and are more likely to check the pace at which yourcompanions are sliding. I had a very awkward experience myself on one occasion when, owing to thesoftness of the snow, we started an avalanche, and the last guide, failing to spring over on the other side,we were all carried off our feet. Luckily, we wereable, by thrusting our axes through into a lowerand harder layer of snow, to arrest our wild career.

Piz Palü, in the Engadine, was once nearly the scene of a terrible tragedy through the breaking of a cornice, the party only being saved by the quickness and strength of one of their guides. The climbers consisted of Mrs Wainwright, her brother-in-lawDr B. Wainwright and the famous Pontresina guides Hans and Christian Grass. Bad weatherovertook them during their ascent, and while they were passing along the ridge the fog was so thick that Hans Grass, who was leading, got on to the cornice. He was followed by the two travellers, and then with a mighty crack the cornice split asunder and precipitated them down the icy precipice seen to the right. Last on the rope came sturdy old Christian Grass, who grasped the awful situation in an instant, and sprang back. He held, but could, of course, do no more. Now was the critical time for the three hanging against the glassy wall. Both Hans and the lady had dropped their axes. Dr Wainwrightalone retained his, and to this the party owed their lives. Of course he, hanging at the top, could donothing; but after shouting out his intentions to those below, he called on Hans to make ready to catch the axe when it should slip by him. A moment of awful suspense, and the weapon was grasped by the guide, who forth with he wed a bigstep out of the ice, and, standing on it, began the toilsome work of constructing a staircase back to theridge. At last it was done, and when the three laypanting on the snow above, it was seen that by that time one strand only of the rope had remained intact.

The following account of a narrow escape from theresult of a cornice breaking has an especially sadinterest, for it was found amongst the papers of LordFrancis Douglas after his tragic death on the Matterhorn,and was addressed to the Editor of the AlpineJournal. The ascent described was made on 7th July1865, and the poor young man was killed on the 14th of the same month.

The Gabelhorn is a fine peak, 13,365 feet high, inthe Zermatt district.

Lord Francis Douglas writes:—"We arrived atthe summit at 12.30. There we found that some onehad been the day before, at least to a point verylittle below it, where they had built a cairn; but theyhad not gone to the actual summit, as it was a peakof snow, and there were no marks of footsteps. Onthis peak we sat down to dine, when, all of a sudden,I felt myself go, and the whole top fell with a crashthousands of feet below, and I with it, as far as therope allowed (some 12 feet). Here, like a flash oflightning, Taugwald came right by me some 12feet more; but the other guide, who had only the minute before walked a few feet from the summit topick up something, did not go down with the mass,and thus held us both. The weight on the ropemust have been about 23 stone, and it is wonderfulthat, falling straight down without anything to breakone's fall, it did not break too. Joseph Viennin thenpulled us up, and we began the descent to Zermatt."

Here, again, one of the guides saved the partyfrom certain destruction.

It is in time of emergency that a really first-rateguide is so far ahead of an inferior man. In manycases when fatal results have followed unexpectedbad weather or exceptionally difficult conditions ofa mountain, bad guiding is to blame, while the caseswhen able guides have brought down themselves andtheir employers from very tight places indeed, arefar more frequent than have ever been related.

A really wonderful example of a party broughtsafely home after terrible exposure is related inThe Pioneers of the Alps. The well-known guides,Andreas Maurer and Emile Rey, with an Englishclimber, had tried to reach the summit of theAiguille du Plan by the steep ice slopes above theChamonix Valley. "After step-cutting all day, theyreached a point when to proceed was impossible,and retreat looked hopeless. To add to their difficulties,47bad weather came on, with snow and intensecold. There was nothing to be done but to remainwhere they were for the night, and, if they survivedit, to attempt the descent of the almost precipitousice-slopes they had with such difficulty ascended.They stood through the long hours of that bitternight, roped together, without daring to move, on anarrow ridge, hacked level with their ice-axes. I knowfrom each member of the party that they lookedupon their case as hopeless, but Maurer not onlynever repined, but affected rather to like the wholething, and though his own back was frozen hard tothe ice-wall against which he leaned, and in spite ofdriving snow and numbing cold, he opened coat,waistcoat and shirt, and through the long hours ofthe night he held, pressed against his bare chest, thehalf-frozen body of the traveller who had urged himto undertake the expedition.

"The morning broke, still and clear, and at sixo'clock, having thawed their stiffened limbs in the warm sun, they commenced the descent. Probably no finer feat in ice-work has ever been performed than that accomplished by Maurer and Rey on the10th August 1880. It took them ten hours of continuous work to reach the rocks and safety, and their work was done without a scrap of food, after eighteen hours of incessant toil on the previous day, followed by a night of horrors such as few can realize." Had the bad weather continued, the party could not possibly have descended alive, "and this act of unselfish devotion would have remained unrecorded!"

Perhaps the most remarkable instance of endurancetook place on the Croda Grande. The partyconsisted of Mr Oscar Schuster and the Primieroguide, Giuseppe Zecchini. They set out on 17thMarch 1900, from Gosaldo at 5.10 A.M., the weatherbecoming unsettled as they went along. After theyhad been seven hours on the march a storm arose,yet, as they were within three-quarters of an hourof the top of their peak, they did not like to turnback. They duly gained the summit, the stormmomentarily increasing in violence, and then theydescended on the other side of the mountain tillthey came to an overhanging rock giving a certainamount of shelter. The guide had torn his glovesto pieces during the ascent, and his fingers were rawand sore from the difficult icy rocks he had climbed.As the cold was intense, they now began to be verypainful. The weather grew worse and worse, andthe two unfortunate climbers were obliged to remainin a hole scooped out of the snow, not only during the night of the 17th, but also during the wholeday and night of the 18th. On the 19th, at 8 A.M.,they made a start, not having tasted food forforty-eight hours. Five feet of snow had fallen, andthe weather was still unsettled, but go they hadto. First they tried to return as they came, butthe masses of snow barred the way. They weredelayed so long by the terrible state of the mountainthat they had to spend another night out, and itwas not till 6 P.M. on the 20th, after great dangerthat they reached Gosaldo. The guide, from whoseaccount in The Alpine Journal I have borrowed,lost three fingers of his right hand and one of theleft from frost-bite; the traveller appears to havecome off scot free. 

The fathers of modern mountaineering wereundoubtedly the two great Oberland guides,Melchior Anderegg and Christian Almer, who commencedtheir careers more than half a century ago.The former is still with us, the latter passed awaysome two years ago, accomplishing with ease expeditionsof first-rate importance till within a seasonor two of his death. Melchior began his climbingexperiences when filling the humble duties of bootsat the Grimsel Inn. He was sent to conductparties to the glaciers, his master taking the fee,while Melchior's share was the pourboire. His aptitudefor mountain craft was soon remarked by thetravellers whom he accompanied, and in a luckyhour for him—and indeed for all concerned—hewas regularly taken into the employ of Mr Walkerand his family. At that time Melchior couldspeak only a little German in addition to his Oberland51patois, and was quite unaccustomed to intercoursewith English people. He was most anxious,however, to say the right thing, and thought hecould not do better than copy the travellers, soMr Walker was somewhat startled on finding himselfaddressed as "Pa-pa," while his children weregreeted respectively as "Lucy" and "Horace."The friendship between Melchior and the survivingmembers of Mr Walker's family has lasted eversince, and is worthy of all concerned. Melchiorwas born a guide, as he was born a gentleman,and no one who has had the pleasure of his acquaintancecan fail to be impressed by his tactand wonderful sweetness of disposition, which haveenabled him to work smoothly and satisfactorilywith other guides, who might well have felt somejealousy at his career of unbroken success.

Melchior's great rival and friend, Christian Almer,was of a more impetuous disposition, but none theless a man to be respected and liked for his sturdyuprightness and devotion to his employers. Theromantic tale of his ascent of the Wetterhorn, whichfirst brought him into notice, has been admirablytold by Chief-Justice Wills in his "Wanderingsamong the High Alps." Mr Wills, as he thenwas, had set out from Grindelwald to attempt the52ascent of the hitherto unclimbed Wetterhorn. Hehad with him the guides Lauener, Bohren, andBalmat. The former, a giant in strength andheight, had determined to mark the ascent in away there should be no mistaking, so, seeking outthe blacksmith, he had a "Flagge," as he termedit, prepared, and with this upon his back, he joinedthe rest of the party. The "Flagge" was a sheetof iron, 3 feet long and 2 broad, with rings toattach it to a bar of the same metal 10 or 12 feethigh, which he carried in his hand. "He pointedfirst to the 'Flagge,' and then, with an exultinglook on high, set up a shout of triumph which madethe rocks ring again."

The Wetterhorn is so well seen from Grindelwald that it was natural some jealousy should arise as to who should first gain the summit. At this time Christian Almer was a chamois hunter, and his fine climbing abilities had been well trained in that difficult sport. He heard of the expedition, andtook his measures accordingly.

Meanwhile Mr Wills' party, having bivouacked onthe mountain side, had advanced some way upwards towards their goal, and were taking a little rest. As they halted, "we were surprised," writes MrWills, "to behold two other figures, creeping along the dangerous ridge of rocks we had just passed.They were at some little distance from us, but we saw they were dressed in the guise of peasants."

Lauener exclaimed that they must be chamois hunters, but a moment's reflection showed them that no chamois hunter would come that way, and immediately after they noticed that one of them" carried on his back a young fir-tree, branches, leaves, and all." This young man was Christian Almer, and a fitting beginning it was to a great career.

"We had turned aside to take our refreshment,"continues Mr Wills, "and while we were so occupied they passed us, and on our setting forth again, we saw them on the snow slopes, a good way ahead, making all the haste they could, and evidently determined to be the first at the summit."

The Chamonix guides were furious, declaring that no one at Chamonix would be capable of so mean an action, and threatening an attack if they met them. The Swiss guides also began to see the enormity of the offence. "A great shouting now took place between the two parties, the result of which was that the piratical adventurers promised to wait forus on the rocks above, whither we arrived very soon after them. They turned out to be two chamois hunters, who had heard of our intended ascent, and resolved to be even with us, and plant their tree side by side with our 'Flagge.' They had started very early in the morning, had crept up the precipices above the upper glacier of Grindelwald before it was light, had seen us soon after daybreak, followed on our trail, and hunted us down. Balmat's angerwas soon appeased when he found they owned the reasonableness of his desire that they should not steal from us the distinction of being the first toscale that awful peak, and instead of administering the fisticuffs he had talked about, he declared they were 'bons enfants' after all, and presented them with a cake of chocolate; thus the pipe of peace wassmoked, and tranquility reigned between the rivalforces."

The two parties now moved upwards together,and eventually reached the steep final slope of snow so familiar to all who have been up the Wetterhorn. They could not tell what was above it, but they hoped and thought it might be the top.

At last, after cutting a passage through the cornice,which hung over the slope like the crest of agreat wave about to break, Mr Wills stepped onto the ridge. His description is too thrilling to beomitted. "The instant before, I had been face toface with a blank wall of ice. One step, and the eye took in a boundless expanse of crag and glacier,peak and precipice, mountain and valley, lake andplain. The whole world seemed to lie at my feet.The next moment, I was almost appalled by theawfulness of our position. The side we had comeup was steep; but it was a gentle slope comparedwith that which now fell away from where I stood.A few yards of glittering ice at our feet, and thennothing between us and the green slopes of Grindelwald, 9000 feet below. Balmat told me afterwards that it was the most awful and startling moment he had known in the course of his long mountain experience. We felt as in the immediate presence of Him who had reared this tremendous pinnacle, and beneath the 'majestical roof' of whoseblue heaven we stood poised, as it seemed, half-waybeneath the earth and sky."

Another notable ascent by Almer of the Wetterhorn was made exactly thirty years later, when,with the youngest of his five sons (whom he was taking up for the first time) and an Englishclimber he repeated as far as possible all the details of his first climb, the lad carrying a young fir-tree, as his father had done, to plant on the summit. Finally, in 1896, Almer celebrated his goldenwedding on the top of the mountain he knew so well. He was accompanied by his wife, and the sturdy old couple were guided by their sons.

But all guides are not the Melchiors or the Almers of their profession. Sometimes, bent on photography from the easier peaks, I have taken whoever was willing to come and carry the camera, and on one occasion had rather an amusing experience with an indifferent specimen of the Pontresina Führerverein. All went well at first, and our large party, mostly of friends who knew nothing of climbing, trudged along quite happily till afterour first halt for food. When we started again after breakfast our first adventure occurred. We had one first-class guide with us in the person of Martin Schocker, but were obliged to make up the number required for the gang by pressing several inferior men into our service. One of these was leading the first rope-full (if such an expression maybe allowed), and with that wonderful capacity for discovering crevasses where they would be avoided by more skilful men, he walked on to what lookedlike a firm, level piece of snow, and in a second was gone! The rope ran rapidly out as we flung ourselves into positions of security, and as we hadkept our proper distances the check came on usall as on one. We remained as we were, while the second caravan advanced to our assistance. Its leading guide, held by the others, cautiously approached the hole, and seeing that our man was dangling, took measures to haul him up. This wasnot very easy, as the rope had cut deeply into thesoft snow at the edge; but with so large a party there was no real difficulty in effecting a rescue. At last our guide appeared, very red in the face, puffing like a grampus, and minus his hat. As soon as he had regained breath he began to talk very fast indeed. It seemed that the crown of his hat was used by him for purposes similar to those served by the strong rooms and safes of the rich; for in his head-gear he was in the habit of storing family documents of value, and among others packed away there was his marriage certificate! The hat now reposed at the bottom of a profound crevasse,and his lamentations were, in consequence, both loud and prolonged. I don't know what happened when he got home, but for the rest of the day he was a perfect nuisance to us all, explaining by voice and gesture, repeated at every halt, the terrifying experience and incalculable loss he had suffered. Another unlucky result of his dive into the crevasse was its effect upon a lady member of the party, who had been induced, by much persuasion, to venture for the first time on a mountain. So startled was she by his sudden disappearance, that she jibbed determinedly at every crack in the glacier we had to cross, and, as they were many, ourprogress became slower and slower, and it was very late indeed before we regained the valley.

Mr Clinton Dent, writing in The Alpine Journal,justly remarks: "Guides of the very first rank are still to be found, though they are rare; yet there are, perhaps, as many of the first rank now as there have ever been. The demand is so prodigiously great now that the second-class guide,or the young fully qualified guide who has made some little reputation for brilliancy, is often employed as leader on work which may easily overtax his powers. There is no more pressing question at the present time in connection with mountaineering, than the proper training of young guides."

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