# My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus (1908)/Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII.
SOME CAUCASIAN PASSES.
HAVING recovered from the effects of the two cold nights described at the beginning of the last chapter, we made up our minds to cross on to the basin of the Dych Su glacier and see whether any convenient and easy route could be found thence to the summit of Shkara. At 4.30 a.m. we left our camp and walked up the Bezingi glacier, halting occasionally to examine the face of the mountain. The endless series of hanging glaciers suspended on its cliffs seemed to threaten so much risk and danger on this side, that we were not in any way tempted to modify our plans. We subsequently saw, however (when ascending Dych Tau), that great glacier plateaux were concealed by the foreshortening due to our position, and that, in reality, the ascent may be effected from this side without venturing on to any serac-swept position. But this knowledge was hidden from us as we tramped up the glacier and passed its endless terraces of glacier cliffs on our way to the Bezingi vsek.
Zurfluh suggested keeping along the ridge from ​the col to the summit—a route which has since been demonstrated to be feasible; but I was impressed by the enormous length of the ridge, and ultimately decided in favour of our original plan. We accordingly plunged down to the glacier at our feet, and half an hour later reached a tangled ice-fall. We could see, below us, the deep trench of the Dych Su glacier, but our Tartar porter evinced a strong objection to a direct descent by the séracs. Zurfluh accordingly clambered up to a little notch in the ridge on our right, and after a brief inspection called on us to follow. Without much trouble we found a way down the rocks, and about 4 p.m. reached a tiny shelf of grass a few hundred feet above the great Dych Su glacier. The Tartar cheerily emptied his knapsack and tramped off down the ice to Karaoul, charged with the duty of buying and cooking a sheep, and getting such bread as the resources of that tiny hamlet afforded. Zurfluh and I, after putting up the tent and setting our soup to boil, prospected for the best way to the top of our peak.
The great glacier down which we had come from the Bezingi vsek, falls into the main Dych Su stream at approximately right angles. Between these two glaciers rise the huge rock buttresses which form the north-eastern pedestal of Shkara. A long couloir, or the rocks at the side of it, obviously gave access to a great glacier region from which we considered the higher ridges of our ​mountain might be attained. On the whole we thought our prospects fairly good, and returned to our camp in the best of spirits.
Early the next morning the camp fire was lit, tea was brewed, and our frugal meal of brown bread duly consumed. Leaving the camp securely packed in the watertight knapsacks, we tramped and scrambled up the slopes towards the plateau we had marked as our first objectif.
The cliffs proved very easy, and our hopes rose as we saw the facility with which we were topping the neighbouring crests. Arrived at the plateau, we found ourselves below a huge wall of ice-bound rock that forms the ridge dividing the shelf we were on, from a vast glacier flowing almost from the summit of Shkara down to the glacier we had descended the previous day. Keeping along our shelf, we advanced merrily till a great buttress of black rock, projecting from the ridge, partially broke its continuity. Either we must round this buttress, a process involving a considerable descent, or we must climb on to the ridge and follow it. We appeared to have covered a great deal of ground, and were obviously at a great height; we concluded, therefore, that we must be somewhere in the neighbourhood of the summit. Acting on this, as it turned out, wholly erroneous supposition, we turned to the cliff, and were soon engaged in really serious work. Ice-glazed rocks, rotten slopes of ​stones only held in position by a cement of ice and snow, were alternated by steep slabs that tested my leader's skill to the utmost. Nearing the ridge we reached an ice slope, up which we had to hew our way with much toil and a great expenditure of time.
A huge cornice overhung the glacier to the north-east of the ridge, and it was with much trepidation that I advanced, carefully held by Zurfluh low down on the other slope, to its very crest, so that we might obtain some knowledge of our whereabouts and the capabilities of our ridge. My position was superb ; through a big hole in the cornice I could look down three thousand feet or more on to the vast unbroken glacier referred to above, whilst on every side the giant ridges stretched away below me to the regions of trees and grass-grown uplands. Far away to the south two cones of snow, a larger cone with a smaller one to the left, could have been naught else than Ararat itself. Never have I looked through clearer air, or been able to trace so distinctly each fold and buttress that bent and twisted the white lines of foam, marking the rushing torrents in the valleys deep below me.
Zurfluh, however, who does not usually appreciate the pleasures of noble scenery, and who failed to realise the extreme solidity of the cornice, or the fact that it was frozen till it could rival the tenacity of iron, urged me to examine the route and come ​down from my aerial perch. To follow the ridge was easy, and, if one trusted to luck and the cornice, would not have involved an impossible amount of time; but we did not care to take this risk, and to hew steps in hard ice, along the steep face below the cornice, would have been the work of days rather than hours. It was evident we had struck the ridge far too soon, and could only escape defeat by the reckless expedient of using the cornice as a high road.
Prudent councils prevailed, and we determined to retreat. From a convenient ledge, formed by a projecting rock, we mapped out various promising routes to the top of our peak; but the extraordinary clearness of the atmosphere, the absence of all wind, and the intense heat, were signs infallible of approaching bad weather. The day, indeed, was ours, but the morrow evidently belonged to the tempests and the snow storms. We ate our lunch in that state of modified happiness which is induced by failure on the one hand, and exquisite scenery, warmth, comfort, and sunshine on the other.
Much care was needed to regain the glacier shelf. The heat of the sun had loosened the bonds of ice by which the crumbling slope was held together. Swift and resistless was the rush of the dislodged rocks now and again upset, and it was always necessary to descend with one's head over ​one's shoulder to see what little jokes the mountain might be seeking to play at our expense.
The last slope, consisting of a most objectionable mixture of loose stones, ice, and snow, we declined to have anything to do with, and, after much labour and search, discovered a precipitous line of rock leading into a tiny couloir. Once in it, we sped through a cloud of snow-dust to the welcome field of neve. Tramping back to the top of the steep slopes that led down to our bivouac, Zurfluh made for the head of the great couloir, and boldly proposed glissading to the bottom. The couloir was bent, and a deep groove, cut by water and falling débris, crossed it from side to side; to glissade the open couloir would, in consequence, have involved a sudden drop into this deeply eroded channel. Zurfluh, to obviate this difficulty, suggested that we should glissade in the groove itself. Its exaggeration of the great bend of the couloir and a variety of minor sinuosities and wriggles, materially reduced the angle of its slope, and compensated, in some measure, for the icy character of its floor.
Zurfluh shot off down the channel, and whisked away round the first corner; he emerged into sight some few hundred feet lower down, and was again lost in another curve. He appeared, however, very comfortable, so I committed myself to the groove. I was swung round corners at a furious pace, and ​more than once was knocked off my feet by a stone frozen into the floor of the gully. Happily at the small bends it was usually possible to check the speed of one's flight, and regain an attitude suited to the self-respecting mountaineer. The final swoop on to the snow face was simply delightful, and I rejoined Zurfluh feeling that an unsuccessful day is not without its compensations; though, doubtless, the company of a daring chamois hunter, and the enjoyment of the methods and dodges appropriate to that sport, had something to do with my feelings of satisfaction.
Reaching our camp, we found the Tartar had not returned, and Zurfluh, depressed by the emptiness of the larder, fell a victim to melancholy. The Tartar, he insisted, had fallen into a crevasse, and was probably at that very moment slowly freezing to death between its icy walls. In vain I pointed out that the Tartar was in the habit of hunting the "big horns" on the glacier, and could, as we had witnessed, see a concealed crevasse with an ease that the best of Alpine climbers might envy. The decease of the Tartar, and the consequential absence of dinner, remained the dominant ideas in his mind, and care and sorrow sat in the deep furrows of his face. Just as it was getting dark, however, he espied a moving spot on the glacier, and our shouts were answered by a voice which did not in any way sound as if it belonged to the dead. ​About 9 p.m. the Tartar arrived, burdened with the many joints of a lamb, some extraordinary rye cakes, and a great bundle of firewood. We pinned a lantern to the roof of our tent, and made a sumptuous meal on cold boiled meat and the most objectionable cakes.
The morning broke with every symptom of coming storm. Long whisps of cloud formed above the ridges, and fitful rushes of wind swept, howling, down the glacier gorges. The Tartar shook his head and said "Karaoul?" and, when we demurred, wrapped his burka round him, and gave us to understand that wind and snow would be our portion on the Bezingi vsek.
Having ascended the steep rocks by which we had previously turned the ice fall, we began the short but very steep descent on to the upper glacier. The ice itself was cut off from the rocks by an incipient, well-bridged Schrund, and through one of the holes in this bridge the Tartar managed to drop his iron-shod stick. Zurfiuh and I regarded the weapon as hopelessly lost, but the Tartar insisted on being tied to the end of our rope and lowered into the chasm. We knocked away the frozen snow, and thought the black depths would prove more eloquent than our speech. Not a bit of it, he seemed to rather enjoy its dark terrors, and we lowered him down till he disappeared from sight. After some twenty feet, a joyful shout suggested that his quest ​had been successful, and we hauled and pulled till the Tartar, with his black hair and beard well powdered with snow and ice, reappeared. He was much delighted at the recovery of his weapon, and gave me several sound slaps on the back, indicative of his affection and goodwill. His satisfaction then took a more pleasing form, and he insisted on taking my knapsack in addition to his own.
Instead of returning by our pass of two days since, we struck up a small glacier leading to a gap a few hundred yards further from Shkara, and perhaps 500 feet higher. Access to it is rather easier for a loaded Tartar, and the descent on the Bezingi side is admirably suited for a glissade.
As we reached the crest a fierce blast of wind buried us in a cloud of frozen snow and flakes of ice, torn from the slopes behind us. We fled before its resistless rush, and, glissading, running, and tumbling head over heels, shot down to the glacier below. Arrived on the moraine, which runs like a path along the side of the glacier, the porter unloaded the firewood, and the bundle was carefully concealed beneath a great stone. The storm, by this time, had enveloped all the ridges in masses of dirty, evil-looking cloud. Portentous growls and long reverberating peals of thunder issued from the impenetrable gloom, suggesting the near advent of rain. We sped along the moraine, or rather Zurfluh and I did; the Tartar seemed to be usually seated on a ​rock waiting for us, so easily could he outpace the representatives of the Alps! Breathlessly we raced up the short ascent to the grassy oasis where stood our camp, and at that very moment a waterspout swept down on us.
In the Alps a wetting is not of much account, but in the Caucasus it is extremely inconvenient, at all events in settled bad weather. The only means of drying clothes is to hang them on the tent ropes, or spread them on warm rocks, methods which are not applicable during the continuance of rain.
We congratulated ourselves loudly over our most opportune return, and then proceeded to overhaul the stores of provisions. It became obvious that a journey to our supplies at Tubeneli in quest of biscuits, chocolate, tea, and soups was essential. The Tartar expressed a cheery readiness to start at once, and we saw him disappear in the deluge. Meanwhile, the shepherd from the pastures opposite rubbed his dagger on a hone, which the careful Zurfluh had brought from Switzerland, as a desirable preliminary to lamb cutlets. The luckless victim, the destined banquet, was still browsing on the luxuriant grass, regardless alike of torrential rain and swiftly-striding doom.
During the afternoon a serious defect in our Whymper tent made itself apparent. At each end, in this make of tent, there is a small hole in the ​roof, through which the poles supporting the structure project. Though these holes are very small, the rain fell in such torrents that enough came through them to form ponds on our waterproof floor. We drained these ponds by cutting holes in our flooring, but, in the narrow space available, it was somewhat inconvenient to have two damp and uninhabitable regions. Zurfluh, in a moment of inspiration, sallied out into the deluge and stuck a boot on the top of each pair of poles. By this ingenious device we were restored to comparative comfort.
Late the next afternoon we saw our porter reappear. A complex arrangement of knapsacks—one in front and one behind—a big load of firewood stuck on anywhere, and a burka skilfully draped round his shoulders and packages, gave him the appearance of an overgrown umbrella, enjoying a quiet constitutional in peculiarly fitting atmospheric conditions.
Shortly before dark a furious south-westerly wind drove the clouds down the valley, and the great peaks emerged resplendent in whitest snow. During the night the wind veered to the north, and terrific blasts threatened the security of our tent. More than once we were forced to adopt drastic measures to save it from total ruin. Happily the clouds and mist were put to utter rout, and at daybreak we could see the last fragments of their beaten host hurrying, helter-skelter, across the Zanner pass.
When I sought to put on my climbing boots, I ​found one of these valuable properties had wholly disappeared. With true wisdom, Zurfluh had used my boots for the ornamentation of the tent-poles, and during the night a more violent gust than usual had carried one bodily away. Subsequent search discovered it submerged in a slimy pool!
The shepherd from the pastures opposite had promised to come over and act as second porter; so, whilst waiting for him, my boot was duly washed, and as much of the internal moisture wiped out as possible; we also utilised Zurfluh's hammer and anvil and drove in hobnails where required. We then passed under review the various remaining joints of boiled lamb, selecting those which had the least offensive and damaged appearance. The knapsacks were at last all packed and ready, but still the shepherd tarried. Finally, at 6 a.m., there being no signs of his arrival, we re-distributed the baggage and started without him.
Our interpreter, almost hidden beneath a gigantic burka, struggled along bravely till we had ascended two or three thousand feet of the screes leading towards the Zanner pass. We began, however, at this point to feel the full strength of the gale, and his allusions to the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob became constantly more frequent, till at length he sank down in a heap and expressed his intention of promptly giving up the ghost. Our party grouped itself in picturesque and recumbent attitudes, and ​watched his proceedings with interest. Gradually, as we recovered our wind, we began to perceive the vanity, not to say chilliness, of this course of action, or rather inaction, and we, in consequence, deputed the Tartar, who always enjoyed a little addition to the day's work, to see the interpreter sufficiently far on his way down to be out of all risk or danger. Zurfluh and I then tramped steadily towards the pass. Before a great time we were overtaken by the Tartar, who reported that the interpreter had quickly recovered so soon as his feet were turned towards the valley.
At 10 a.m. we reached our pass, and saw that though the wind had driven every vestige of mist and fog from the northern slopes, the whole of Suanetia was a sea of matted cloud, out of which the great peaks towered into the sunshine. The wind was terribly cold, so we plunged at once into the damp, heaving vapour below us. It soon became apparent to a fatigued Herr that we were going up hill instead of down. Zurfluh, after I had made sundry protests of continually increasing strength, admitted this fact. He appeared, however, to think that in this topsy-turvy country, where all things go by contraries, that very possibly the best way down was to walk up-hill. My muscles protested against this doctrine, and we retraced our steps some distance. Further investigations showed that by going to the north-east, parallel to ​the main ridge, a gentle descent was begun. As we paced through the mist the angle steadily increased, and crevasses and gigantic pinnacles of ice began to loom through the fog. Zurfluh, forgetting the air of sorrow that befits the Swiss guide in a foreign land, began to rejoice in the struggle. An unknown ice fall shrouded in impenetrable cloud is, indeed, enough to rouse the sporting instinct in any mountaineer.
At one point we were nearly stopped. The sérac, on which we stood, overhung a rock cliff, the bottom of which was lost in the fog. Direct descent was impossible, but the side of the sérac evidently gave access to the rock slope slightly to our right. Zurfluh, however, averred that he had felt the sérac give a premonitory movement, and that the slightest jar, such as that caused by step-cutting, would inevitably send the whole structure in one thundering avalanche to the mist-filled depths below. Zurfluh and the Tartar accordingly retreated to solid footing, whilst, tied to the end of our rope, I managed to cut the steps and scramble on to a smaller sérac, more securely anchored to the slope. The men followed, and we climbed down the rocks to the glacier, urged to our best speed by the knowledge that a sérac might take it into its head to come trundling after us.
The fog, which had been getting thinner, now began to break into detached masses, and every ​now and again we saw the ridges and deep valleys of Suanetia. As we advanced, the great walls of the glacier began to close in on us, leaving merely a narrow gorge, through which the broken ice plunges to the world of grass and flowers and forest.
Thanks to Mr. Freshfield's description of this pass we now knew where we were, and, cheered by the rapidly improving weather, we traversed on to the rocks on the left of the ice fall, and by their aid turned the obstruction. Reaching the lower glacier, we tramped merrily along it, till, about 4.30 p.m., we stepped off the ice into the luxuriant vegetation of the southern slopes.
Our Tartar, having no longer mountaineering difficulties wherewith to occupy his mind, gave us his opinion of the Suanetian race. There was real fury in his voice as he described the wild delight of a hand-to-hand encounter; though on the whole he was clearly of opinion that a more enduring and elastic joy is to be found in skilfully stalking your adversary, and taking pot-shots at him from behind convenient stones. The conversation was illustrated by such wealth of gesture and mimicry, that our almost complete ignorance of his language did not materially interfere with our comprehension. I will confess that my mind was somewhat disturbed by the doubt whether it was prudent to take a warrior of such furious mood into the crowded villages of his hereditary foes.
​We made our way through the thickly wooded slopes of the valley, now and again being almost forced into the boiling torrent in our efforts to avoid the entanglement of the underwood. Gradually the valley opened out, and towards evening we wended our way down rich pastures, shadowed by noble clumps of beech and pine.
Arriving at the first houses, my fears about the Tartar's demeanour were set at rest, his request for direction to the Starshina's residence, if not conciliatory in tone, being shorn of any expressions indicative of his real feelings. By the time we had reached this worthy's house at Mujal it was quite dark. We battered at his door, and, after some delay, rendered exciting by the fierce onslaught of sundry dogs, he appeared and accorded us a ceremonial welcome. Attired in his best clothes, and with an absurd chain, much like an English mayor's, festooned around him, he led the way to the guest-house.
The inky night was made brilliant with eight flaring torches of split pine. In the long procession figured a steaming samovar, and we noted with satisfaction a large basket, within which the eye of faith and hunger detected many good and nutritious substances. As we proceeded, sundry fleet-footed youths were shed from the caravan into the darkness. These youths, we subsequently discovered, had been despatched in quest of Russian ​bread, fresh butter, and milk—dainties which the natives had learnt are appreciated by the hobnailed western. At the end of a somewhat protracted walk we reached the guest-house, and found that one of the fleet-footed youths had preceded us and lit a blazing fire. The cheery, dancing flames fell on the strange faces and curious dresses of our hosts, while the dark, weird shadows that lurked in the remoter corners afforded pleasing cover from which the younger and more bashful natives could watch the proceedings.
Tea, unleavened cakes, and eggs were immediately forthcoming, supplemented, on the arrival of the various breathless youths, by fresh milk, butter, and leavened bread. During the progress of this meal we learnt that the female members of the Starshina's family were engaged in the preparation of a banquet of much complex magnificence. Knowing from past experience that this banquet would probably be ready about 1 a.m., we begged the Starshina to excuse us, alleging fatigue and the need of sleep. One of the active youths was accordingly hurried into the darkness, and I trust succeeded in stopping the culinary efforts and enabled the ladies to obtain their due allowance of beauty sleep. Various elaborate preparations were then made for our comfort; the crowd of visitors were unceremoniously ejected; the mysteries of the bolts and bars were explained; ​elaborate farewells were taken, and we were left to our well-earned rest.
The sun was blazing through the shutters when a tentative rapping at the windows aroused us. Emerging from our sleeping bags, we opened the door and found breakfast awaiting us in the verandah. The guest-house was beautifully situated, well away from the village, and in an open, park-like country. Splendid trees and rippling water-courses were all around us, whilst above towered the great white pyramid of Tetnuld. In the other direction the rocky crest of Ush-ba just showed above the lower ridges. The flickering sunlight through the leaves suggested a delicious feeling of freshness and home, which was further accentuated by a plimge in a neighbouring stream. I then joined Zurfluh in his attention to the good things supplied by our host.
Our quarters were so peculiarly tempting that after breakfast we despatched the Tartar to purchase chicken, bread, eggs, potatoes, and such other luxuries as the resources of Mujal might afford. Meanwhile a native, knowing a few words of French, appeared and told us of the wonders of Ush-ba and the wealth of the Ingur valley. However, our plan was to cross to Chegem, so we deputed our friend to engage two porters to take us to the recognised camp for the Twiber pass.
Two years later I walked and rode along the ​crest of the low ridge which divides the district of Mujal from the main valley of the Ingur. For delightful scenery this ridge has no equal.' Grassy lawns shaded by stately trees and watered by delicious springs, offer perfect camping-grounds. Away to the northward rises the great range dominated by the most majestic peak in the whole region—the double-headed Ush-ba; whilst to the south are the forest-clad valleys and walled villages where the native still looks with suspicion on the stranger. At Scena the oxen may still be seen treading out the corn, and rude winnowing effected by throwing up the grain in the open air, the wooden shovels used for this purpose being carved out of a single pine-log. The women may still be seen grinding the com in quaint hand-mills, and all the associations of the village carry one's mind back to the earliest pioneers of civilisation. So delightful is this region of dense primeval forest, of valleys where the torrents carve their way through the roots of huge pines, of tiny oases of grass, and banks buried in raspberry-canes loaded with delicious fruit, that the mountaineer is apt to lose sight of the path of duty and abandon himself to lazing on the grass and watching the tiny specks of sunlight dancing amongst the foliage.
But my enthusiasm is leading me away from the matter in hand. Early in the afternoon we said good-bye to our host, and strolled up a lateral ​valley through well-timbered slopes. About 4 p.m. we reached a grassy glade surrounded by fine trees and intersected by brawling rivulets. It was an ideal camping-ground, and both Zurfiuh and I felt our day's work was ended. Tall fern suggested luxurious mattresses, and decaying trees a roaring camp-fire. The Suanetian porters, how ever, protested. The proper place to camp was, they said, an hour further up. I went a few yards along the path and emerged on a great open alp. Along the steep slope of the gorge the path could be seen winding upwards through a region of grass, unrelieved by shrub or tree. The delights of the lower camp were irresistible, and I returned to our sheltered glade. The Suanetians still objected. They evidently thought that as they had not got to the regular gîte a corresponding part of their pay would be deducted. Finding this was not the case, they drew their long knives and cut the fern for our mattresses. They then lit a huge fire, and collected such a store of logs and sticks that it would have lasted a frugal Swiss the whole winter.
Next they prepared the chicken, severing the breastbone longitudinally and opening them into flat plate-like objects; these were impaled on long wooden spits and set to cook. As the supplies were abundant, we gave the Suanetians an invitation to dinner. Squatting round the fire we had ​a merry time, and wound up in true Caucasian fashion by an examination of each other's weapons. On their departure, the faces of the Suanetians were illumined by a "schönes Trinkgeld," and after a last shout of farewell they disappeared silently in the forest.
Zurfluh and the Tartar then agreed that chicken are a vain and frivolous food to pack into knapsacks, and that consequently it would be well to consume the remainder of our store. In consequence the rest of the birds were got ready and similarly impaled on the spits. The fire by this time had grown into a vast furnace, more suited for the pedestrian exercise of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego than for the toasting of diminutive chicken. A furious onslaught with our axes, however, sufficed to tear up the decaying roots and other combustible material amongst which the fire was making its way, and to reduce it to such limits that the forest itself was no longer endangered. We then pitched the tent, and felt ready for our supplementary dinner.
When we turned in for the night we found our quarters so luxurious that we half made up our minds to assault a small rock peak at the head of the valley, and thus have an excuse for a second night in this most exquisite glade. Slumber, however, overtook us before these ideas had crystallised into solid resolution, and the next morning we were ​too sleepy to do aught but adhere to our original plan.
Starting before daybreak, we left the forest behind and tramped over the grass and along the right bank of the Twiber torrent. We passed the customary gîte amidst many self-congratulations. A less pleasing camp it would be difficult to imagine, and it was more than doubtful whether water, that first necessity of camp life, could have been obtained. Then the path either gave out or we hopelessly missed it, and we had to scramble along a steep grass slope till, in utter desperation, we clambered down on to the glacier. We broke the monotony of our walk up the ice by violent efforts to scare two chamois that were watching our movements; but they refused to be alarmed by our yells and gesticulations, and were still strolling about the slopes when we lost sight of them in the distance. Reaching the upper glacier, we found that the snow had been drifted into high ridges. The furrows between were at least fifteen inches deep, and walking across them proved so desperately tiresome that we determined to quit the great glacier and make for a very obvious gap on our left. It is true the Suanetians had expressly warned us against doing so. Possibly this partly prompted our decision, for there is always pleasure in running counter to the piled-up knowledge of the wise.
After a considerable ascent over screes, we ​reached a snow slope which led us to the pass. In front was a glacier basin, shut in, to the north, by a low wall of jagged rock. This wall evidently swept round further to the east, and enclosed the head of the glacier. Zurfluh and the Tartar turned to the left, never doubting that our route must lie in that direction. For a moment I could not quite understand where we were, and accordingly a halt was decreed. A few minutes' contemplation then convinced me that the mighty peak, blocking the whole width of the gorge down which the glacier before us wound its way, could be none other than Ush-ba, and that the glacier itself must be the Leksur. It was evident, therefore, that our route must lie to the right, and that we must force our way across the ridge in front if we wished to sup that night with the shepherds of the Bashil Su.
To avoid losing height, we skirted the slopes on our right, and a merely trifling descent led us on to the open glacier. We then began the ascent of a steep wall of frozen snow, which brought us to the uttermost reservoir of the Leksur. It proved, though extremely narrow, to be of considerable length, and we did not reach the ridge till 11 a.m.
A strong wind drove us from the crest of the ridge, and we made a halt on some rocks, a few feet below the pass, on the Chegem side. After half an hour's rest, we climbed down the rocks as far as they were practicable and then took to an ​easy ice slope, covered with some fairly adherent snow, six inches or more in depth. The Tartar found no difficulty in following in Zurfluh's steps, but, unluckily, he waxed impatient at our slow progress, and, without a hint of what he was about to do, stepped boldly out on to the slope. The result may be imagined. In an instant he was on his back, slithering, snake-like, amongst a mass of hissing snow, leaving a long streak of gleaming ice behind him. Immediately in front yawned the open Bergschrund, and Zurfluh's "Herr Gott! er ist verloren" seemed inevitably true. By some extraordinary luck he was shot head over heels across the chasm and came to a stop in the soft snow beyond. We then saw him, much to our relief, pick himself up and begin to dust the snow from his clothes—from which we rightly inferred that he was neither frightened nor hurt. He afterwards sat down contentedly on the snow and enjoyed a quiet rest while we laboriously hacked and hewed our way down to him. Once on the névé, Zurfluh took out the rope and the Tartar was put into efficient leading-strings.
Crossing the smooth basin of the glacier, we found ourselves above a great ice fall. As the native pass of the Bashil led on to this same basin, it was obvious that an easy route must lie on one or other of the banks of the glacier. Unluckily we decided to try the left bank. We got on to the ​rocks without difficulty, and followed a shelf for a short distance. The next step in the descent was less simple. For about seventy feet the cliff was quite precipitous, but it looked as if, this step once surmounted, we could force our way down and regain the glacier below the ice fall.
After some consultation, we determined to face the descent. We knew, of course, that it would save time to retrace our steps, cross the glacier, and descend by the right bank, where it was evident the native path must be. Both Zurfluh and I, however, felt the need of a little real climbing. The knapsack, coats, and axes were accordingly discarded, and we made ready for a piece of work of a sort rarely met with away from the Chamonix Aiguilles. The rocks had been worn smooth by glacier action, but had since weathered along the line of a perpendicular fault. This process, however, had proceeded a little too far, and the rocks at the top of the fault were extraordinarily loose, whilst lower down they had fallen away bodily. After an endeavour to force the descent by this line, we decided it would be too perilous. On the other hand, the glaciated rock on our right was hopelessly impracticable. Dividing these two impassable lines, however, was a precipitous corner. A few of the rents and fissures by which frost and sunshine had shattered the rock in the fault had extended thus far, and by their aid it seemed barely possible to ​descend. I managed to get down about sixty feet, but immediately below this point the rock was undercut, and it was, therefore, necessary to traverse into the gully or fault. This traverse was of a very sensational kind, and had to be made on excrescences well rounded by glacial action. Though they just sufficed to maintain one's equilibrium, they left nothing over for emergencies, and the slightest slip with a foot, or any miscalculation of the frictional resistance of fingers on smooth rock, would have involved my swinging free on the rope. The latter would have been extremely unfortunate, for I must necessarily have swung round the corner and dangled six feet or more from the cliff. It may not be beyond the strength of two men to pull a third up sixty feet, but the experimental determination of this problem did not commend itself to me. By the exercise of much care, I succeeded in safely reaching the fault, and was able to just squeeze into a fairly secure cleft.
I then tied my end of the rope on to a piece of strong string, in order that, by so lengthening it, the lower end could always be held by me, and I could thus check any pendulum movement should the Tartar slip. He showed, however, the utmost skill and resolution, and came down without requiring help of any sort. Indeed, his references to Shaitan were of as trifling and perfunctory a sort as is compatible with a sound and unimpaired belief ​in a future state, Zurfluh next lowered the axes and other luggage, but we found it impossible to store all this impedimenta in the gully. The Tartar, in consequence, had to continue the descent so as to make room for it.
Zurfluh had now to descend. He tried first the line by which we had come, but on closer acquaintance it did not prove very attractive to him. He then tried the fault, but, having sent various fragments unpleasantly near my head, he reverted to our original opinion that the rocks were altogether too rotten. After some further delay, he adopted the expedient of taking off his boots, and these precious articles were lowered with loving care, and I was exhorted to stow them away in absolute security. Bracing his nerves for the final effort, he committed himself to the cliff. He succeeded in descending fairly easily, though on the traverse into the gully he did not reject a proffered hand—an indication of a modest attitude of mind rarely attained by the professional moimtaineer.
Owing to all the room available being occupied with knapsacks, axes, burkas, boots, and the like, I was obliged to follow the Tartar down the crack to give Zurfluh room to sit down and put on his boots. Accordingly, taking the Tartar's knapsack, I began the descent, much encouraged by cheery assurances that the cleft was "ganz leicht." I soon found, however, that the knapsack bulged out so ​far that it was impossible to descend face outwards. An endeavour to go with my face to the rock proved equally perilous. The size of the sack made it quite impossible to look over one's shoulder to prospect the next step, and its weight was so great that the exigencies of balance precluded all possibility of leaning one's body far enough out to see between it and the cliff. Turning round once again, I saw the Tartar on a convenient shelf below, giving me a pantomimic performance, suggestive of the velocity acquired by falling bodies, and of the squashy conditions induced by the sudden impact of the human frame on hard rock or ice. As it appeared just possible to throw the sack down to the Tartar's ledge, I determined to risk that course. So, slipping my arms out of the bondage of detestable straps, and deaf to the urgent entreaties, I might almost say tears, from above, I entrusted the precious sack to the tender mercies of the law of gravitation. The sack reached the ledge with great facility. It strove to check its further fall, stretching its straps over the rock like long sinuous hands, but to my horror I saw its efforts were fruitless, and amidst a lamentable howl from Zurfluh our tent, bedding, and soups disappeared over the cliff. My appreciation of the discomforts involved by its loss was temporarily overbalanced by the delightful ease of movement so attained. The Tartar, wholly indifferent to tents, bedding, or other western luxuries, smiled approval. ​and I gathered from various remarks and gestures that he had ceased from contemplating the lurid horrors of that nether world allotted to the infidel, and was pleased that one more chance was to be granted me of embracing the teaching of the true Prophet and basking through eternity in the delights awarded the faithful.
Zurfluh, I am bound to say, made nothing of the difficulties; with a huge piled-up load on his back he descended in the most brilliant and finished style. Doubtless the wish to point a moral had something to do with the easy grace of his movements. Any way, on his arrival at our ledge, he enlarged in glowing terms on the facility and convenience of the highway by which we had come down.
Reaching the edge of the glacier, we were met by a tangled labyrinth of crevasses. Whilst Zurfluh was studying their peculiarities, I made a short détour to see if the sack was anywhere visible. Greatly to my delight, I soon espied it, high seated on an isolated serac. My companion, ignorant of the vision that had blessed my eyes, and ever pessimistic in his thoughts, urged me to waste no time in a useless search, "for," said he, "the sack is not merely knocked to atoms, but it is of necessity buried in the depths of a crevasse." Needless to say I persisted, and, after some strenuous effort, succeeded in reaching our stored-up treasures. I bore it back in triumph, to the confusion of pessimism and the utter ​rout of all prophetic lamentations. A halt was unanimously decreed to welcome the return of the prodigal; the treasured store of tobacco was extracted from its recesses, and, soothed by the sacred fire, we agreed that all things tend to happiness in this best ordered of worlds.
Preparing to resume the descent, we found ourselves in a position of some difficulty. It would obviously be very dangerous, even if possible, to cling longer to the left bank of the glacier. Immediately below, a tributary ice stream from the great snow fields that lie on the ridge dividing the Adyr and Bashail valleys, dropped over a low rocky wall in a series of almost incessant avalanches, threatening the traveller with very complete annihilation. On the other hand, any attempt to reach the centre of the glacier seemed scarcely possible. The ice in front of us was riven in the most extraordinary way, the merest knife-edges, and flakes of rottenest ice, alone intersecting the blue depths of vast crevasses. Unlike the ordinary broken glacier, where the crevasses may be regarded as merely dividing and breaking up the solid ice, here it seemed as if one great chasm had been frailly partitioned and separated by a shattered network of frozen foam. So unpleasing did these crevasses appear to Zurfluh, that he set off by himself to examine the cliff under the hanging glacier. The Tartar, evidently thinking him ignorant of the danger involved, expostulated ​in loudest tones, calling alternately on Allah and Shaitan to testify to the truth of his warnings. Zurfluh, however, did not go very far. The wall of cliff was too long for a rush, even if it had not been impracticably smooth and steep. We turned perforce to the ice, and after some most thrilling performances of the tight-rope and long-jump character, emerged on the level glacier. I am bound to admit that during this passage the follower of the Prophet moved with a freedom, certainty, and ease, a perfection of balance and an utter disregard of danger, that the unbelievers could not pretend to emulate.
Our difficulties were now over, and a short distance further down, we saw, in the far distance, undoubted cows grazing on the slopes above the glacier. Zurfluh at once broke into a run, pointing out that the cows were evidently on the way to be milked, and unless we could arrive in time to interrupt this process we should find all the milk turned sour. About 6.30 p.m. our frantic efforts were rewarded, and we reached the kosh whilst the milking was in full progress. We succeeded in securing some gallon and a half of delicious milk in our indiarubber water-bag. The pails used by the natives are always sour, and from Zurfluh's point of view entirely spoilt any milk that went into them. It is needless to remark that milking a restive cow into a somewhat narrow-mouthed, collapsible, indiarubber bag is a performance requiring much patience and tact, and ​only to be accomplished by the help of the whole available staff.
These shepherds had so far fallen victims to the spread of luxury that they had built themselves a rough hut of unhewn stones, roofed with great branches of pine. With the unvarying courtesy of the Tartar, they spread their burkas on the floor, and bid us rest beside their fire.
The porter, meanwhile, engaged in negotiations preliminary to the purchase of a lamb, a duty I found it advisable to leave to him, as I am somewhat doubtful about the identification of a lamb, unless duly accompanied by mint sauce and other suitable adjuncts. The only purchase I made on my account was not successful. It was at Bezingi, and the subject of purchase was a chicken. The whole feathered population of the village, each individual held legs uppermost in the hands of its fair proprietress, was passed in review before me. The proper method of selection was indicated by the chief, who prodded the shrieking victims with his finger, occasionally causing such convulsive effort and wing-flapping that, amidst a halo of floating feathers, the subject of purchase would escape, filling the whole village with its cries. Ultimately, after much careful prodding, I decided on three birds, apparently of the most youthful and succulent description. Subsequent sad experience, however, demonstrated the vanity of my efforts. But the ​porter was never at fault. In the present instance he acquitted himself splendidly; he explained to the shepherds how we had faced many desperate perils together, and behaved in a way almost worthy of true believers, and the price of the lamb, in consequence, was fixed at one rouble, which is I fancy the customary local price amongst the natives—at all events the foreigner usually has to pay from two to three and a half roubles.
Invitations were formally issued to the shepherds and one or two odd natives who had strolled up the valley for a chat. Altogether eight or nine of us squatted in front of the fire and watched the hungry flames licking round the big cauldron in which the larger joints were jumping and kicking as if still possessed of life. The thinner portions, impaled on spits, were skilfully roasted in red cavernous hollows below the great sputtering pine logs. The leaping flames lit up the faces of the bearded followers of the Prophet, while our porter gave them a graphic account of the precipitous cliffs and towering séracs amongst which the strange foreigners seemed to delight in wandering. At length the feast began to be ready. In accordance with some strange law of nature feasts of this description always begin with parts of the interior economy of the victim, the revellers slowly working their way outwards through the ribs and winding up with the larger limbs. The extraction of these latter from the boiling cauldron, ​surrounded as it was by scorching flames, was a work requiring much skill, and was watched with breathless excitement by the party.
We slept till late, and found the good-hearted shepherds had once more filled our water-bag with milk. Breakfast under these circumstances was a lengthy business, as Zurfluh felt it a duty to allow none of the precious fluid to be wasted. In deference to this necessity we abandoned the idea of making a pass across the mountains to the Gara Aouzu Su, and determined to merely walk down the valley to Bulungu, where we hoped to find a store of baggage.
We soon reached a small forest, where we indulged in a long siesta in the grateful shadow of the pines. I subsequently had a delightful bathe in the icy waves of the torrent. Lower down we met a native cooper, who was constructing clumsy pails by the laborious method of digging out the inside of a round block of pine till only a hollow tube was left. A groove was then cut round the lower inside edge to hold the bottom. In order to insert this the tube had to be split down one side and pulled slightly open. The bottom being duly fitted, the tube was squeezed together again and rude wooden hoops nailed round. The cooper regaled us with some milk, and seemed much pleased at the interest with which we watched his proceedings.
We found that the upper valley of the Bashil Su ​still boasts a fairly extensive forest, but the ring of the axe sounds ceaselessly amongst it, and the sheep and goats destroy every young tree, so that the forest is shrinking rapidly, rotting stumps attesting its former limits. Passing through the forest, we emerged suddenly on open country, and, shortly after, passed a ruined tower, which, if I understood the Tartar rightly, marks the point where the Suanetian sheep and cattle raiders used, in the old days, to be held in check; presumably, therefore, it marks the point above which sheep and cattle were not, in those old days, ever pastured. Below this point one may seek in vain, not merely for a tree, but even for the smallest bush. As I walked down the valley, I could not resist the conclusion that the presence or absence of forest in the Bashil valley had been determined by the presence or absence of sheep and goats. And though I am doubtless generalising on very insufficient data, I am much inclined to attribute the extraordinary contrast between the treelessness of some of the northern valleys and the dense forests of the southern, less to climatic differences than to the form in which the wealth of their respective inhabitants exists. In the one case oxen, horses, sheep, and goats; in the other, well-tilled and neatly-fenced fields and orchards. Though at first sight it appears difficult to believe that sheep and goats can destroy the forest over great stretches of country, a careful examination of the upper Bashil ​Su shows that the cause is sufficient to produce a continuous contraction of the forest area, and leaves it a mere question of time when the last tree in that valley shall be cut down and burnt.
At Bulungu we found our hoped-for baggage had not arrived, and we were in consequence forced to cross to Bezingi, as our scanty wardrobe was in sad need of replenishment. The next morning we accordingly rode across the low grass pass which connects the two villages. We found on our arrival that the village was en fête, and I promptly received an invitation to join in the festivities. I followed the tall native who had asked me, and we made a fairly straight line to his residence, occasionally scaling one side of a house, walking over the flat grass-grown roof, and dropping down on the other side. Arrived at the scene of the festivity, I was led to a seat provided with great down cushions of a gaudy colour and pattern, and left to watch the proceedings. The youth and beauty of Bezingi, attired in silk dresses and trousers of various and brilliant hues, were gathered in force, but, as sometimes happens nearer home, dancing men were very scarce; a strong tendency to lean up against convenient doorways and shirk their duty having to be combated with much vigour by the stewards of the ceremony. The chief's son, and an individual who appeared to be his cup-bearer, proved, however, indefatigable in their exertions. The ladies disappeared between each set ​of dances, and, during these intervals, we had the Daghestan sword-dance and other similar performances.
At the conclusion of these festivities we rested ourselves preparatory to once more assaulting the great pinnacle of Dych Tau. Our experiences thereon have already been described.