# My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus (1908)/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX.
THE AIGUILLE VERTE—BY THE CHARPOUA GLACIER.
AS Burgener and I were coming across the Col du Géant early in 1881 it appeared to us that the ascent of the Aiguille Verte might be effected by the south-western face; a convenient couloir leading right up to the western ridge of the mountain from the head of the Glacier de Charpoua. Burgener was, indeed, so struck with the possibilities of this route, that he could hardly believe such a promising line had not already been taken by some of the diligent searchers after new ascents. These fears were, I assured him, quite groundless, and on our arrival at Chamonix they were finally set at rest.
After a long discussion we decided to make a midnight start from the Montenvers, for I had not, at that early period, seen the folly of spending the hours of night in painful tumbles into holes and crevasses. Burgener with the wisdom of age, and skilled in the art of sleeping soundly at temperatures which would keep his Monsieur dancing ​a hornpipe all night, was in favour of a bivouac. He yielded, however, to the sound principle that "he who pays the piper has a right to call the tune."
During the afternoon of the 29th of July I walked up to the Montenvers, and at eleven o'clock the same night we got our ropes and provisions together and set out along Les Ponts. We lost a good deal of time coaxing our lantern, which refused to burn properly, and we subsequently entangled ourselves among the irritating crevasses by which the eastern side of the Mer de Glace is intersected. We then scrambled up the evil stones of the lateral moraine on to the slopes beneath the Glacier de Charpoua. Here Venetz had to acknowledge that he was unwell. I took his knapsack and he struggled on for about half an hour more. It was then perfectly plain that he would not be able to make the ascent, and it was consequently altogether useless to let him drag himself up the atrocious slopes of loose stones we were ascending. We held a council of war, and Venetz was submitted to searching inquiries as to the nature, source, and extent of his maladies, and these appearing to be limited to a sick headache and bad indigestion, we decided that he might safely be left to make his way home at daybreak.
Burgener was, however, doubtful whether we were sufficiently strong to make the ascent by ​ourselves, the more so as it would be impossible to return the same way and we should have to descend by Mr. Whymper's route. Unluckily, neither of us were exactly acquainted with it, though we knew in a general way that a big couloir led to the Talêfre glacier. Some one suggested as an alternative that we should try the Dru; but this did not find favour in our eyes, and we started upwards with no very definite plans. Reaching the Glacier de Charpoua, we struck on to the ice and discussed our plans in earnest, finally deciding to examine the merits of our couloir. We mutually disclaimed any intention of making the ascent, but still we would go far enough to see if it were worth a second attempt. Later in the day, having our hearts warmed by the near neighbourhood of the summit and a bottle of Bouvier, we confessed that some faint hope of climbing the peak had cheered us on our way. But to return to my story, Burgener, inwardly intending to do a good day's work, handed over the lantern to me as he did not wish to fatigue himself prematurely. We found the glacier a good deal crevassed, and many steps had to be cut, but by daybreak we reached the tongue of rocks which splits the Glacier de Charpoua into two arms. This tongue is now better known as the upper Dru gîte, and is frequently used by parties ascending that mountain. It is needless to add that our route to this point is not that which ​experience has subsequently shown to be the best and which is now invariably followed. This latter does not touch the Charpoua glacier at all, the ascent being made by endless slopes of loose stones.
We halted for half an hour in order to see the sun rise and to have some breakfast. We also carefully hid away our lantern and otherwise made ourselves ready for serious work. As far as the first Bergschrund we met no difficulty, but on reaching this huge chasm at 5.30 a.m. it appeared as if further progress was absolutely barred. It stretched right across the glacier, and the rocks on either side were wholly impracticable. However, at one point we found that the thick covering of winter snow had not actually fallen, but had only sunk some fifty feet into the chasm, and being protected from the sun's rays, had not yet wholly melted. It was a fragile structure, in some places punctured by round holes from which depended long icicles, and in others was a mere glazing of ice a quarter of an inch thick. When an axe was thrust through these weak places, most soul-shuddering depths were disclosed. It so happened that the only point at which it was possible to descend on to this bridge was well to the right, whilst the only possibility of scaling the opposing wall of the Schrund was far away to the left. We were in consequence forced to pick our way along the rickety structure for a hundred yards or more. Once or twice the jar of ​our passage caused a few loose icicles to rattle into the darkness below, at which Burgener emitted ejaculations of horror. Despite these shocks to our nerves, we reached the base of a detached sérac, the top of which was connected by a fantastic imitation of a flying buttress with the firm ice beyond the Schrund. After cutting a few steps, and aided by a shove from Burgener, I scrambled on to the sérac and hauled at the rope as the sheet anchor of the party followed. We then wormed our way like caterpillars along the flying buttress, distributing our weight as far as possible and expecting at every moment that the brittle structure would collapse. Happily, after the invariable habit of ice early in the morning, it proved as rigid as iron, and we tramped steadily up to the second Bergschrund, which we passed without difficulty. The third turned out to be even worse than the first. Its lower lip overhung in the most provoking manner and necessitated the utmost caution in even approaching it, whilst the upper lip rose in a clean, precipitous cliff of blue ice some seventy feet above our heads.
We unroped, and Burgener went to the right to prospect for a possible line, whilst I went to the left. After a while Burgener shouted that it would not go on his side, but by great good fortune I had caught sight of a spot on my side that looked as if it might be forced. After crawling along a sharp ​knife-edge dividing the Bergschrund from a wide crevasse, we reached this desirable spot. The extremely steep slope above had been cut into a deep gully by the constant fall of stones, ice, snow, and water. The floor of this gully was some twelve feet lower than the remainder of the slope, and the falling débris had built up a cone underneath, exactly where it was wanted. The overhanging ice-wall was reduced by this arrangement to a manageable height of about ten feet, and Burgener decided that it could be climbed. He promptly made me a good step on the top of the cone and cut some hand holes in the wall opposite. I found on reaching the cone that it was cut off from the cliff opposite by a gap about four feet wide; leaning across this and putting my hands into the holes cut ready for me, I formed an insecure sort of bridge. Burgener then proceeded to climb up my body and on to my shoulders. He did not seem to think much of the stability of the human edifice thus raised, and his step-cutting was correspondingly slow. Indeed, so hard were the nails in Burgener's boots, so cold the ice to my fingers, and so interminable the chipping, that to my disordered imagination it seemed as if eternity itself must be rapidly drawing to a close.
At length, three steps below the lip and one above, with all the necessary hand-holds, were duly completed, and Burgener, bidding me hold fast, gave a half-spring and scrambled up the steps over ​the lip and on to the slope. I was soon so battered by the lumps of ice hewn out by his axe that I withdrew from the cone and waited till such time as I should be wanted. The floor of the gully was exceptionally hard, and it was quite twenty minutes before the rope was taut and Burgener told me he was ready. The ascent of the lip was not easy, but once above it, an excellent staircase led me up to him. The gully in which we now stood being the track of stones and all the other good things the Verte keeps in store for the faithful, we decided to force our way out of it on to the slope. This was only effected after very great difficulty, the walls of the gully being so deeply eroded that it was impossible to stand on the steps without hand-hold, thus leaving only one hand to wield the axe. Once on the slope, we made straight for the nearest rocks, the ice being so terribly hard and steep that it was absolutely essential to get off it as soon as possible.
It was obvious that the easiest line up the cliff in front was well to our left, a line moreover that had previously been indicated to me by Mr. Eccles as affording the easiest route, but in the then state of the slopes, it was impossible to reach it without most undue loss of time, and we struck into a rock gully hoping to be able to traverse higher up. We climbed this, finding the rocks very rotten and a good deal glazed with ice; it was also the track of falling stones, and an occasional hum warned us to look out. ​Higher up the ice-glaze thickened so much that we had to cut shallow steps, but we were able to make fairly rapid progress, and soon scrambled out of the gully on to a shelf of rock overlooking the great snow couloir.
I was glad to take off the two knapsacks I had been carrying, and, as an excuse for a halt, we both pretended to eat. Possibly the extraordinary appetite climbers appear to exhibit on mountains is in no small degree due to their desire for the halt involved. Food on the higher ridges and "the view" on the lower slopes appear to be much enjoyed by individuals short in wind and flabby in muscle.
After half an hour's halt we tied up again, and I paid out the rope whilst Burgener traversed to the left, in part along some big slabby rocks, and in part on the upper edge of a more or less treacherous crust of ice abutting on them. Eventully we had both to be on the traverse together. Burgener, however, succeeded in hitching the rope over a big splinter above us. As this operation seemed to afford him great pleasure, I thought it would be cruel to object, though, as the splinter wobbled most ominously with the slightest pressure, I prudently unhitched the rope before venturing below it.
Reaching the snow couloir, we began to go at a tremendous pace. Burgener's axe hewed out huge frozen lumps that acquired great velocity before ​they reached me, and one or two heavy blows from them suggested that it was desirable to have something less than one hundred feet of rope between us. I therefore closed up to my leader, and we shortened the rope. As the work of cutting steps at this rate was very severe, I took Burgener's coat in addition to the knapsacks.
On our left was the huge trench which innumerable avalanches had graven in the slope, and more than once Burgener led us to the edge hoping to see some vulnerable point where he might force a passage. For the couloir is shaped like a huge Y of which we now occupied the tail. Our only hope of success lay in ascending its left or northern limb, but the avalanche trench led up to the inaccessible southern branch, and we, being on its right, were edged ever away from our true line of ascent. Its walls, however, were so eroded and undercut that we dared not attempt the traverse, and in consequence, on reaching the point where the couloir divides, we found ourselves to the right of and beneath the right-hand branch. A moment's glance was sufficient to dismiss any lingering hopes that it might prove practicable, and we turned with one consent to the left.
The couloir had by this time ceased to be a great walled-in gully, and was little more than a slight depression in the face of the mountain. Owing, perhaps, to this, it was no longer filled with deep ​snow, but was merely plastered to the depth of a few inches; the alternations of sun and frost had converted this, for the most part, into ice. It is needless to say that here the avalanche trench thinned out to insignificant proportions, and we were able to effect its traverse without difficulty. The stones, however, being no longer deflected into a well-marked track, hummed past our ears in any but a pleasing manner, and one, which struck a crag just above us, burst into splinters, both Burgener and I being hit by the fragments. Under these circumstances my companion made most desperate efforts to get out of range, and, as usually happens when he exerts his strength to the full, the axe gave way, its handle breaking in two. I promptly handed over mine, but unfortunately it was blunt and called forth many uncomplimentary remarks concerning amateurs and London-made axes. None the less it did its work, and we got into the northern branch of the couloir, where we were comparatively safe.
This proved to be filled almost entirely with ice, so we struck on to the rocks on our right as soon as it was possible to effect a lodgment. Burgener, being greatly excited by an almost-won victory, and being, moreover, unburdened by any luggage, and free from the chest-contracting bondage of a coat, dashed up at a pace that called forth pitiable gasps from his Monsieur. The latter began to realise that a porter's "lot is not a happy one, happy ​one," and that two knapsacks, with a coat as a superstructure, are apt to jam between projecting rocks, and impale themselves on every sharp splinter that exists within a radius of six feet, in addition to the steady drag exerted by their weight. Burgener, however, was not to be checked, and his only reply to my entreaties was to jodel with fierce derision at the easy cliff which still rose before us. Our racing pace soon brought us to a little snow ridge which led, in about three minutes, to the great ridge connecting the Dru with our summit. This gradually broadened into a wide, hard-frozen causeway, up which we tramped arm in arm to the summit.
My first impulse was to shake myself free from the load I had been carrying, Burgener's was to run along the ridge leading towards the Aig. du Moine in order to examine the route by which we were to descend. He returned in great glee, saying that it was all "bares Eis," and that I should be remarkably stiff next day, referring to a solemn compact I had made to do such step-cutting as might be requisite on the way down.
Meanwhile I had unpacked the knapsacks, and we stretched ourselves on the snow to eat our lunch and revel in the glorious view which this rarely visited peak affords. Burgener then attempted to splice his broken axe. Though his efforts in this direction dismally failed, he succeeded in making as deep and ugly a cut in the fleshy part ​of his thumb as one could wish to see, and the remainder of our time had to be expended in its repair. Owing to these various operations we spent one hour and twenty minutes on the summit, and it was not till 1.30 p.m. that we started on the, to us, wholly unknown descent to the Jardin. We began, rightly or wrongly I hardly know, by descending towards Les Droites, and, on reaching the head of the great couloir, we swung round and cut our way down extremely steep ice to a patch of rocks that gave us footing and enabled us to look about. Below us a line of rock broke at intervals through the ice of the couloir, and as the slope was not very steep, and time pressed. Burgener suggested a novel method of procedure. First I lowered him on the rope to the next patch of rock, and then, with the confidence of youth, I glissaded down, Burgener skilfully "fielding" me when I got within his reach. In sections where this process was not admissible, we hitched the rope and slid to the next suitable rock. By these and other similar methods, and almost without cutting a step, we descended the whole length of the great couloir to the point where the rocks of the Moine ridge project far into the couloir, nipping it till it resembles a fashionable lady's waist. The outermost series of these rocks is separated from the main mass by a narrow gully partly glazed with ice, but so precipitous that any falling stones would keep well beyond the heads and other belongings of ​enthusiastic climbers. Down this gully we now proceeded to climb, and after one or two rather awkward scrambles we emerged on the broad slope which lies between the lower part of the two huge buttresses forming the walls of the great couloir. We found the slope covered with well compacted, hard frozen snow, and proceeded cheerily, chipping little steps, till at 4 p.m. I was pulled up by an appalling Bergschrund.
Burgener, who was sixty feet above me, advised cutting right down to the very edge of the chasm to see whether the débris of the broken axe and a looped rope would enable us to baffle the enemy. When I got to the extreme verge of the cliff, I found it overhanging to such an extent that, beyond seeing that no rope in our possession would reach to the bottom, no useful information could be obtained. Burgener, with his usual resource, then made himself a large step, and bid me make my body rigid and allow him to lower me out to such a distance as would enable me to see whether any convenient method of turning the obstruction was within easy reach. With the exception of some séracs far to my right and almost close to the great buttress, the overhanging ice wall was unbroken; to the left a promontory of ice hid everything from view. Having made these observations I yelled to Burgener to pull me back, and we proceeded to consider what was to be done. The séracs on the right were only to be reached by a ​prolonged traverse, which, with a single axe in the party, was not exactly pleasant. So we decided for the invisible slope on the left. After cutting about two hundred steps, I reached a small crevasse intersecting the slope at right angles to the Bergschrund, and Burgener, who was close behind me, shouted, "Es geht."
We then proceeded to bury ourselves in this small crevasse, and having descended by steps cut on one side and our heads resting against the other as far as its ever narrowing walls would admit, we squeezed along, wedged between the icy walls, till we emerged on the face of the great cliff. At an inconvenient distance in front a great flake of ice had parted from the main mass, leaving a sharp knife-edge of weathered ice, parallel to the cliff but rather below our present position. Burgener promptly decided that the intervening space could be jumped, and that he could hold me even if I failed to effect a lodgment on the sérac. The method to be adopted was to jump in such a way as to land on the knife-edge with the hands, whilst the feet were to scrape down the inside of the sérac, trusting that its rotten and decayed surface would afford sufficient hold to the boots to materially reduce the strain on the hands.
Having, with grievous damage to my hands, accomplished this jump, I cut a big step for Burgener to alight on. Owing to his greater girth he ​found he could not squeeze so far down the crevasse as I had been able to do, and had, in consequence, a longer jump to make. However, he landed in the neatest way possible, and we went along the knife-edge to the extreme end of the sérac. There was still a drop of at least forty feet before we could reach the open glacier, and we turned to the crevasse between the serac and the ice cliff to help us down. Whereas the first crevasse had been too narrow for comfort, this erred in the opposite direction, and the first ten feet had to be descended by cutting steps and hand-holds. It then became possible to reach the opposing wall with one's head, and descent could once more be made with reasonable facility. Reaching the level of the glacier, a long sideways jump landed me on the open snow, and our troubles were over. Without wasting time—for the passage of the Bergschrund had cost us two hours' work, and it was now six o'clock—we raced down to the Couvercle as fast as our legs would carry us. We reached that desired haven in ten minutes! It is needless to say that in those places where we could not glissade, we ran at our top speed. The excitement of the climb being over, a rapid increase in the decorum of our march took place, and on each of the moraines of the Mer de Glace we found it desirable to rearrange the luggage, contemplate the view, or engage in some other equally important occupation that involved a five minutes' rest on a flat stone. Owing to these ​various delays it was nearly eight o'clock before we re-entered the Montenvers. Venetz met us at the door and bitterly bewailed the loss of the expedition, but we poured balm into his injured soul by promising that he should climb as much as he liked on the Grépon.