The morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1899-1930, 1908-03-21


OF the Face Of the Monk--A Face
Hideous. Sardonic, Devilish and
cowled Like a Christian Monk.
Even now, at home in safe and
placid England, the dreadful face Of
the Monk sometimes appears before
my mind. And even now II exer-
cises on my spirits SOLDERING, If no
longer terrifying influence. For II
brings with it an acurate sense Of all
that is etcrnally cruel and irrevocablc
and malign in the natural forces OF
the world. There Is something In the
malignant grin upon his heavy, beard
cd, lips. in the unwavering stare Of his
hollow eyes, in the immobility and
silence Of the white world around him,
that is pitiless and contcmptuous OF
poor human hope and effort.
The Monk, known also as the Cap
ucinc, snow-clad mountain in the
Bernina range OF the Alps, in the En-
gadine. derives its name from the
fact that its whole surface. from peak
TO base, facing the Roseg glacier, pre-
sents the shape and appearance OF a
gigantic human face, the features OF
which are presented full-front and are
surmounted by monks cowl.
] shall never forget my first sight
OF the face Of the Monk. II was on
clear and lovely July night--an En-
gadinc summer night in all its crisp
moonlit beauty. From the deep win
dows OF the Kronenhof | was gazing
up the Roseg Valley to the great am
phithea,re OF mountains, so majestic
in their distant snow-covcrcd soli-
tudes, their outlines clear-cut against
a sky sparkling with stars.
Suddenly, amid that scene OF mar
velous beauty, face sprang as II we're
into my field Of vision--a face hideous
sardonic, devilish and cowlcd like a
Christian monk. Often as must
have gazed in that direction. had
never grasped that likeness before.
Never again did ! fail to see in il the
one outstanding, dominating feature
Of that side OF the Bcrnina range,
was a young climber then; it was,
therefore. not unnatural that when,
with Murray, set out to climb the
Piz Roseg-my first big snow noun
tain--the natural awe which such reg
ions cannot fail to inspire was mingl-
ed in my imagination with the sense
of the existance OF a hidden force. i'm
passively hostile and relentlessly
cruel. which had to be fought against
and overcome.
One o'clock on starry night in
August found us and our two guides
descending by the aid of two candle
lanterns the steep rocks leading from
the Mortcl hut to the Roseg glacier.
Never shall / forget that first weird
experience of traversing icefalls by
candle light-thc blackness Of the
crevasses. the eccentric movement OF
writhing shadows on the ice, Still
less shall | forget the haunting sense
of the evil presence of the Monk,
family dscerniblc on our right, whose
domain we were invading. Then /
remember that quite suddenly, be-
hold it was day, glorious and cloud
less. We had wakened, as il were,
in the very heart OF a shining world
of ice This is one OF the great NOM
ents of a climb. 1t is an experience
reserved solely for those who climb
It is the thought of this particular
divine moment even more than the
triumph of the conquest of peak
which calls the climber back again
and again to the mountains. Then
at length, we reached the first couloir
The blows of Andres ice AK, the tin
kle-tinklc of the falling chips of ice
as they streamed down past our feet
now began, the remainder OF us stand.
ing idly in the steps and advancing
slowly one step higher whenever .
fresh step had been cut in the steer
slope OF ice. Occasionally the pace
would be hastened on patch oi
hardened snow, in which steps could
be simply kicked, but on the whole
there was rather more hard ice thar
we had bargained for, and the wait;
after each step grew monotonousl,
| long.
During all this time our backs hat
been to the Monk, and only once, as