A SUMMER DAY'S JOURNEY.
AFEW days ago, a party of English folks, three of whom were ladies, went (by Visp and St. Nicklaus) from Geneva to Zermatt, with the intention, after making a short sojourn there, of returning by the road they had come. They had no idea of doing anything more adventurous in the way of climbing than going up the Gorner Grat, a feat that men sometimes per- form on mule-back, and women in a chaise a porteur. But it is hardly possible to do so much,—to behold, near at hand, the
dark frowning beauties " of the Matterhorn, the glittering peaks of the Dent Blanche, the Cima di Jazi, Castor and Pollux, and the Dufourspitze ; the imposing masses of the Monte Rosa, the Breitborn, the Rothhorn, the Weissthor, and the Matterjoch,—without wanting to go further and see more; and it did not require much solicitation on the part of a guide, who bore the picturesque and peculiarly Swiss name of Aufden- blattern, to persuade the men of the party to attempt the ascent of the Breithorn. Then somebody suggested that we might cross over the Th6odule Pass, into the Val Tournanche, -and return to Geneva by Aosta and the Great St. Bernard. The guide-books said that the journey presented no serious difficulty, and that it was often undertaken by ladies, who _generally rode to the foot of the Great Th6odule glacier, whence the walk to the inn at Le Breuil is under five hours. This proposition finding general acceptance, it was resolved accordingly; but Aufdenblattern, being of opinion that the ascent of the Breithorn and the Matterjoch (Th6odule) on con- secutive days might be too much, we arranged to substitute for the former excursion a visit to the Schwarz-See and the Ifornli. " If we felt equal to it," said the guide, " we could ascend the Breithorn from the Matterjoch, and still reach In Breuil th'e same evening." Going down the Riffieberg, we met a German student and an American tourist (whose acquaintance we had made at the Mont Cervin Hotel), accompanied by a guide, and -equipped for an Alpine excursion. They were on their way to the Riffel Hotel, where they were to stay the night, and start the following morning for the Breithorn. They expected to be back at Zermatt the next afternoon.
All this time the weather, if not brilliant, was passable, but Thursday, July 19th, began gloomily, and ended with rain. At the Schwarz-See a few flakes of snow fell; the Matterhorn was barely visible, and the HOrnli so shrouded in mist, that we did not think it worth while to go to the top. In the evening we held a consultation with the guides as to the feasibility of our projected journey. Both thought the morrow would be fine; the barometer, though low, was steady, and it was finally decided that, if it did not rain, we should rise at two, and start at three. Everything was ordered accordingly, and, the skies being propitious, the night-porter roused us a few minutes before two. Half-an-hour later, we were breakfasting by candle-light, and at three sharp all was ready for a start. Our party consisted of three ladies on mules, three men on foot, two guides, and a porter. In ordinary circumstances, one guide would have been enough ; but as one or two of the ladies might possibly require help in crossing the glaciers, Aufden- blattern had suggested that it would be well to take a second guide, and the sequel proved the wisdom of the precaution.
We walked fast, occasionally taking a near cut, and always keeping up with the mules. As we went on, the sky, which at two o'clock was clear and lighted up by a brilliant moon, became overcast, the moon disappeared, and the sun remained invisible. Only once was his position marked in the eastern horizon, by a purple haze ; then all was gloomy again, dark clouds stretched from peak to peak without a single break, and the Matterhorn, Rothhorn, Breithorn, and Lyskamm were hidden in a sombre haze. Shortly after crossing the brawling Furggenbach, we entered a wild and wind-swept ravine, and from the mist that rolled down its sides there came a few flakes of snow, an ominous bode of which, however, the guides made light ; they still thought that the day, if not brilliant, would be sufficiently fine to admit of the Matterjoch being crossed in comfort. After riding and walking some three hours, we reached a point—about thirty minutes from the foot of the great Th6odule glacier—where, as the snow lay rather deep in the hollows, it became necessary to dismiss the mules. They had scarcely gone when it began to snow in real earnest, and we found it desirable to take refuge under an overhanging rock, and there discuss what was best to be done,—whether we should advance or retreat. Aufden- blattern thought we had better retreat. If the party were com- posed exclusively of guides and experienced mountaineers, be said, he would advise going on ; seeing, however, that we bad ladies with us, the more prudent course was to return to Zermatt. So we left the shelter of the friendly rock and set our faces towards the valley ; but we had not gone far when the wind fell somewhat, the snow abated, and the- signs became so much more favourable that the two guides, after a long discussion, came to the conclusion that we might safely resume our journey. The Th6odule but was only two- and-a-half hours' distant, it would surely be fine for that time, and once there, we should have food, fire, and shelter. On this we retraced our steps a second time, and were soon climbing a steep snow-slope ; and after toiling up a boulder-strewn moraine, we reached the foot of the glacier. Then the weather became bad again, and the further we went the worse it grew. But we were now four hours from Zermatt, only two from the hut, and it was easier to go on than to go back ; and we went on,—on through the blinding snow, which the fierce foe/or drove right in our faces, down our necks, and up our coat-sleeves. Every hundred yards or so we turned to draw breath and rest a few minutes on our alpenstocks. Six of the party were roped together, one of the guides leading ; the other guide brought up the rear with a lady who required all his help. The view before and behind did not extend more than fifty yards ; nothing could be seen licit snow, and as the mist settled down more and more, the guides seemed to grow uncertain as to their whereabouts. They stopped, looked anxiously round, and tried the echo. It was an anxious moment ; for to more than one of the party a few hours' exposure to that biting blast and blinding snow might have been fatal. But a few minutes later an upright stick which served as a guide post was perceived, then the dark rocks of the Little Matterhorn loomed dimly through snow and cloud, and Aufdenblattern cheered us with the hope that in half an hour more we should reach the hut. But the pull up to the but was the hardest of all. The path was steep, the snow lay in wreaths, at every step we sank up to the knees, the wind felt like a wall, and if the but had been an hour further off, some of us might never have reached it at all. At the door we met the German student and the American traveller. They had utterly failed in their attempt to ascend the Breithorn, been nearly lost in a snowstorn, and, unable to get down to Zermatt, had passed the night in the hut. They had seen us coming, and were now hurrying away in order to take advantage of the track we had made, before it became obliterated by the snow. The hut, in reality a small anberge, is about sixteen feet by ten ; at either end of it there is a small bedroom, each containing three beds ; and after thawing our beards, which were frozen solid, and getting something to eat, most of us went to bed, while our clothes were dried.
Until four o'clock in the afternoon the storm continued with undiminished violence, and there seemed every probability of our having to pass the night in the anberge; but at length the snow ceased, the wind went down, the sun came out, and the guides urged us to profit by the lucid interval to get down to Le Breuil. The crossing of the Lower Theodule glacier was not unpleasant, for though the snow lay deep, the descent was easy and the view superb. But we had not left the glacier-foot many minutes when the heavens were again darkened, mists clothed the mountain-tops, and rose up from the ravines, the rain came down in torrents, and we reached the Hotel du Mont Cervin, at Le Brenil, wet to the skin, yet safe and sound. In the salon of the little inn, we found, sitting before a blazing fire, three Englishmen, who had been beaten in an attempt to reach Zermatt by the Cime Blanche,—and so ended our summer day's journey.
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