Col de Talèfre
Next day, Tuesday, August 19, I went to Montanvert, a starting point for numerous fine excursions, but that and the following day it rained and rained, and all was gloom amongst the climbers there assembled. It is, however, always darkest before dawn, and the dawn came, temporarily at least, on Thursday, August 21, in the shape of very fine weather. But the new snow had rendered the best rock climbs impossible for the present, and this seemed eminently the time for me to cross one of the snow passes leading from the Mer de Glace, or its tributaries, into Italy and incidentally visit the village of Courmayeur, charmingly situated on the southerly side of Mont Blanc. Having heretofore crossed the Col du Geant (the pass usually taken) , I chose the Col de Talèfre. Leaving Montanvert we proceeded a certain distance up the Mer de Glace, then turning to the left climbed some rocks, reaching in three hours the Couvercle hut, where we spent Thursday night. On the way we were startled by a loud noise, the result of the sudden collapse of several ice towers of an adjoining glacier, weighing hundreds of tons. A similar occurrence on the Brenva Glacier in Italy had a week before occasioned the death of an unfortunate porter.
The Couvercle is situated on the slopes of the Aiguille du Moine at an elevation of about 9.000 feet in immediate proximity to some of the best scenery in the Alps, the dominant peaks being Mont Blanc (which in my opinion presents a finer appearance from this, its easterly side, than any other), the Grandes Jorasses and the Aiguille Verte, with its splendid continuing ridges already referred to, Les Droites and Les Courtes. In whatever direction the eye turned, it met an impressive sight. The sunset was a splendid one and then came twilight followed by brilliant moonlight. Scenes of this sort to be appreciated must be witnessed, for „in beauty they far exceed anything that may be imagined by those not acquainted with them; and however glorious these mountains may be by day, yet he who has not seen them also by moonlight knows but a part of their splendor.
Once before I had spent a night at the Couvercle, namely in 1889, when I climbed the Aiguille Verte, but then there was no hut, only a great overhanging rock under which we slept — or tried to sleep. Now we found a small but comfortable hut which on the night of August 21 sheltered several parties of climbers. I retired last and had my mattress placed on the floor of the ante-chamber where I could control the ventilation. Though the air without was crisp, yet the door remained open a bit during the night and thus we slept soundly until 3 o'clock, when we arose and breakfasted. An hour later we went out into a scene of great beauty and began our climb as moonlight was giving way to early dawn. When in 1889 we started from the Couvercle for the Aiguille Verte, we had a very hard day before us, the event of which remained uncertain until half an hour before we reached the summit, for the mountain proved to be an extremely difficult and dangerous one, nor was I surprised to learn that in some of the succeeding years, including this one, it could not be climbed at all. To-day's excursion was of a totally different character, and we were almost certain to accomplish it with relative ease.
The Col de Talèfre, as seen in the distance, resembles a tall, narrow strip of snow between the Aiguilles de Talèfre and de Triolet. The walk to the foot of it was a beautiful one over gradually rising snowfields, and as the sky was cloudless I was again enabled to witness one of those wonderful sunrises which can be seen only at high altitudes. No difficulties whatever were encountered until we were about 300 feet below the top of the pass, when the fresh snow on the final slopes gave us some trouble, as it had several times elsewhere earlier in the season, and we were an hour covering this short distance. On the summit, which we reached at 7.40, a magnificent view of „Sunny Italy“ suddenly burst upon us, and with it also a very rapid increase in the temperature, which rose from below the freezing point to 70 degrees, or thereabouts. We realized at once that the heat of the sun on the Italian side was already playing havoc with the snow slopes which we were to descend, and as they contained many hidden crevasses, we felt that we could not attack them too soon, so we left at once, and until 10.30 were struggling with rather trying conditions. We constantly sank deep into the snow, and were compelled to spend much time in dodging and circumventing a number of those deep fissures of which Tyndall has so rightly said that „to be killed in the open air would be a luxury compared with having the life squeezed out of one in the horrible gloom of these chasms.“ Not until 10.30, when we were off the snow, did we sit down for our first meal since 3.30 a. m. Usually one partakes of food every three or four hours; to omit doing so for seven hours is against the rules of the game and the longings of nature, but sometimes, as here, it becomes necessary to suffer awhile from hunger in the interest of safety. We were walking till about 2, when we came to the highroad leading down the Val Ferris, whence we drove in a cart to Courmayeur. Almost our last act was to wade a waist-deep glacial stream which the fresh snows had converted into a torrent.
It was our plan to start the following day for Mont Blanc and ascend it from the Italian side by the Miage Glacier. All arrangements were made accordingly, but the weather again put in its veto and compelled us to take twenty-four hours of rest we did not feel we required. They did not, however, pass at all unpleasantly. Courmayeur is beautifully located and is, furthermore, only twenty-five miles distant from the interesting town of Aosta, and since an excellent automobile service exists between the two places, I was able to spend the afternoon visiting Roman ruins, enjoying, incidentally, delightful rides down and up the valley. The dust on the highroad was laid by laborers splashing water on it from a gutter by means of spades with long handles. Courmayeur possesses an excellent hotel, also the usual long, narrow street, closely lined with shops of every description. Amongst the articles for sale I noticed „Elixir La Brenva,“ named after the glacier, regardless of the fact that the Brenva route to the summit of Mont Blanc is one of the deadliest in the Alps and had only the previous week claimed another victim. High heels and hobble skirts were much in evidence in this primitive Italian village, nor was their use confined to the summer visitors. The hours subsequent to 12 noon were designated by the numbers 13 to 24 for all apparent purposes except to indicate the times of meals; but in this age of progress Courmayeur may yet have 13 o'clock lunch, 17 o'clock tea and 20 o'clock dinner.
The Couvercle is situated on the slopes of the Aiguille du Moine at an elevation of about 9.000 feet in immediate proximity to some of the best scenery in the Alps, the dominant peaks being Mont Blanc (which in my opinion presents a finer appearance from this, its easterly side, than any other), the Grandes Jorasses and the Aiguille Verte, with its splendid continuing ridges already referred to, Les Droites and Les Courtes. In whatever direction the eye turned, it met an impressive sight. The sunset was a splendid one and then came twilight followed by brilliant moonlight. Scenes of this sort to be appreciated must be witnessed, for „in beauty they far exceed anything that may be imagined by those not acquainted with them; and however glorious these mountains may be by day, yet he who has not seen them also by moonlight knows but a part of their splendor.
Once before I had spent a night at the Couvercle, namely in 1889, when I climbed the Aiguille Verte, but then there was no hut, only a great overhanging rock under which we slept — or tried to sleep. Now we found a small but comfortable hut which on the night of August 21 sheltered several parties of climbers. I retired last and had my mattress placed on the floor of the ante-chamber where I could control the ventilation. Though the air without was crisp, yet the door remained open a bit during the night and thus we slept soundly until 3 o'clock, when we arose and breakfasted. An hour later we went out into a scene of great beauty and began our climb as moonlight was giving way to early dawn. When in 1889 we started from the Couvercle for the Aiguille Verte, we had a very hard day before us, the event of which remained uncertain until half an hour before we reached the summit, for the mountain proved to be an extremely difficult and dangerous one, nor was I surprised to learn that in some of the succeeding years, including this one, it could not be climbed at all. To-day's excursion was of a totally different character, and we were almost certain to accomplish it with relative ease.
The Col de Talèfre, as seen in the distance, resembles a tall, narrow strip of snow between the Aiguilles de Talèfre and de Triolet. The walk to the foot of it was a beautiful one over gradually rising snowfields, and as the sky was cloudless I was again enabled to witness one of those wonderful sunrises which can be seen only at high altitudes. No difficulties whatever were encountered until we were about 300 feet below the top of the pass, when the fresh snow on the final slopes gave us some trouble, as it had several times elsewhere earlier in the season, and we were an hour covering this short distance. On the summit, which we reached at 7.40, a magnificent view of „Sunny Italy“ suddenly burst upon us, and with it also a very rapid increase in the temperature, which rose from below the freezing point to 70 degrees, or thereabouts. We realized at once that the heat of the sun on the Italian side was already playing havoc with the snow slopes which we were to descend, and as they contained many hidden crevasses, we felt that we could not attack them too soon, so we left at once, and until 10.30 were struggling with rather trying conditions. We constantly sank deep into the snow, and were compelled to spend much time in dodging and circumventing a number of those deep fissures of which Tyndall has so rightly said that „to be killed in the open air would be a luxury compared with having the life squeezed out of one in the horrible gloom of these chasms.“ Not until 10.30, when we were off the snow, did we sit down for our first meal since 3.30 a. m. Usually one partakes of food every three or four hours; to omit doing so for seven hours is against the rules of the game and the longings of nature, but sometimes, as here, it becomes necessary to suffer awhile from hunger in the interest of safety. We were walking till about 2, when we came to the highroad leading down the Val Ferris, whence we drove in a cart to Courmayeur. Almost our last act was to wade a waist-deep glacial stream which the fresh snows had converted into a torrent.
It was our plan to start the following day for Mont Blanc and ascend it from the Italian side by the Miage Glacier. All arrangements were made accordingly, but the weather again put in its veto and compelled us to take twenty-four hours of rest we did not feel we required. They did not, however, pass at all unpleasantly. Courmayeur is beautifully located and is, furthermore, only twenty-five miles distant from the interesting town of Aosta, and since an excellent automobile service exists between the two places, I was able to spend the afternoon visiting Roman ruins, enjoying, incidentally, delightful rides down and up the valley. The dust on the highroad was laid by laborers splashing water on it from a gutter by means of spades with long handles. Courmayeur possesses an excellent hotel, also the usual long, narrow street, closely lined with shops of every description. Amongst the articles for sale I noticed „Elixir La Brenva,“ named after the glacier, regardless of the fact that the Brenva route to the summit of Mont Blanc is one of the deadliest in the Alps and had only the previous week claimed another victim. High heels and hobble skirts were much in evidence in this primitive Italian village, nor was their use confined to the summer visitors. The hours subsequent to 12 noon were designated by the numbers 13 to 24 for all apparent purposes except to indicate the times of meals; but in this age of progress Courmayeur may yet have 13 o'clock lunch, 17 o'clock tea and 20 o'clock dinner.
Dieses Kapitel ist Teil des Buches My Summer in the Alps, 1913