Vol. XXIV, No. 



WASHINGTON 



August, 1913 



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THE ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 



By Walter Woodburn Hyde 

 University of Pennsylvania 



I FIRST saw the monarch of Sv^iss 

 mountains from the town of Geneva. 

 Far away on the horizon, 60 miles to 

 the eastward, the great white pyramid, 

 clearly visible from the city streets, lifts 

 its hoary bulk aloft into the azure sky, 

 far above all the surrounding peaks of 

 Savoy. And at evening its huge mass of 

 snow and ice is a sheen of red and golden 

 light, whose brightness seems only to 

 have the substance of some fantastic 

 cloud reflecting the fiery hues of the 

 western sun. 



But when viewed from the village of 

 Chamonix, grandly situated at its base, 

 the effect is still more imposing. I had 

 approached the tiny town — so famed in 

 the story of Alpine climbing — from Ar- 

 gentiere, which lies at the entrance of 

 the romantic vale of Chamonix. 



Everywhere the eye is charmed with 

 the harmonious blending of nature's 

 varying tints. Green meadows and dark 

 pine woods heighten the beauty of the 

 snow-white glaciers, which extend like 

 frozen torrents from the summit down 

 into the very valley, their lower courses 

 separated by great forest-clad promon- 

 tories projecting upward into the sea of 

 ice and crowned with huge rocks carved 

 into obelisks and other titanic shapes, 

 intermixed with patches of snow. 



The mind is almost overwhelmed with 

 the grandeur of the massive wall inclos- 

 ing the valley all along its eastern side, 



with its succession of noble peaks covered 

 with eternal snow, and the stately, needle- 

 like rocks — the so-called Aiguilles — which 

 seem to pierce the sky, the whole mass 

 culminating just over the village in the 

 central summit, the mountain monarch 

 towering in regal majesty amidst his 

 court of subservient attendants. 



As we gaze up at his huge outline, we 

 see two long, irregular ridges, like enor- 

 mous arms, descending from the giant's 

 shoulders, the two rounded peaks just 

 below the summit on either side, Mont 

 Blanc du Tacul and the Dome du Goiiter, 

 the one ending in the Aiguille du Midi, the 

 other in the Aiguille du Gouter, whose 

 spurs reach far down into the valley be- 

 low (see pages 862 and 874). 



Between these mighty arms is the 

 course of the snow valley, sloping up- 

 ward to just below the summit, which 

 gives to the mountain its pyramidal effect 

 when seen from a distance and its pecu- 

 liar character and name, and as we look 

 up from the village street, the effect is 

 overpowering. Above us, all above us, 

 with its broken and jagged slopes and 

 majestic glaciers, is the mass of the 

 mountain, its great snowy dome sur- 

 mounting all, and apparently almost di- 

 rectly over us. 



In the moonlight it is grandest of all, 

 when summit and sides are masses of 

 glittering crystals, and withal seemingly 

 so near and so easy of access, though it 



