THE ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 



883 



the depths. Such are the freaks of Al- 

 pine nature ! 



Over such difficulties we slowly cross 

 the glacier, tied together in single file, 

 through fissures and up precipices, where 

 only the trained eye of the guide could 

 find a way. Soon the Junction is oassed 

 and the way over the glacier of Tacon- 

 naz is easier. After making a long de- 

 tour and doubling back again, as the way 

 is too steep to ascend directly, we finally, 

 after four or five hours of toil on the ice 

 fields, reach the Grand IMulets, the last 

 few hundred feet being at an angle of 

 45° and most fatiguing, for it is now 

 just after mid-day and the snow is very 

 soft (see page 884). 



We are now some 10,000 feet above 

 the sea and nearly 7,000 above Chamo- 

 nix. These rocks were early discovered 

 and made use of as a resting place by 

 the first explorers of the mountain. It 

 is an island of rock projecting from the 

 snow, perhaps 300 feet over the glacier 

 in front, the terminal peak of the granite 

 buttress, the Montague de la Cote, here 

 finally cropping out again after being 

 concealed by the glacier stream. A tiny 

 chalet has been built here, where the 

 climber can spend the night sleeping in a 

 good bed. 



THE SUPERB VIEWS FROM THE MOUNTAIN 



The view over the Valley of Chamo- 

 nix, with its mountain walls, is indeed 

 superb. Over the top of the Brevent can 

 be seen the distant Jura range, and even 

 the shores of the Lake of Geneva are 

 visible. The great Aiguille du Midi, from 

 whose base we have just come, rises on 

 one side of us, and the towering Aiguille 

 and Dome du Gouter, in the direction of 

 which we are to proceed on the early 

 morrow, are on the other. Back of us is 

 the beginning of the long snow slope ex- 

 tending to the summit (though the sum- 

 mit itself is invisible), which we are yet 

 to laboriously climb. 



The sunset from here that evening 

 was marvelous and the still starlight im- 

 pressive : everything so hushed, you fancy 

 you can hear the very stillness — the sense 

 of absolute repose so unlike anything you 

 have ever experienced before — for at 

 night the thousand rills of water, which 



trickle over the glacier in the daytime 

 like the pulse of glacier life, are now 

 stilled. Only now and again a low rush- 

 ing murmur breaks on the ear, the far- 

 ofif sound of some avalanche heard for a 

 few seconds and then ending in a muffled 

 crash. 



The little chalet is leased by the com- 

 mune of Chamonix to a man and his 

 wife, a most woebegone couple, whose 

 dejected looks eloquently bespeak the 

 solitude of their lives amid these eternal 

 snows, where the thermometer each night 

 stands at zero. Triweekly two hardy 

 porters alternate in bringing up supplies 

 from Chamonix, and they certainly earn 

 their few francs a day. 



No wonder a glass of water costs 20 

 centimes, even if it be melted snow, for 

 every billet of wood used as fuel to melt 

 the snow has to be brought from Chamo- 

 nix, seven hours below ! 



THE SECOND day's CEIMB 



At one the next morning we are called, 

 and after a hasty breakfast we are again 

 roped together and under way. Like the 

 last five hours of yesterday s climb, the 

 route now to the very summit is over 

 snow. We descend to the glacier again 

 and once more begin our conflict with 

 the difficulties of the ice, slowly picking 

 our way, with the help of a lantern, up 

 the snow valley between the mighty arms 

 of the mountain. A zigzag climb soon 

 brings us up the steep bank to a tiny 

 level plain known as the First Plateau ; 

 three hours later we reach another level 

 space, the Petit Plateau, directly under 

 the ridge connecting the Dome and the 

 Aiguille du Goiiter on our right (see page 

 886). The sun is now well up and we 

 have the promise of a glorious day. 



The little plateau is fissured with cre- 

 vasses and covered by the remnants of 

 former 'avalanches — a spot particularly 

 dreaded by the climber at mid-day, be- 

 cause of the avalanches of snow let loose 

 from the overhanging cliffs by the 

 warmth of the sun. Without warning, 

 thousands of tons of billowy masses may 

 pour down upon this tiny level space. 



Indeed, the dangers of avalanches on 

 Mont Blanc are far more subtle and far 

 more to be dreaded than those of ere- 



