THIRTY-SIX HOURS IN A SNOWSTORM AND SHELTERLESS.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 175, 23 October 1886, Page 6 (Supplement)

THIRTY-SIX HOURS IN A SNOWSTORM AND SHELTERLESS.

Awftal Experiences of a Survivor, London, August 27. None of the monarch mountains cf the Alps have been the scene of half such thrilling adventures and tragic accidents as the gloomy, haunted, and itill comparatively recently) inaccessible Matterhorn. For years its ascent defied the efforts of Professor Tyndal, Mr Whymper, and the flower of Alpine climbers and guides. Then at last (in August, 1865) Mr Whymper and come friends triumphantly reached the summit, but only for four ftf the party to lose their lives in the descent. Since then new routes have been discovered, roped and chains affixed to the most awkward situations, and the ascent made generally possible to accomplished mountaineers. Even now, however, great endurance and considerablepluck are necessary to achieve the feat. On Monday week a party of 13 (ominous nUmber) started for Zermatt in lovely "Weather to make the ascent They achieved it successfully, and were on their way down, when a heavy snowstorm overtook them, and fer 36 hours imprisoned the party on the bleak exposed side of the mountain. The tale of Buffering and privation is best told by Mr Davis, a survivor, who, with tiro guides and his companion, Borckhardt (who succumbed to the situation) endured the direst misery. Mr Davis was still weak *nd ill in bed when he supplied the following:— We left Zermatt about two o'clock on Monday afternoon, in capital spirits. The weather was lovely, and everything promised ft favourable ascent. We had two guides, whose names were on the official list, whose references were satisfactory, and who were twice over recommended to us by Herr Seiler, whose advice we sought before we engaged them, and who gave them excellent credentials. We placed ourselves in their hands, as is the rule in such cases, ordered the provisions and wine which they declared to be necessary, and made ready for the ascent. 1 had lived among hills from my boyhood. I had come expeiience of mountaineering in the Pyrenees, where I ascended the highest and other peaks. In the Engadine I have also done some climbing ; and last week, together with Mr Borckhardt, who was one of my oldest friends, we made the ascent of the Titlis, and made other excursions among the hills. Mr Borckhnrdt was slightly my senior, but as a walker he was quite equal to me in endurance. When we arrived at Zermatt last Saturday we found that parties were going up the Matterhorn on Monday. We knew that ladies had made the ascent, and youths ; and the mountain had besides been climbed by friends of ours Whose physical strength, to say the least, was not superior to our own. It waa a regular thing to go up the Matterhorn, and we accordingly determined to mane the ascent. We started next morning at half-past two or three. We were the third party to leave the cabin, but, making good speed over the first stage of the ascent, we reached the second when the others were breakfasting there, and then resumed the climb. Mr Mercer, with hid party, followed by the Dutch party, started shortly before us. We met them about a quarter past eight return* ing from the top. They said that they had beenjthere half an hour, and thattherewas no view. We passed them, followed by the Italians, and reached the eummit about a quarter to nine. The ascent, although toilsome, had not exhausted us in the least. Both Mr Borckhardt and myself were quite fresh, although we had made the summit before the Italians, who started together with us from the second hut. Had the weather remained favourable, we could have made the descent with ease. Even while we were on the summit I felt hail begin to fall, and before we were five minutes on our way down it was hailing heavily. It was a fine hail, and inches of it fell in a very short time, and the track was obliterated. We pressed steadily downwards, followed by the Italians, nor did it occur to me at that time that there was any danger. We got past the ropes and chains safely and reached the snow slope on the shoulder. At this point we were leading. Bat ac the Italians had three guides and we only two we changed places, so that their third guide could lead. They climbed down the slope, cutting steps fottheir feet in the ice. We trod close after the Italians, but the snow and hail filled up the holes so rapidly that in order to make a safe descent our guides had to recut the Bteps. This took much time— as much as two hours. I should say — and every hour the snow was getting deeper. At last we got down the snow slope on to the steep rocks below. The Italians were still in front of us, and we all kept on steadily descending. We were still in good spirits, nor did we feel in any doubt that we would reach the bottom. Our first alarm was occasioned by the Italians losiug their way. They found their progress barred by precipitous rocks, and their guides came back to ours to conault as to the road. Our guides insisted that the path lay down the side of a steep couloir. Their guides demurred, But after going down some ten feet they cried out that our guides were right, and they went on— we followed. By this time it was getting dark. The hail continued increasing We began to get alarmed. It seemed impossible to make our way to the cabin that night. We had turned to the right after leaving the couloir, crossed some slippery rocks, and after 'a short descent turned te the left and came to the edge of the precipice where Mosely fell, where there was some very slight shelter afforded by a projecting rock, and there ~we prepared to pass the night, seeing that all further progress wag hopeless. We were covered with ice. The night was dark, The air was filled with hail. We were too cold to eat. The Italians were about an hour below us on the mountain aide. We could hear their voices and exchanged shouts. Excepting them, we were thousands of feet above any other human being. I found that while Borckhardt had emptied his brandy-flask mine was full. I gave him half of mine. That lasted us through the night. We did not try the wine till the morning, and. then we found that it was frozen solid. Never have I had a more awful experience than that des6late night on the Matterhorn. We were chilled to the bone, and too exhausted to stand. The wind rose, and each gust drove the hail into out faces, cutting tis like a knife. Our guides did everything that man could do to save us., Aufdenlatten did his best to make us believe that there was no danger. "Only keep yourselves warm ; keep moving ; and we shall go down all right to-morrow, when -the sunrises." "It /is ot no use," I replied. "We shall diehere." They chafed our limbs and did their best to make va stand up, bat it w*b in vain. I felt angry a t their interference. Why could they not leave us alone to die? I remember striking wildly but feebly at my guide as he insisted on rub bin

was racked with pain, especially in my back and loins — pain so intense aa to make me cry out. The guides had fastened the rope round the rook to hold on by, while they jumped to keep up the circulation of the blood. They brought us to it and made us jump twice or thrice. Move we oould not, we lay back prostrate on the snow and ice, while the guides varied their jumping by rubbing our limbs and endeavouring to make us move our arms and legs. They were getting feebler. Borckhardt and I, as soon as we were fully convinced that ,death was imminent for us, did our best to persuade our'guides to leave us where we lay and make their way down the hill. They were married men with families. To save us was impossible. They might at least save themselves. We begged them to consider their wives and children and to go. This was at the beginning of the night. They refused. They would rather die with us, they said. They would remain and ds thoir best. Borckhardt and I talked a little as men might who are at the point of death. He bore without complaining pain wbich led me to cry out from time to time. We both left directions with the guides that we were to be buried at Zermatt. Borckhardt spoke of his friends and his family affairs, facing his death with manly resignation and composure. As the night wore on I became weaker and weaker. I oould not even make the effort necessary to flick the snow off my companion's face. By degrees the guides themselves began to lose hope. I The cold was so intense, we crouched together for warmth. They lay beside us to try to impart some heat. It was in vain "We shall die !" "We are lost I" " Yes," said Aufdenblatten, " very likely we shall.'* He was so weak, poor fellow, he could hardly keep his feet, but still he tried to keep me moving. It was a relief not to be touched. I longed for death, but death would not come. Towards half -past two on Wednesday morning, so we reckoned, for all our watches had stopped with the ©bid, the snow ceased, and the air became cleaft It had been snowing or hailing without intermission for eighteen hours. It was very dark below, but above all was clear, although the wind still blew. When the sun rose we saw just a gleam of light. Then a dark cloud came from the hciiow below, and our hopes went out. •• Oh, if only the sun would come out," we said to each other I do not know hew many times. But it did not, and instead of the eun came the snow once more. Towards seven, as near as I can make it, a desperate attempt was made to get us to walk. The guides took Borckhardt, and between them propped him on his feet and made him stagger on a few steps. They failed to keep him moving more than a step or two. The moment they let go he dropped. They repeated the same with me. Neither could I stand. I remember four distinct times that they drove us forward, only to see us drop helpless after each step. It was evidently no use. Borckhardt had joined again with me in repeatedly urging the guides to leave us and save themselves. They had refused, and continued to do all that their failing strength allowed to protect us from the bitter cold. As the morning wore on, my friend, who during the night had been much more composed and tranquil than I, began to grow perceptibly weaker. We were quite resigned to die, and had, in fact, lost all hope. We had been on the mountain from about 3 a.m. on Tuesday to 1 p.m on Wednesday, thirty .four hours in all. Eighteen of these were spent in a blinding snowstorm, and we had hardly tasted food since we left the summit at nine on the Tuesday morning. At length (about one) we heard shouts far down the mountain. The guides said thay probably proceeded from a search party sent out to save us. I again urged the guides to go down by themselves to meet the searchers, and to hurry them up. This they refused to do unless I accompanied them. Borckhardt was at this time too much exhausted to stand upright, and was lying in a helplees condition. The guides, although completely worn out, wished to attempt the descent with me, and they considered that by so doing we should be able to indicate to^ the searchers the precise spot where my friend lay, and to hasten their efforts to reach him with stimulants. Since early morning the snow had ceased falling. We began the descent, and at first I required much assistance from the guides, but by degrees became better able to move, and the hope of soon procuring help from the approaching party for my poor friend sustained us, After a most laborious descent of about an hour and a half we reached the first members of the rescue party, and directed them to where Borckhardt lay, requesting them to proceed there with all haste, and, after giving him stimulants,to bring him down to the lower hut in whatever condition they found him. We went on to the hut to await his arrival, nesting og the way MrKingr, of the English Alpine Club, with his guides, who were hurrying up with warm clothing. A few hours later we heard the terrible news that the relief party had found him dead. It may be interesting to revive some memories of uhe famous Matterhorn, its conquerors and its victims. For, as all mountaineers are well aware, the Matterhorn for many a year resisted the attacks of all comers. Those who have not made the acquaintance of Mr Whymper's too fascinating pages, in which he describes his "Scrambles Amongst the Alps" — scrambles to so ardent and courageous a climber, feats of great darinp to ordinary mortals, whose feefc have never trodden the virgin snow. There you will find, enriched with many very beautiful specimens of wood-engraving, the long story of the Matterhorn told with a charm of style which, we fear, has helped many a man to break his neck. Professor Tyndall himself almost succeeded in reaching the summib in 1862 ; but it was not, after many attempts, until July 13, 1865, that the Matterhorn succumbed ; and even then the victory was bought at a terrible coat. The famous party was eight in number, and con eisted of Crox, Peter Taugwalder and his two sons, Lord F. Douglas, Mr Hadow, Mr Hudson, and Mr Whymper. They camped at a height of 11,000 feet, and passed the remaining hours of daylight— " some basking in the sunshine, some sketching or collecting ; and when the sun went down, giving, as it departed, a gloriouß promise for the morrow, we returned to the tent to arrange for the night. Hudson made tea ani coffee, and we then retired, each one to his blanket bag.' Long after dusk the cliff above eohoed with our laughter, ■md with the songs of the guides, for we were happy that night in the camp, and teared no evil," Next morning they started at dawn, and reached the top, after a difficult climb) without accident. "We remained," says Mr Whymper, "for one hour." "One crowded' hour of glorious life," and the .prospect 1—" there were the most' rugged forms, and the most graceful outlines—bold, perpendicular cliffs, and gentle undulating slopes; rocky mountains, , and snowy mountains, sombre »nd solemn, or' glittering and white, and' walls— turrets-*-' pinnacleß— pyramids and domes^-cones— and spires. There was every combination that the world oan givei and every contrast that the heart could desire.'' Mr Whymper's description of the famouß accident; by which^Eor^yFraneiq i Doaglaa, 4

killed, even at this remote date makes one's heart beat »n& one's nerves tingle, They were, roped together, when Mr Hadow slipped, dragging his comrades to death :— - I heard one Btartled exclamation' from Croz, then saw him, and Mr Hadow flying downwards ; in another moment Hudson was dragged from his steps, I and Lord F. Douglas immediately after him. All this was the work «f a moment. Immediately wp heard Crozs exclamation^ old Peter' and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks would permit. The rope was taut between us, and the jerk came on both as one man. We held; but the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and Lord F. Douglas. For a few seconds we| saw our unfortunate companions sliding downwards on their backs, and spreading out their hands endeavouiing to save themselves. So perished our comrades ! For the space of half an hour we remained on the spot without moving a single step. The two men, paralyzed by terror, cried like infants. The ropes were made fast "to the rocks, but even with their assurance the men were afraid to preceed, and several times old Peter turned, with ashy face and, f altering limbs; and said with terrible emphasis, •« I cannot." After many hours they reached Zermatt. And this is the terrible story of the first ascent and most famous of the most majestic of the Alpine heights ! Comparatively few of us are able to drink the iatoxicating excitement of Alpine climbing. The sport is only possible to those whose purses have a pretty deep bottom ; guides naturally put a high price on their hazardous business ; and the expense of traveliing.to say nothing of the expenses of time, do not come within the reach of the majority t of our workaday community. And perhaps it is as well. But nil of us have read of the fierce joy of the mountaineer j we have all read, or heard, fascinating descriptions 1 ' of impregnable snow peaks, of huge precipices, "spotted with snow-slopes, and streaked with snowgullies j" of overhanging glaciers ; of cols, and tttcs, sfracs, and couloirs, aretes ; and our imaginations are easily taught how fearful And dizsy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low. The accident will probably form a fresh text for many a sermon on the dangers of Alpine climbing, but no one could have foreseen a thirty-six hours' storm, and it was the storm, and not the slipping of a foot or the breaking of a rope, which killed poor Borckhardt.