OVER THE ALPS IN A SNOWSTORM. AN AWFUL EXPERIENCE AND NARROW ESCAPE.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 194, 12 March 1887, Page 4 (Supplement)

OVER THE ALPS IN A SNOWSTORM. AN AWFUL EXPERIENCE AND NARROW ESCAPE.

The Genoa correspondent of the " Daily News " furnishes the following account of an all but fatal attempt to orosa the Albuia Pass in one of the severest snowstorms ever known in Switzerland. "An acoount of it," and writaß the adventurous traveller," may not be uninteresting to those people who have no knowledge of high Alpine passes when winter has transformed them into howling wildernesses of deathly whiteness, and when the thermometer frequently registers forty and fifty degrees of frost. But in the absence of wind this low temperature is quite endurable and may even be ageeable to people in rude health ; for the air is so dry and rarefied that the cold is not felt to the same extent as it would be at lower altitudes where the atmosphere contains more moisture When there is wind, however, such a degree of cold becomes deadly and insupportable, and no weather that is ever experienced in England can compare with it. " A matter of urgent business necessitated my journeying into the Eugadine, and as I had to make a call at Chur I resolved to cross by the well-known Albuia. I reached the capital of the Grisons late at night, to find the streets blocked with snow, and I learned with astonishment that communication with the Engadine was interrupted. This is a rare occurrence even in the depth of winter, and may be taken as evidence that the weather was exceptionally bad. No diligence had left that day, and on inquiry at the bureau I waß informed that probably none would leave on the following day. As the mission on which I was bound was of a very urgent character, I resolved to make the attempt to cross should the diligence fail to start. The morning broke sullen and gloomy, and the air was thick with swirling snow, and I was mortified to learn that the diligence would not be able to get through. But the landlord of my hotel informed me that Borne peasants who had come to Chur on the previous day from Bergun, a well-known village on the Albuia, were going to start back in about an houc on a wood sleigh, and possibly I should be able to accompany them, trusting to luck to continue the journey from Bergun on foot. Such an undertaking wan not without risk, considering the weather ; but as the nature of my business scarcely permitted its postponement, I made up my mind to attempt the journey. The peasants were soon discovered — a father and son -and a bargain struck, and at half-past six, in blinding Bnow and piercing cold, we eet off. The sleigh was a strong sort of cart without sides, Buch as is commonly used in the alps for conveying stacks of wood over the mountains. It was drawn by a powerful horse, that was able to proceed at a more rapid rate than usual, having no weight behind it ; and, as the peasants were anxious to reach their home, they lost no time on the way. The journey to Bergun was without incident, except when crossing the well-known and extensive open tract known aa Leuzer-Hide, whore the blinding snow and obliteration of the road caused us to sink into drifts three or four time*, from which we only extricated oureelves with difficulty. By the time we hai reached the Alvenen Baths, where we refreshed and warmed ourselves at the comfortable hotdi there, it had ceased to snow, and the sun occasionally shone out in fitful, glary gleams. Ac we proceeded the weather got brighter, and when we arrived at Bergun, the sky was partially clear and the sun was brilliant. But there were manifest signs that the lull was only temporary, and that there was a great deal more enow to come down. My anxiety to pu«h on prompted me to use every endeavour to reach the hospice on the summit, whero I could pass the night, and descend into the Engadine in good time the following morning. I nude inquiries for a guide, bufc had some difficulty in securing one, as it was considered improbable that the journey could ba done, aa there wera prospects of a lenowtil of the storm. Moteo.-er, I was informed that in some parts of the pass there were masses of snow fourteen and fifteen feet deep, and it would be all but imposnble to get through them. As I porsiered in my determination, however, I at length succeeded in obtaining the services of a a urdy peasant, who know every inch of the route, and who was tempted by the liberal fee I offered him. We left Bjrgun soon af tor twelve with a well stocked knapsnack oi prjvisipns, including a bottle of old brandy. An hour later the sky had clouded over, the sun had quite disappeared, and lvfctle wreaths of powde-y biiosv filled the air. The temperature was very low, but tho exertion of walking kept us warm, and there was littlo or no' wind at this tim> My guide glancod anxiously about, and said he did not like the appearance of the weather. I a?ked him whe'her ho w-isdeshous of turning back, but he replitd, "No," unless 1 wished to do so. A.c I told him that I had no such intention so Ijng as he was willing to accompany me, he said, with a detsr mined expression of face, « Vorv well, then, we are in for it ; and we must' make the best of it.' As we ap proached tbo majestic and terrific^ Teufela thai the enow thick >ned and fell in large, compact flakes, while gusts of deadly wind came up with a roar from the awful ravine where the Albuia thunders its rocky bed 300 feet balow the roadway. The whole landscape was obliterated, and it was impossible to see half a dozen yards ahead. The road itself was entirely lost, but the guide with unerring instinct traced the way, cleverly avoiding the precipices and the drifts, though now an J again we found ourselves struggling up tv tho waißt in soft accumulations on the rGad itself. By the time we had painfully toiled up to the well-known stone bridge which spans +he awful ravine, tho wind was blowing a gale, while the eno.v was blinding. We came within an ace of plunging down into the rocky chaem ; for the enow was level with the parapet of the bridge, over which it curled in a great cornico. Here, for the tiret time perhaps, we fully realiaed the hazardous nature o± the undertaking. But to turn back was out of the question, as that would have been even worse than going on, From the bridge the road is carried over the face of a stupendous precipice, and thence debouches on to an extensive plain. Before opening upon the plain the defi'e is exceedingly narrow, and through this the wind swept with such terrific force, and was so charged wiih compact enow, that six different times were wo driven back into tho shelter of the projecting rocks that broke the force of the cruel blasts. At length, taking advantage of a lull, we forced the passage and gained the open. I confess that here I almost lost heart. The icy wind seemed to blow clean through me, and it etung tho expoeed parts of the face like whipcords. All around appeared to be a solid wall of enow. The flakes were as large as five-sbilling piece?, and almost blinded one. Conversation was out of the question, for it was impossible to hear each other, while the exertion required to make progress at all was exceedingly exhaus f ing. 11 No one who hadn't been born amongst these mountains and who had not spsnt a lifetime in euch desolate regions could possibly have found his way, and muet inevitably have perished, But my guide,

with one or two exceptions, never onoft seemed to go astray. For myself I followed in. hia tracks mechanically. 1 was numbed and drowsy, and be had the appearance to me of a white spectre only dimly seen. Although by the hour there should have been plenty of daylight the air was darkened by the thiok snow, and I began to very seriously doubt whether it was at all possible, to reach our destination. The guide had similar thoughts, for soon after he Btopped and shouted in my ear that there was a shepherd's hut somewhere about there, and it would be as well to try and find it and shelter in it for the night. I readily acquiesced in this proposal, and we turned off at an angle, and forged ahead for about a quarter of an hour, when, with suddenness, iho guide disappeared— where/ I knew not. I only knew that ho had gonjjf out of my vision, and I was left alone in that ghastly region of death, with the appalling roar of the wind and the river thundering in my ears. The incident, however, served to arouse me to energy and a sense of the peril that menaced me I felt perfectly well,savefortipeculiarnumbnessofthelimbs s especially the legs, that rendered it somewhat difficult to bend the knees. This was no doubt due to the intense cold having lowered the circulation. I stood for a moment and shouted, but my voice won drowned by the wind, and I scarcely heard it myself, 1 determined to try and discover what had become of my companion, and render him assistance if needed. And so, like a blind man groping along, I advanced cautiously, probing the snow with myalpen&tock, but suddenly my feet seemed to go from under me, and I felt myself falling through tho ah*. The next thing I was conscious of was that! was buried in the snow and was suffocating. 1 raised my hands with some difficulty and cleared the enow from my mouth, and was then able to breathe. The next moment I heard a voice close to me, and never in all my life have I heard anything that sounded so welcome as did that human voice in that awful moment of deadly peril. I managed to turn round and saw about a yard away the head and shoulders of my companion. The situation was clear now ; we had plunged over a precipico about ten feet, and fallen into a a soft enow-drift. 'We must get out of this immediately he said calmly, 'or we're dead men Ho had retained poE* session of his alpenstock, and he gave> me one end of it, and by this means, but only with great difficulty, he wb» enabled to extricate himeelf. We fortified ourselves with a strong doso of brandy, and ho then pulled me out, and we scrambled by the aid of some bushes to the road again. Beseemed much annoyed by his error of judgment, and said sullenly, "We must go oa or perish." I made no response. 1 really hud nothing to say. X waß well aware that he was perfectly right, but it occurred to me that under tho circumstances whether wo proceedod, or whether we stopped, the chances of perishing were equally great ; for the cold was increasing, night was coming on, and the snow waB thickening. We were alone in that stern wilderness, and at any moment we might topple over some precipice, or, failing that, sink from exhaustion in the snow and bo frozen to death. If we could only have get shelter from tho deadly wind things would not have been so bad. For, apart from tbo distressing aeuse of numbness it produced* it swirled tho snow around us, and made breathing most difficult, One had to taka in tho air in gasps, as it were, and at intervals, when the force of the blasts lessened. For two and a half weary houra we struggled on. It was a sheer struggle of physicial strength against the forces of nature, and the slightest failure of that strength would have sealed our doom. At length, with startling suddenness, my companion uttered a joyful zodel, Hia quick eyes had peen what mine had not, namely a friendly gleam of light streaming from one of the little windowß of the lonely hospice. Th 3 people of the hoapice heard the shout and came out with a lantern to welcome us. They were naturally suiprisod at our appearance, and as we entered tho room whore a huge iron stove diffuse 3 a genial warmth, I folt that we had come out of a white world of death into the living, breathing atmosphere of human compauionahip, that waa doubly and trebly welcome after tho extreme peril we had passed through. Whon we had divested ourselves of our frozen garments, and thaw d our blood, we recounted our adventures over a bowl of steaming spiced wine. " I passed the night on a bad of straw, for which I was infinitely more grateful than I havo been on mauy occasions for a bed of feathers. On the following morning the snow had ceassd to fall, and, retaining the services of my brave mountaineer who had piloted me so well, I continued my journey to my destination. Bub I felt that no in-ducr-mont I could ihink of would ever again tempt me to traverse an Alpine pas 3 under similar circumstances."