Outing Club Men Climb the Jungfrau

It all began on the Kleine Scheidegg train at Lauterbrunnen when K. and T., both '27 men and once in a freshman section of mine, came into the compartment where I had already settled down for the ride up to the Jungfraujoch. They had come up on the early morning train from Interlaken with the announced intention of climbing the Jungfrau. I smiled the genial tolerance with which age looks down upon youth's mad visions—for I knew what the fourteen thousand foot peak might be like, even in Augustand they smiled back the sublime calm confidence of youth.

We enjoyed the glorious ride of two hours and a half—for it must be admitted that the train takes you up to eleven thousand feet above sea level, leaving only three thousand feet of snow climbing. But I learned that those contained fun and thrills a plenty for one whose previous mountaineering had been bounded on the east by the rounded cone of Washington and on the west by the outstretched form of the Couching Lion.

For while I sat down on the Berghaus porch to look out onto the greater heights, K. and T. went in search of a guide and they returned with one who offered to guide three such experienced climbers as easily as twothe two boys had just been up the Gornergrat railway and all three of us could (and did) boast of membership in the Dartmouth Outing Club! So with them I hired hobnailed shoes, leggings and an alpenstock. Soon we were roped together—the guide, then I, then T., then K. And we started. Out from the "yoke" at the right of the picture; diagonally across the snow field, passing just under the bare mass of projecting rock; then up, straight up, to the "saddle" at the left of the summit, and along the knife-edge snow ridge to the top.

THE START Jungfrau looms ahead