THE FIRST SENSATION
There had been a heavy snow fall the morning before and it was rather soft under the hot sun, so across the field we would sink in occasionally over our knees. Now and then we jumped across crevasses which at the moment seemed exciting. But soon after we started up the almost perpendicular wall toward the saddle came the first big crevasse. A ladder helped there. Then came an even larger one with no ladder. I watched the guide, whom I followed. He chopped toe-holds and hand-holds for himself on the straight wall across the crevasse, pulled himself across and up, with his feet resting on about a foot of hardened snow which in turn rested on nothing at all, simply hanging over the depths below. He chopped his way up for some distance and then told me to come along! I admitted it then and I repeat it now, the one knee on which I wasn't resting any weight shook so that I could not move. Except for my knees, I was paralyzed with fright. And until I realized that all I had to do was to pull myself up hand over hand on the rope which was held by the guide above and use the toe holds to brace myself,—until that dawned upon me I grew more frightened every second, and I tried to put my toes in tiny holds that might not hold, and had no place for my hands, which were occupied any way, one with the rope and one with my stick.
But at last I pulled myself up, then came T. and K. and on we went. Not much more excitement going up, just the ever broadening panorama, suddenly increased as we toiled up over the overhanging snow ridge of the saddle and the view to the west appeared. It was a rare day. Everything was clearly visible, from Monte Rosa to the Vosges, from the Jura to the Tyrol, except the very summit of Mont Blanc, fringed about with its all too constant clouds. Even while we were on the summit the mists began to appear mysteriously from the western valley, closing in as suddenly around us.
The trip down! I never relish a descent, and this one! We could keep our toes in those holds going up the wall; but getting our heels in them going down didn't please us in prospect. The snow was softer and it held less surely. At first we would slip at every tenth step and be stopped by the man above us, unless he happened to slip at the same time. The order going down was of course K., T., myself and the guide—simply reversed, for we had all the time been roped together, even at the summit which is nothing but a pointed cone with just room enough for a few people to cluster around the pole erected there.
The guide was quite proud of our speed on the ascent (so he claimed!) and he would hurry us on down by poking snow lumps under my feet so that I would slip and push T.'s feet out from under him, who in turn would dislodge K., and the guide would throw himself after us. We covered much of the distance to the saddle in that fashion.
A CREVASSE "He chopped toe-holds for himself"
