CLIMBING ON THE HIMALAYA AND
OTHER MOUNTAIN RANGES

Printed at the Edinburgh University Press,
by T. and A. Constable,

for
DAVID DOUGLAS.

CAMBUIDOE
GLASGOW .

. SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT
AND CO., LTD.

. MACMILLAN AND BOWKS.

. JAMES MACI.EH08E AND SONS.

CLIMBING ON
THE HIMALAYA

AND
OTHER MOUNTAIN RANGES

J. NORMAN COLLIE, F.R.S.

MEMBER OF THE ALPINE CLUB

EDINBURGH
DAVID DOUGLAS

1902

Mr$m,J

PREFACE

After a book has been written, delivered to the
publisher, and the proofs corrected, the author
fondly imagines that little or no more is expected
of him. All he has to do is to wait. In due time
his child will be introduced to the world, and
perhaps an enthusiastic public, by judicious com-
ments on the virtues of the youngster, will make
the parent proud of his offspring.

Before, however, this much-desired event can
take place, custom demands that a preface, or an
introduction of the aforesaid youngster to polite
society, must be written. Unfortunately also the
parent has to compile a list or index of the various
items of his progeny's belongings that are of
interest ; so that nothing be left undone that may
be of service to the young fellow, what time he
makes his bow before a critical audience. In
books on travel, nowadays, it is customary often

;7i75*

vi PREFACE

somewhat to scamp this necessary duty, and, after
a few remarks in the preface, on subjects not
always of absorbing interest, to conclude with the
hope that the reader will be as interested in the
description of places he has never seen as the
author has been in writing about them.

Of course, formerly these matters were better
managed. In the ' Epistle Dedicatorie,' the author
would at once begin with : — ' To the most Noble
Earle ' — then with many apologies, all in the best
English and most perfect taste, he, under the
patronage of the aforesaid Noble Earle, would
launch his venture on to the wide seas of publicity,
or perhaps growing bolder, would put forth his
wares with some such phrases as the following : —
* And now, oh most ingenuous reader ! can you
find narrated many adventures, both on the high
mountains of the earth, and in far countries but
little known to the vulgar. Here are landscapes
brought home, and so faithfully wrought, that you
must confess, none but the best engravers could
work them. Here, too, may'st thou find described
diverse parts of thine own native land.'

PREFACE vii

' Choose that which pleaseth thee best. Not to
detain thee longer, farewell ; and when thou hast
considered thy purchase, may'st thou say, that the
price of it was but a charity to thyself, so not ill
spent.'

J. N. C.

16 Campden Grove,

London, 24th March 1902

NOTE

Four of the chapters in this book have appeared before in the
pages of the Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal (A Chuilionn,
Wastdale Head, A Reverie, and the Oromaniacal Quest). They
all, hoAvever, have been partly rewritten, so the author trusts
that he may be excused for offering to the public wares which
are not entirely fresh.

The Fragment from a Lost MS., and part of the chapter on
the Lofoten Islands, were first printed in the Alpine Journal.

The author also takes this opportunity of thanking Mr. Colin
B. Phillip, first, for allowing photogravure reproductions to be
made of two of bis pictures (The Coolin and the Macgillicuddy's
Eeeks), and secondly, for the great trouble Mr. Phillip took
in producing the three sketches of the Himalayan mountains
which are to be found in the text.

CONTENTS

The Himalaya-

i. General History of Mountaineering in the Himalaya, . 1

II. Our Journey out to Nanga Parbat, .... 25

in. The Eupal Nullah, 38

iv. First Journey to Diamirai Nullah and the Diamirai

Pass, ......... 57

v. Second Journey to Diamirai Nullah and Ascent to

21,000 feet, 70

vi. Ascent of the Diamirai Peak, 85

vn. Attempt to ascend Nanga Parbat, .... 104

viii. The Indus Valley and Third Journey to Diamirai Nullah, 118

The Canadian Rocky Mountains, 135

The Alps, 165

The Lofoten Islands, 185

A Chuilionn, 211

The Mountains of Ireland, 225

Prehistoric Climbing near Wastdale Head, . . . 245

A Reverie, 263

The Oromaniacal Quest, 283

Fragment from a Lost MS., 299

Notes on the Himalayan Mountains, 305

Index, 311

LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS

A Stormy Sunset, Frontispiece

A Himalayan Camp, To face page 2

A Himalayan Nullah, „ „ 38

The Diamirai Pass from the Red Pass, „ ,, 62

The Mazeno Peaks from the Red Pass, „ „ 74

The Diamirai Peak from the Red Pass, „ „ 88

View of the Diamirai Peak from the Red Pass, „ „ 90

On Nanga Parbat, from Upper Camp, . . „ „ 104

Nanga Parbat from the Diamirai Glacier, . „ ,, 110

Do. Do. Do., . „ „ 112

View of Diama Glacier from Slopes of Diamirai

Peak, „ „ 116

The Diama Pass from the Rakiot Nullah, . „ „ 120

The Chongra Peaks from the Red Pass, . . „ ,,122

The Freshfield Glacier, „ „ 148

A Crevasse on Mont Blanc, ....„„ 166

Lofoten, „ „ 186

The CoolIxV, „ „ 212

The Macgillicuddy's Reeks, ....„„ 226

LIST OF MAPS

Map of Kashmir, .
Map of Nanga Parbat,

. To face page 28
40

Canadian Rocky Mountains. Map of the Ice-
fields and the Mountains, .

144

CHAPTER I

GENERAL HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING IN THE
HIMALAYA

' Let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment to his age
In having known no travel in his youth.'

Shakespeare.

At some future date, how many years hence who
can tell ? all the wild places on the earth will have
been explored. The Cape to Cairo railway will
have brought the various sources of the Nile within
a few days' travel of England ; the endless fields of
barren ice that surround the poles will have yielded
up their secrets ; whilst the vast and trackless
fastnesses of that stupendous range of mountains
which eclipses all others, and which from time
immemorial has served as a barrier to roll back the
waves of barbaric invasion from the fertile plains
of Hindustan — these . Himalaya will have been
mapped, and the highest points in the world above
sea-level will have been visited by man. Most
certainly that time will come. Yet the Himalaya,

2 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

although conquered, will remain, still they will be
the greatest range of mountains on earth, but will
t!'<n .!i:ijuitude, their beauty, their fascination,
,\<i theft mystery be the same for those who
travel amongst them? I venture to think not : for
it is unfortunately true that familiarity breeds
contempt.

Be that as it may, at the present time an enor-
mous portion of that country of vast peaks has never
been trodden by human foot. Immense districts
covered with snow and ice are yet virgin and
await the arrival of the mountain explorer. His
will be the satisfaction of going where others
have feared to tread, his the delight of seeing
mighty glaciers and superb snow- clad peaks never
gazed upon before by human eyes, and his the
gratification of having overcome difficulties of no
small magnitude. For exploration in the Himalaya
must always be surrounded by difficulties and often
dangers. That which in winter on a Scotch hill
would be a slide of snow, and in the Alps an
avalanche, becomes amongst these giant peaks an
overwhelming cataclysm shaking the solid bases of
the hills, and capable with its breath alone of sweep-
ing down forests.

The man who ventures amongst the Himalaya
in order that he may gain a thorough knowledge of

IN THE HIMALAYA 3

them must of necessity be a mountaineer as well as
a mountain traveller. He must delight not only in
finding his way to the summits of the mountains,
but also in the beauties of the green valleys below,
in the bare hill-sides, and in the vast expanses of
glaciers and snow and ice ; moreover his curiosity
must not be confined to the snows and the rock
ridges merely as a means for exercising an abnormal
craze for gymnastic performances, or he will show
himself to be 'a creature physically specialised, '
perhaps, but intellectually maimed.'

For in order to cope with all the difficulties as
they arise, and to guard against all the dangers
that lurk amidst the snows and precipices of the
great mountains, a high standard, mental as well
as physical, will be required of him who sets out
to explore the Himalaya : he must have had a long
apprenticeship amidst the snow-peaks and possess,
too, geographical instincts, common sense, and love
of the mountains of no mean order.

During these latter years few sports have de-
veloped so rapidly as mountaineering ; nor is this
to be wondered at, for no sport is more in harmony
with the personal characteristics of the Englishman.
When he sets out to conquer unknown peaks, to
spend his leisure time in fighting with the great
mountains, it is usually no easy task he places in

4 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

front of himself; but in return there is no kind of
sport that affords keener enjoyments or more last-
ing memories than those the mountaineer wrests
from Nature in his playground amongst the hills.

Mountaineering, moreover, is a sport of which we
as a nation should be proud, for it is the English
who have made it what it is. There are many
isolated instances of men of other nationalities who
have spent their time in climbing snow-peaks and
fighting their way through mountainous countries ;
but when we inquire into the records of discovery
amongst the mountain ranges of the world — in the
Alps, the frosty Caucasus, the mighty Himalaya, in
the Andes, in New Zealand, in Norway, wherever
there are noble snow-clad mountains to climb,
wherever there are difficulties to overcome — it is
usually Englishmen that have led the way.

For the pure love of sport they have fought with
Nature and conquered ; others have followed after ;
and the various Alpine Clubs which have been
founded during the last twenty years are witnesses
of the fact that mountaineering is now one of the
pastimes of the world. It has taken its place
amongst our national sports, and every year sees a
larger number of recruits filling the ranks.

In one volume of that splendid collection of
books which could have been produced nowhere

IN THE HIMALAYA 5

else but in England — the ' Badminton Library of
Sports and Pastimes ' — we find Mr. C. E. Mathews
writing : ' I can understand the delight of a severely
contested game of tennis or rackets, or the fascina-
tion of a hard -fought cricket -match under fair
summer skies. Football justly claims many vota-
ries, and yachting has been extolled on the ground
(amongst others) that it gives the maximum of
appetite with the minimum of exertion. I can
appreciate a straight ride across country on a good
horse, and I know how the pulse beats when the
University boats shoot under Barnes bridge with
their bows dead level, to the music of a roaring
crowd ; and yet there is no sport like mountaineer-
ing.' This was written for a book on mountaineering,
but it may be truthfully said, without making dis-
tinctions between sports of various kinds, all of
which have their votaries, that a sport that demands
from those who would excel in its pursuit the ut-
most efforts, both physical and mental, not for a
few hours only, but day after day in sunshine and
in storm — a sport whose followers have the whole of
the mountain ranges of the world for their play-
ground, where the most magnificent scenery Nature
can lavish is spread before them, where success
means the keenest of pleasure, and defeat is un-
attended by feelings of regret ; where friendships are

8 II I > TORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

made which would have been impossible under
other circumstances — for on the mountains the diffi-
culties and the dangers shared in common by all are
the surest means for showing a man as he really is —
a sport which renews our youth, banishes all sordid
cares, ministers to mind and body diseased, invigor-
ating and restoring the whole — surely such a sport
can be second to none !

But as access to the Alps and other snow ranges
becomes easier year by year, the mountaineer,
should he wish to test his powers against the
unclimbed hills, must perforce go further afield.
There are still, however, unclimbed mountains
enough and to spare for many years yet to come.

In the Himalaya the peaks exceeding 24,000
feet in height, that have been measured., number
over fifty, 1 whilst those above 20,000 feet may be
counted by the thousand. Every year, officers of
the Indian Army and others in search of game
wander through the valleys which come down from
the great ranges, but up to the present time only a
few mountaineering expeditions have been made to
this marvellous mountain land. For this there are
many reasons. The distance of India from England
precludes the busy man from spending his summer
vacation there ; the natural difficulties of the

1 See p. 307.

IN THE HIMALAYA 7

country, the lack of provisions, the total absence of
roads, and lastly, the disturbed political conditions,
make any ordinary expedition impossible. More-
over, although the English are supposed to hold
the southern slopes of the Himalaya, yet it is a
curious fact that almost from the eastern end of
this range in Bhutan to the western limit in the
Hindu Kush above Chitral we are rigorously
excluded. About the eastern portion of the
Himalaya in Bhutan, and the mountains surround-
ing the gorge through which the Bramaputra flows,
we know very little, as only some of the higher
peaks have been surveyed from a distance. Next
in order, to the westward, comes Sikkim, one of
the few districts in the Himalaya where Europeans
can safely travel under the very shadows of the
great peaks. Next comes the native state of
Nepaul, stretching for five hundred miles, the
borders of which no white man can cross, except
those who are sent by the Indian Government as
political agents, etc., to the capital, Katmandu.
It is evident at once to any one looking at the
map of India, that Nepaul and Bhutan hold the
keys of the doors through which Chinese trade
might come south. The breaks in the main chain
in many places allow of trade - routes, and in
times gone by even Chinese armies have poured

8 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

through these passes and successfully invaded

Nepaul.

The idea of establishing friendly relations be-
tween India and this Trans-Himalayan region was
one of the many wise and far-reaching political as-
pirations of Warren Hastings. On it he spent much
of his time and thought. His policy was carried
out consistently during the time he was Governor-
General of India, and commercial intercourse during
that period seemed to be well established. Four
separate embassies were sent to Bhutan, one of
which extended its operations to Tibet. This first
British Mission to penetrate beyond the Himalaya
was that under Mr. George Bogle in 1774. But
on the removal of Warren Hastings from India,
these admirable methods of establishing a friendly
acquaintance with the powers in Bhutan and Tibet
were at once abandoned. It is true that a quarter
of a century later, in 1811, Mr. Thomas Manning,
a private individual, performed the extraordinary
feat of reaching Lhasa, and saw the Dalai Lama,
a feat that to this day has not been repeated by an
Englishman. But when the guiding hand and head
of Warren Hastings no longer ruled India, this
commercial policy sank into complete oblivion.
From that clay to the present little intercourse of
any kind seems to have been held between the

IN THE HIMALAYA 9

English Government and those states in that
border land between India and China. 1

On the west of Nepaul lie Kuraaon, Garhwal,
Kulu, and Spiti. Through most of these districts
the Englishman can wander, which is also the case
with Kashmir to a certain extent.

The sources of the rivers that emerge from these
Himalayan mountains are almost unknown, except
in the case of the Ganges, which rises in the
Gangootri peaks in Garhwal. The upper waters
of the Indus, the Sutlej, the Bramaputra (or
Sanpu), and the numberless rivers emerging from
Nepaul and flowing into the Ganges, in almost
every case come from beyond the range we call
the Himalaya. Their sources lie in that unknown
land north of the so-called main chain. Whether
there is a loftier and more magnificent range behind
is at present doubtful, but reports of higher peaks
further north than Devadhunga (Mount Everest)
reach us from time to time. The Indian Govern-
ment occasionally sends out trained natives from
the survey department to collect information about
these districts where Englishmen are forbidden to
go, and it is to their efforts that the various details

1 Narratives of the Mission oj George Bogle to Tibet and of the Journey
of Thomas Manning to Lhasa. By Clements R. Markham, C.B., F.R.S.
1876.

10 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

we tind on maps relating to these countries are
due. Some day the lower ranges leading up to
the great snow-covered mountains will be opened
to the English. Sanatoria will be established, tea
j limitations will appear on the slopes of the
Nepaulese hills, as is now the case at Darjeeling,
and then only will the exploration of the mountains
really begin, for which, at the present day, as far
as Tibet and Nepaul are concerned, we have even
less facilities than the Schlagintweits and Hooker
had forty to fifty years ago.

From the mountaineer's point of view, little has
been accomplished amongst the Himalaya, and of
the thousands of peaks of 20,000 feet and upwards
hardly twenty have been climbed. The properly
equipped expeditions made to these mountains
merely for the sport of mountaineering may be
said to be less than half a dozen. Of course the
officers in charge of the survey department have
done invaluable work, which, however, often had
to be carried out by men unacquainted (from a
purely climbing point of view) with the higher
developments of mountain craft. To this, however,
there are exceptions, notably Mr. W. H. Johnson,
who worked on the Karakoram range.

To omit work done by the earlier travellers, the
first prominent piece of mountaineering seems to

IN THE HIMALAYA 11

have been achieved by Captain Gerard in the Spiti
district. In the year 1818 he attempted the ascent
of Leo Porgyul, but was unsuccessful after reaching
a height of 19,400 feet (trigonometrically surveyed).
Ten years later he made the first successful ascent
of a mountain (unnamed) of 20,400 feet. Speaking
of his wanderings in 1817-21, he says: 'I have
visited thirty-seven places at different times between
14,000 and 19,400 feet, and thirteen of my camps
were upwards of 15,000 feet.' During the years
1848-49-50 Sir Joseph Hooker made his famous
journeys into the Himalaya from Darjeeling
through Sikkim. Obtaining leave to travel in East
Nepaul, he traversed a district that since then has
been entirely closed to Europeans. By travelling
to the westward of Darjeeling he crossed into
Nepaul, explored the Tambur river as far as Wal-
lanchoon, whence he ascended to the head of a
snow pass, 16,756 feet, leading over to the valley
of the Arun river, which rises far away northward
of Kanchenjunga. On the pass he experienced his
first attack of mountain sickness, suffering from
headache, giddiness, and lassitude. At this point
he was probably nearer to Devadhunga 1 (Mount
Everest) than any European has ever been, the
mountain being only fifty miles away. From the

1 Tibetan name : Joino-kaug-kar.

12 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

summit of another pass in East Nepaul, the Choon-
jerma pass, 10,000 feet, he no doubt saw Devad-
hunga. From here he returned to Sikkim, and
travelled to Mon Lepcha, immediately at the south-
west of Kanehenjunga. During the next year he
visited the passes on the north-east of Kanehenjunga
leading into Tibet and ascended three of them,
the Kongra Lama pass, 15,745 feet; the Tunkra
pass, 16,083 feet; and the Donkia pass, 18,500
feet. From Bhomtso, 18,590 feet, the highest and
most northerly point reached by him, a magnificent
view to the northward into Tibet was obtained ; and
Dr. Hooker mentions having seen from this point
two immense mountains over one hundred miles
distant to the north of Nepaul. It was during
his return to Darjeeling that he and Dr. Campbell
were made prisoners by the Raja of Sikkim.

During the years 1854-58 the two brothers,
Adolf and Robert Schlagintweit wandered through
a large portion of the Himalaya. They were the
first explorers who possessed any real knowledge
of snow work, having gained their experience in
the Alps. Starting from Nynee Tal they followed
the Pindar river to its source, just under the
southern slopes of Nanda Devi. Then crossing to
the north-east by a pass about 17,700 feet high,
they reached Milam on the Gori river, whence they

IN THE HIMALAYA 13

penetrated into Tibet over several passes averaging
18,000 feet. In this district, never since visited
by Europeans, they made more than one glacier
expedition, finally returning over the main chain,
close to Kamet or Ibi Gamin (25,443 feet), on
the slopes of which they remained for a fortnight,
their highest camp being at 19,326 feet. An un-
successful attempt was made on the peak, for they
were forced to retreat after ha vino- reached an
altitude of 22,259 feet. Returning over the Mana
pass to the valley of the Sarsuti river, they
descended to Badrinath. The upper valley of the
Indus north of Kashmir was next explored, and
Adolf, having crossed the Karakoram pass, was
murdered at Kashgar. 1 In the Journal of the
Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal (vol. xxxv.) will
be found a paper by the two brothers on the
' Comparative Hypsometrical and Physical Features
of High Asia, the Andes, and the Alps,' which
deals in a most interesting manner with the respec-
tive features of these several mountain ranges.

In the years 1860-1865 Mr. W. H. Johnson,
whilst engaged on the Kashmir Survey, established
a large number of trigonometrical stations at a
height of over 20,000 feet. One of his masonry

1 Cp. Travels in Laddk Tartary and Kashmir, Lieut. -Colonel Torrens.
1862, pp. 350-360, Appendix.

U HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

plat tonus on the top of a peak 21,500 feet high is
Baid to be visible from Leh in Ladak. The highest
point he probably reached was during an expedi-
tion made from the district Changchenmo north of
the Pangong lake in the year 1864. Travelling
northwards he made his way through the moun-
tains to the Yarkand road, and at one point, being
unable to proceed, he found it necessary to climb
over the mountain range at a height of 22,300 feet,
where the darkness overtook him, and he was forced
to spend the night at 22,000 feet. In the next
year, 1865, on his journey to Khutan he was
obliged to wait for permission to enter Turkestan ;
and being anxious to obtain as much knowledge of
the country to the north as possible, he climbed
three peaks— E 57 , 21,757 feet; E 58 , 21,971 feet;
and E 61 , 23,890 feet (?). The heights of the first
two mountains have been accurately determined by
a series of trigonometrical observations, but there
has probably been some error made in the height
of the last, E 61 .

Mr. Johnson was a most enthusiastic moun-
taineer, and, owing to a suggestion made by him
and Mr. Drew to the Asiatic Society of Bengal,
efforts were made in 1866 to form a Himalayan
Club, but through want of support and sympathy
the club was never started. Mountaineering was

IN THE HIMALAYA ,15

indeed in those days so little appreciated by the
political department of India that this journey of
Mr. Johnson's in 1865 was made the excuse for a
reprimand, owing to which he left the Service and
took employment under the Maharaja of Kashmir.

About the same time that Johnson was explor-
ing the district to the north and north-east of
Ladak, the officers of the survey, Captain T. G.
Montgomerie, H. H. Godwin Austen, and others,
were actively at work on the Astor Gilgit and
Skardu districts. They pushed glacier exploration
much further than had been done before ; and it
is quite remarkable how much they accomplished
when one considers that in those days climbers had
only just learned the use of ice-axes and ropes, and
the knowledge of ice and snow even in the Alps
was very limited. The exploration of the Baltoro
glacier, the discovery of the second highest peak
in the Himalaya — K 2 , 28,278 feet— and the peaks
Gusherbrum and Masherbrum, by H. H. Godwin
Austen, and his ascent of the Punmah glacier to
the old Mustagh pass will remain as marvels of
mountain exploration.

In the next ten or fifteen years but little
mountaineering was done in the Himalaya. The
Government Survey in Garhwal, Kumaon, and
Sikkim was carried on, and more correct maps of

L6 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

the mountain ranges in these parts were issued.
< )n Kamet about 22,000 feet was reached. In
Sikkim, Captain Harman, during his work for the
survey, made several attempts to climb some of
the loftier peaks. He revisited the Donkia pass,
and, like Dr. Hooker, saw from it the two enormous
peaks far away to the north of Nepaul. In order
to measure their height trigonometrically, he re-
mained on the summit of the pass (18,500 feet)
all night, but unfortunately was so severely frost-
bitten that ultimately he was invalided home.

In the year 1883 Mr. W. W. Graham started for
India with the Swiss guide Joseph Imboden, on a
purely mountaineering expedition ; he first went to
Sikkim, then attacked the group round Nanda
Devi in Garhwal, and later returned to Sikkim and
the mountains near Kanchenjimga.

This expedition of Graham's remains still the
most successful mountaineering effort that has been
made amongst the Himalaya. No less than seven
times was he above 20,000 feet on the mountains,
the three highest ascents being, Kabru (Sikkim),
24,015 feet, A" 1 or Mount Monal (Garhwal), 22,516
feet, and a height of 22,500 - 22,700 feet on
Dunagiri (Garhwal). It is perhaps to be regretted
that Graham did not write a book setting forth in
detail all his experiences, though a short account of

IN THE HIMALAYA 17

his travels and ascents may be found in vol. xii.
of the Alpine Club Journal.

Arriving at Darjeeling early in 1883, he and
Imboden made their way to Jongri just under
Kanchenjunga on the south-west, and climbed a
peak, Kang La, 20,300 feet. The Guicho La (pass),
16,000 feet, between Kanchenjunga and Pundim,
was ascended, but as the end of March was much too
early in the year for climbing, they returned to Dar-
jeeling, and Imboden then went back to Europe.
It was not till the end of June that Graham was
joined by Emil Boss and Ulrich Kauffmann, who
came out from Grindelwald. They started from
Nynee Tal to attack Nanda Devi, travelling to
Rini on the Dhauli river, just to the westward of
Nanda Devi. From Rini they proceeded up the
Rishiganga, which runs down from the glaciers
on the west of Nanda Devi, but they were
stopped in the valley by an impassable gorge that
had been cut by a glacier descending from the
Trisuli peaks. Obliged to retreat, they next at-
tacked Dunagiri, 23,184 feet; after climbing over
two peaks, 17,000 and 18,000 feet, they camped at
18,400 feet, and finally got to a point from which
they could see the top of A 22 , 21,001 feet over the
top of A 21 , 22,516 feet, and must therefore have been
at least at a height of 22,700 feet. Unfortunately

18 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

hail, wind, and snow drove Graham and Boss off the
peak within 500 feet of the top — Kauffmann had
given in some distance lower down — and it was
only with difficulty that they were able to return
to their camp, which Mas reached in the dark.

The weather then obliged them to return to Itini,
from which place they again started for Nanda Devi.
This time they went up the north bank of the Rishi-
ganga. After illness, the desertion of their coolies,
and all the sufferings produced by cold and wet
weather, they reached the glacier in four days, only
to find that again they were cut off from it by a per-
pendicular cliff of 200 feet, down which the glacier
torrent poured. Their attempt to cross the stream
was also fruitless ; so, baffled for the second time,
they were forced to return to their camping-ground
under Dunagiri at Dunassau, from which place they
climbed A 21 , 22,516 feet, by the western ridge, calling
it Mount Monal. They then tried A 22 , 21,001 feet,
but were stopped by difficult rocks after reaching
a point about 20,000 feet. By the middle of
August Graham was back again in Sikkim and
got to Jongri by September 2. With Boss and
Kauffmann he explored the west side of Kabru and
the glacier which comes down from Kanchenjunga,
But the weather was continuously bad ; they started
to climb Jubonu, but were turned back. Then they

IN THE HIMALAYA 19

crossed the Guicho La to ascend Pundim, but found
it impossible ; more bad weather kept them idle till
the end of the month. They then managed to
ascend Jubonu, 21,300 feet. A few days later they
went up the glacier which lies on the south-east
of Kabru, camping at 18,400 feet; and starting at
4.30 a.m. they succeeded, owing to a favourable
state of the mountain, in reaching the summit,
24,015 feet (or rather, the summit being cleft into
three gashes, they got into one of these, about 30
feet from the true top). It was not till 10 p.m.
that they returned to their camp. The last peak
they ascended was one 19,000 feet on the Nepaul
side of the Kang La. Thus ended this most re-
markable series of ascents, carried out often under
the most difficult circumstances. Graham, from his
account of his travels, was evidently not a man to
talk about all the discomforts and hardships of
climbing at these altitudes, and this lack of infor-
mation about his feelings and sensations above
20,000 feet has been urged against him as a proof
that he never got to 24,000 feet at all. But any
one who will take the trouble to read his account
of the ascent of Kabru, cannot fail to admit that he
must have climbed the peak lying on the south-west
of Kanchenjunga, viz. Kabru, for there is no other
high peak there which he could have ascended

20 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

from his starting-point except Kanchenjunga itself;
moreover, unless he had climbed Kabru, neither
he nor Emil Boss could have seen Devadhunga
nor the two enormous peaks to the north-west,
which they distinctly state must be higher than
Devadhunga. Now, if they climbed Kabru, they
were at a height of 24,000 feet whether they
had a barometer with them or not, for that is
the height determined by the Ordnance Survey.
The heights reached in all their other completed
ascents are vouched for in the same way, for if a
mountain has been properly measured by triangu-
lation, its height is known with a greater degree
of accuracy than can ever be obtained by taking
a barometer to the summit.

The next real mountaineering expedition after
that of Graham was in 1892, when Sir Martin
Conway, together with Major Bruce, and M. Zur-
briggen as guide, explored a large part of the
Mustagh range. In all they made some sixteen
ascents to heights of 16,000 feet and upwards, the
highest being Pioneer peak, 22,600 feet.

Arriving at Gilgit in May, when much winter
snow still lay low down on the mountains, they first
explored the Bagrot nullah. Here they ascended
several glaciers and surveyed the country. But
huge avalanches continually falling entirely stopped

IN THE HIMALAYA 21

any high climbing. They therefore went into the
Hunza Nagyr valley as far as Nagyr. In the mean-
time, as the weather was bad, they investigated first
the Samayar and afterwards the Shallihu.ru glaciers.
At the head of the former a pass was climbed, the
Daranshi saddle, 17,940 feet, and a peak called the
Dasskaram needle, 17,660 feet. They then returned
to the Nagyr valley and reached the foot of the
great Hispar glacier, 10,320 feet. From here they
travelled to the Hispar pass, 17,650 feet, nearly
forty miles, thence down the Biafo glacier, another
thirty miles. The Hispar pass is therefore the
longest snow pass traversed outside the Arctic
regions. About half way up the Hispar glacier
Bruce left Conway and climbed over the Nushik
La, but joined him again later at Askole.

From Askole the Baltoro glacier was ascended.
Near its head the summit of Crystal peak, 19,400
feet, on the north side of the valley, was reached.
From the summit, the Mustagh tower, a rival in
height to K 2 , 28,278 feet, was seen. To quote Con-
way's description : ' Away to the left, peering over
a neighbouring rib like the one we were ascending,
rose an astonishing tower. Its base was buried in
clouds, and a cloud- banner waved on one side of
it, but the bulk was clear, and the right-hand
outline was a vertical cliff. We afterwards dis-

22 HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

covered that it was equally vertical on the other
side. This peak rises in the immediate vicinity of
the Mustagh pass, and is one of the most extra-
ordinary mountains for form we anywhere beheld.'

Two days later they made another climb on a
ridge to the east, and parallel to the one previously
climbed. From here they first saw K 2 . Amongst
the magnificent circle of peaks that surrounded
them at this spot, many of which were over
25,000 feet, one only seemed to offer any chance
of being climbed. This was the Golden Throne.
It stands at the head of the Baltoro glacier, differing
greatly in form and structure from its neighbours ;
and of all the mountains it seemed most accessible.

Amongst, however, the enormous glaciers and
snowfields that eclipse probably those of any other
mountains in ordinary latitudes, even to arrive
at the beginning of the climbing was a problem
of much difficulty. To again quote : ' We struggled
round the base of the Golden Throne, up
2000 feet of ice-fall to a plateau where we
camped ; then we forced a camp on to a second,
and again on to a third platform .... we got
daily weaker as we ascended .... we finally
reached the foot of the ridge which was to lead us,
as we supposed, to the top of the Golden Throne.
It was an ice-ridge, and not as we hoped of snow,

IN THE HIMALAYA 23

and it did not lead us to the top but to a detached
point in the midst of the two main buttresses of the
Throne.' This peak they named Pioneer peak, 22,600
feet. After this climb they returned to Kashmir.

Major Bruce, who accompanied Sir M. Conway
in this expedition, has been climbing in the
Himalaya for many years. In 1893, whilst at
Chitral with Capt. F. Younghusband, he ascended
Ispero Zorn. In July of the same year he made
several ascents near Hunza on the Dhaltar peaks
— the highest point reached being 18,000 feet.
During August of the same year he climbed to
17,000 feet above Phekkar near Nagyr, with Cap-
tain B. E. M. Gurdon, and even in December, at
Dharmsala, he had some mountaineering.

Major Bruce has done some excellent mountain-
eering in a district that may be said to be his alone,
namely in Khaghan, a district south-west of Nanga
Parbat and north of Abbottabad. Here, in company
with Harkabir Thapa and other Gurkhas, a great
deal of climbing has been accomplished, the district
having been visited almost every year since 1894.

The best piece of climbing in Khaghan was the
ascent of the most northern Ragee-Bogee peaks
(16,700 feet), by Harkabir Thapa alone. This peak
is close to the Shikara pass, though separated by
one peak from it.

HISTORY OF MOUNTAINEERING

Another district visited by Major Bruce in 1898
was in Ladakh cast of Kashmir — the Nun Kun
range. Several new passes were traversed, and
peaks up to 19,500 feet were climbed. 1

There is certainly no mountaineer who has a
record of Himalayan climbing to compare with
Major Bruce's, ranging as it does from Chitral on
the west to Sikkim on the east. In fact, to show
how the mountains exercise a magnetic influence
on him, in the summer of 1898 he saw, what no
one had ever seen before, in the short space of tw T o
months, the three highest mountains in the world :
Devadhunga, K 2 , and Kanchenjunga.

In 1898 Dr. and Mrs. Bullock Workman traversed
several passes in Ladak, Nubra, and Suru ; and in
1899, with M. Zurbriggen as guide, went to Askole
and up the Biafo glacier to the Hispar Pass. Then
they climbed the Siegfried Horn, 18, GOO feet, and
Mount Bullock- Workman, 19,450 feet, both near the
Skoro La. Afterwards, returning to the Shigar val-
ley, Mount Koser Gunge, 21,000 feet, was ascended.

The last mountaineering expedition to the Hima-
laya was that of Mr. Douglas Freshfield, who, in com-
pany with Signor V. Sella, Mr. E. Garwood, and A.
Maquignaz as guide, made the tour of Kanchen-
junga, crossing the Jonsong La, 21,000 feet.

1 Alpine Journal, vol. xx. p. 311.

CHAPTEE II

OUR JOURNEY OUT TO NANGA PARBAT

' And go
Eastward along the sea, to mount the lands
Beyond man's dwelling, and the rising steeps
That face the sun untrodden and unnamed. —
Know to earth's verge remote thou then art come,
The Scythian tract and wilderness forlorn,
Through whose rude rocks and frosty silences
No path shall guide thee then, . . .
There as thou toilest o'er the treacherous snows.'

E, Bridges.

Amongst mountaineers, who has not at some time
or another looked at the map of India, wishing at
the same time for an opportunity to visit the
Himalaya ? to see Kanchenjunga, Devadhunga,
Nanda Devi, Nanga Parbat, or any of the hundreds
of snow- clad mountains, every one of which is higher
than the loftiest peaks of other lands ? to wander
through the valleys filled with tropical vegetation
until the higher grounds are reached, where the
great glaciers lie like frozen rivers amidst the
white mountains, while the green pasturages and
pine woods below bask in the sunshine ? to travel
through the land where all natural things are on

OUR JOURNEY OUT

i big scale, a land of great rivers and mighty
mountains, a land where even the birds and beasts
are of larger size, a land that was peopled many
centuries ago with civilised races, when Western
Europe was in a state of barbarism ? But these
Himalaya are far away, and often as one may wish
some day to start for this marvellous land, yet
the propitious day never dawns, and less ambi-
tious journeys are all that the Fates will allow.
Although it had seemed most unlikely that I
should ever be fortunate enough to visit the Hima-
laya, yet at last the time arrived when my dream
became a reality. I have seen the great mountains
of the Hindu Kush and the Karakoram ranges,
from Tirach Mir over Chitral to K 2 at the head
of the Baltoro glacier ; I have wandered in that
waste land, the marvellous gorge of the Indus.
I have stopped at Chilas, one of the outposts of
civilisation in the wild Shinaki country, where not
many years ago no white man could venture. I
have passed through the defile at Lechre, where
in 1841 a landslip from the northern buttress of
Nanga Parbat dammed back the whole Indus for
six months, until finally the pent-up masses of
water, breaking suddenly through the thousands
of feet of debris, burst with irresistible force
down through that unknown mountain-land lying

TO NANGA PARBAT 27

below Chilas for many hundreds of miles, till at
last the whirling flood, no longer hemmed in by
the hills, swept out on to the open plains near
Attock, and in one night annihilation was the fate
of a whole Sikh army. Also I have seen the
northern side of the mighty Nanga Parbat, the
greatest mountain face in the whole world, rising
without break from the scorching sands of the Bunji
plain, first to the cool pine woods and fertile valleys
five thousand feet above, next to the glaciers, and
further back and higher to the ice-clad avalanche-
swept precipices which ring round the topmost
snows of Nanga Parbat itself, whose summit towers
26,629 feet above sea-level, and 23,000 feet above
the Indus at its base : whilst further to the north-
ward Rakipushi and Haramosh, both 25,000 feet
high, seem only to be outlying sentinels of grander
and loftier ranges behind.

It was in 1894 that the late Mr. A. F. Mummery
and Mr. G. Hastings arranged that if they could
obtain permission from the Indian Government to
visit that part of Kashmir in which Nanga Parbat
lies, they would start from England in June 1895,
and attempt the ascent. Early in 1895 I made
such arrangements (owing to the kindness of
Professor Ramsay of London University College)
that I was able to join the expedition.

28 OUR JOURNEY OUT

We left England on June 20, joining the
P. and 0. steamer Caledonia at Brindisi. The
voyage was delightful till we left Aden — even in
the Red Sea the temperature never rising above
00°, — but once in the Indian Ocean we experienced
the full force of the monsoon ; and it was exceedingly
rough from there to Bombay, which we reached
on July 5. Two days later we arrived at Rawul
Pindi, having had a very hot journey on the railway,
a maximum of 103° being experienced between
Umballa and Kawul Pindi.

At the latter place the foothills of the Himalaya
were seen for the first time, rising out of the plains
of the Panjab. And that night, amidst a terrific
thunderstorm, the breaking of the monsoon on the
hills, we slept in dak bungalow just short of
Murree. From Bawul Pindi to Baramula, in the
vale of Kashmir, an excellent road exists, along
which one is able to travel in a tonga. These
strongly built two-wheel carriages complete the
journey of about one hundred and seventy miles
in two or three days. Owing, however, to the
monsoon rain, we found the road in many places
in a perilous condition. Bridges had been washed
away, great boulders many feet thick had rolled
down the mountain - side sometimes to find a
resting-place in the middle of the road, sometimes

P«r ©

*<•/'«■>?> M /spar

JPass

Askole.

Scale of English Mil.-

Routes Heights in feet

Mustajh^^ Godwin Austen
Tower** K, •. 2a278

27000 ^J jh,

. K! < £~

Glacier 26*83 "**

^31^^

25<H5 *

24,352

Nubra P* a

25,163

Skaj'du

I Pass

*Zqji La

q 2a)*47 Peaks

Nun Kun

<$>

«4

Rem,

°lek

**x

° Chamba

J Barttolcnuev ,', '. ' \

TO NANGA PARBAT 29

to go crashing through it ; in one place the whole
mountain-side was slowly moving down, road and
all, into the Jhelum river below at the bottom of
the valley. But on the evening of July 9 we
safely reached Baramula.

Beyond Baramula it is necessary to take a flat-
bottomed boat or punt, called a dunga, traversing
the vale of Kashmir by water. This valley of
Kashmir, about which so much has been written,
is beyond all adequate description. Situated as
it is, 6000 feet above sea - level, in an old
lake basin amongst the Himalaya, its climate is
almost perfect. A land of lakes and waterways,
splendid trees and old ruins, vines, grass-lands,
flowers, and pine forests watered by cool streams
from the snow ranges that encircle it, with a climate
during the summer months like that of the south
of France — no wonder this valley of Kashmir is
beautiful.

In length about eighty miles, and twenty-five
miles in breadth, it lies surrounded by giant peaks.
Haramukh, 16,903 feet, is quite close ; to the east-
ward rise the Nun Kun peaks, 23,447 feet ; whilst
to the north Nanga Parbat, 26,629 feet high, can
be seen from the hill stations. The atmospheric
colours in the clear air are for ever changing, and
no better description of them can be given than one

TO NANGA PARBAT 29

OUR JOURNEY OUT

by Walter EL Lawrence in his classical work on the

VnJI ci/ of Kashmir, where as settlement officer

Bpent several years. He says, 'In the early

morning the mountains are often a delicate semi-

transparent violet, relieved against a saffron sky
and with light vapours clinging round their crests.
Then the rising sun deepens shadows and produces
sharp outlines and strong passages of purple and
indigo in the deep ravines. Later on it is nearly
all blue and lavender with white snow peaks and
ridges under a vertical sun, and as the afternoon
wears on these become richer violet and pale bronze,
gradually changing to rose and pink with yellow
and orange snow, till the last rays of the sun have
gone, leaving the mountains dyed a ruddy crimson,
with snows showing a pale creamy green by
contrast. Looking downward from the mountains,
the valley in the sunshine has the hues of the
opal ; the pale reds of the Karewa, the vivid light
greens of the young rice, and the darker shades
of the groves of trees, relieved by sunlit sheets,
gleams of water, and soft blue haze, give a com-
bination of tints reminding one irresistibly of
the changing hues of that gem. It is impossible
to do justice to the beauty and the grandeur of
the mountains of Kashmir, or to enumerate the
lovely glades and forests visited by so few.'

TO NANGA PARBAT 31

Nowadays Kashmir is a prosperous country.
But before the settlement operations were taken in
hand (1887) by Lawrence the country-people were
suffering from every kind of abuse and tyranny.
Now it is all changed, and under the rule of Maha-
raja Pratab Singh, who resolved that this settlement
should be carried out and gave it his loyal support,
the country-folk are contented and prosperous ; the
fields are properly cultivated, without fear that
the harvest will be reaped by some extortionate
official ; the houses are rebuilt, and the orchards,
gardens, and vineyards are well looked after. It
was not till my return from the mountains that I
had a chance of spending a few days in this
fascinating valley.

After leaving Baramula our route lay for some
time up the Jhelum river, which drains most of the
vale of Kashmir ; but soon we emerged on the
Woolar lake, and in the grey morning light
the hills that completely encircle the valley could
be partly seen through the long streams of white
mist that draped them. The lake was perfectly
calm, and reflected on its surface the nearer hills.
Soon we came to miles of floating water-lilies in
bloom, whilst on the banks quaint mud houses and
farms, encircled with poplar, walnut, and chenar
trees, were visible ; and, beyond, great distances of

82 OUR JOURNEY OUT

prrasfl Lands and orchards stretched back to the
mountains.

But we were not across the lake. From the
westward a rain- cloud was approaching, and soon
the whole face of nature was changed. Small
waves arose ; then a blast of wind swept down part
of the matting which served as an awning to our
boat, and in a moment we were in danger of being
swamped. The rowers at once began to talk wildly,
evidently in great fear of drowning. Several
other dungas, which were near and in the same
plight as our own, came up, so all the boats were
lashed together by ropes. Meanwhile the women
and children (for the Kashmiri lives on the dunga
with his wife and family) were screaming and
throwing rice on the troubled waters, presumably
to propitiate the evil beings who were responsible
for the perilous state of affairs, and seemingly this
offering to the gods was effective, for the angry
deity, the storm-cloud, passed on, the wind dropped,
and without further adventure we made land at
Bandipur on the northern shore of the lake in
warm sunshine.

Here we found ponies which had been hired for
us by Major C. G. Bruce of the 5th Gurkhas.
He had travelled all the way from Khaghan to
Kashmir in order to engage servants, ponies, etc.,

TO NANGA PARBAT 33

and had spent a fortnight out of a month's leave in
arranging these matters for us who were strangers
to him. Since that time I have seen much more
of Bruce, but I shall always remember this kind-
ness. I may also say that during the whole of our
expedition the military and political officers, and
others whom we met, invariably helped us in every
way possible.

On July 11 we loaded the ponies with our
baggage and started for Nanga Parbat. Our route
lay over the Tragbal or Raj Diangan pass, 11,950
feet. On the further side we descended to Kan-
jalwan in the valley of the Kishnganga river. Up
this valley about twelve miles is the village of
Gurais, where we were nearly stopped by the
tahsildar, a most important village official. We
wanted more ponies, which he of course promised,
but next morning they were not forthcoming.
Messages were useless, and seemingly persuasion
also was of no avail, he assuring us that there were
no ponies, and telling us every kind of lie with the
utmost oriental politeness. Mummery was, how-
ever, equal to the occasion. He wrote out a
telegram, which of course he never intended to
send, the contents of which he had translated
to the tahsildar. It was addressed to the British
Resident at Srinagar, asking what should be done

34 OUR JOURNEY OUT

with a miserable official at Gurais who would give
us neither help nor ponies. The effect was magical.
In less than ten minutes we had three times as
many ponies as we wanted, and that too in a dis-
trict where everything with four legs was being
pressed into the service of the Gilgit commissariat.
The tahsildar rode several miles up the valley with
us, finally insisting that Mummery should ride his
pony, and return it after two or three days when
convenient.

Just above Gurais we left the valley of the
Kishnganga, and turned to the left or north-east
up the valley of the Burzil. From this valley two
passes lead over the range into the country that
drains down the Astor nullah to the Indus : the
first is the Kamri, 12,438 feet, the second the
Burzil or Dorikoon pass, 13,900 feet, over which the
military road to Gilgit has been made. Both these
passes ultimately lead to Astor. We chose the
Kamri, for we were told that better forage for our
ponies could be obtained on the northern slopes.
We crossed the pass on July 14, finding still some
of the winter snows unmelted on the top.

From the summit we had our first view of Nanga
Parbat, over forty miles away, but rising in dazzling
whiteness far above all the intervening ranges.
There is nothing in the Alps that can at all com-

TO NANGA PARBAT 35

pare with it in grandeur, and although often one
is unable to tell whether a mountain is really big,
or only appears so, this was not the case with
Nanga Parbat as seen from the Kamri. It was
huge, immense ; and instinctively we took off our
hats in order to show that we approached in a
proper spirit.

Two days later we camped at Rattu, where we
found Lieutenant C. G. Stewart encamped with his
mountain battery. He showed us the guns (weigh-
ing 2 cwt. each) which he had taken over the
Shandur pass in deep snow when accompanying
Colonel Kelly from Gilgit to the relief of Chitral.
During this passage he became snow-blind.

The forcing of the Shandur pass was one of the
hardest pieces of work in the whole of the relief of
Chitral, and the moral effect produced was invalu-
able. For the Chitralis were under the impression
that even troops without guns could not cross the
pass. Imagine their consternation when a well-
equipped force, together with a mountain battery,
was at the head of the Mastuj river leading down
to Chitral.

After we had been hospitably entertained by
Lieutenant Stewart, and duly admired his splendid
mule battery, we left the next day, July 16, and
finally, in the dark that night, camped at the base

OUR JOURNEY OUT

of Nanga Parbat. During tbe day the ponies that
we had hired only came as far as a village named
Zaipur, where we paid off our men, and sent them
and the ponies back to Bandipur.

We did not, however, wish to camp at Zaipur,
which lay on the south side of the Rupal torrent,
but were anxious to cross to Chorit, a village
opposite, and then go on to Tashing. How this
was to be accomplished was not at first sight very
plain. But the villagers were most willing to help,
and those of the Chorit village came down on the
further bank, in all about fifty to sixty men. Then
bridge-building began ; tons of stones and brush-
wood were built out into the raging glacier torrent ;
next pine trunks were neatly fixed on the canti-
lever system in these piers on both sides, and when
the two edifices jutted far enough out into the
stream, several thick pine trunks, about fifty feet
long, were toppled across, and prevented from
being washed down the stream by our Alpine
ropes, which were tied to their smaller ends.
Several of these trunks were then placed across
between the two piers, and after three hours' hard
work the bridge was finished. For this magnificent
engineering achievement the headmen of the two
villages were presented with two rupees. We
did not camp at Tashing, but crossed the glacier

TO NANGA PARBAT 37

immediately above the village, and in a hollow
amongst a grove of willows set up our tents.

We had taken twenty-seven days from London
travelling continuously, but the weather was per-
fect. We were on the threshold of the unknown,
and the untrodden nullahs round Nanga Parbat
awaited us.

CHAPTER III

THE RUPAL NULLAH

1 And thus these threatening ranges of dark mountain, which,
in nearly all ages of the world, men have looked upon with
aversion or with terror, are, in reality, sources of life and
happiness far fidler and more beneficent than the bright fruit-
fulnesses of the plain.' — Modem Painters.

Our cainp in the Rupal nullah was certainly most
picturesque, pitched on a slightly sloping bank of
grass, strewn with wild-flowers and surrounded
by a species of willow-tree which, during the hot
midday sunshine, afforded most welcome shade.
Firewood could be easily obtained in abundance
from the dead stems and branches of the thicket,
and water from a babbling stream which descended
from the lower slopes of Nanga Parbat, almost
within a stone's-throw of our tents.

Determined after our week's walk from Bandipur
to make the most of our delightful camp, we spent
the next day, July 17, in blissful laziness, doing
hardly anything. We pretended now and again to
busy ourselves with the tents and the baggage. A
willow branch which hung in front of our tent door

////?///■///?/// ■ ' ////////

THE RUPAL NULLAH 39

would need breaking off, or a rope tightening. But
the day was really a holiday, and our most serious
occupation was to bask in the warm sunshine and
inhale the keen, bracing mountain air fresh from
the snow-fields at the head of the Rupal nullah.

The sense of absolute freedom, of perfect con-
tentment with our present lot, blessed gift of the
mountains to their true and faithful devotees, was
beginning to steal over us. Languidly we talked
about the morrow, our only regret arising from our
inability to catch a glimpse of that monarch of
the mountains, Nanga Parbat, and the ice-fringed
precipices which overhang his southern face.

The Rupal is the largest nullah close to Nanga
Parbat. It runs eastwards from the peaks by the
Thosho pass under the whole southern face of
Nanga Parbat, till it joins the valley coming down
from the Kamri pass, some eight miles below
Tashing. The total length is about twenty-five
miles in a straight line, but only those who have
wandered in these Himalayan nullahs know how
that twenty-five miles can be lengthened. The
interminable ups and downs, which with endless
repetition confront the traveller, now descending on
to glaciers by steep moraine walls, now scrambling
over loose stones and debris, or crossing from one
side of the nullah to the other, all the variations

40 THE RUPAL NULLAH

which a mountain path strews with such pro-
digality in the way, set measurement at defiance,
and no man may tell the true length of a nullah
twenty-five miles long. The inhabitants are wise ;
they speak only of a day's journey, and later we
easily dropped into their w r ays, miles being hardly
ever mentioned. In fact, to show how deceptive
measurement by the map may be, when late in
August we left the Diamirai nullah with the whole
of our camp baggage to reach the next big nullah,
the Rakiot, the traverse over two easy passes just
below the snow-line took us no less than three
days from early in the morning till late at night,
though the distance as the crow flies is only ten
miles.

Tashing, the village, which lay a few miles below
us down the valley, is large and prosperous, the
peasants owning many flocks and herds. Chickens,
eggs, and milk are plentiful, and situated as it is
some distance from the Gilgit road, any surplus stock
of provisions is not depleted to the same extent
as is the case with hamlets in the Astor valley.
Sheep, which are small and not easy to obtain at
Astor, may be purchased without difficulty at
Tashing. Not many years ago Tashing used to
be periodically raided by the Chilas tribesmen, who
lived on the western slopes of the Nanga Parbat

Scale of English Miles

Heights in feet

Dichil
Peak

^ / PhaJrai^kDt• yp

15,095
16053

JBartkolomenri CcIimT

»•**

°-"° ii MAP or

l mmm pabbax

, w .

Sol. of E^ijluh MiU.

»„„<« »».fr*u,.ft* »

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THE RUPAL NULLAH 41

range. They, like the old border thieves, would
swarm over the Mazeno and Thosho passes and
lift all the sheep and goats they could find, some-
times even taking the women as well. This, how-
ever, is now completely stopped since we ' pacified '
Chilas. Mountain robbers of course still harass
the land, but they have been driven further to the
westward, and now it is the Chilas folk themselves
who are the victims. In fact we heard later that
at the end of July the tribesmen from Kohistan
and Thur (to the south-west of Chilas) were pillag-
ing the country at the head of the Bunar and
Barbusar nullahs, where they had killed several
shepherds and driven away their flocks.

The Rupal nullah above Tashing is fairly fertile,
the vegetation stretching up a considerable dis-
tance. Pine-trees and small brushwood flourish at
the foot of the Bupal or main glacier, whilst for
several miles further on the north side of the valley
grass and dwarf rhododendron bushes grow. The
glaciers from Nanga Parbat sweep across the valley
much in the same way as the Brenva glacier sweeps
across the Val Veni, cutting off the upper pastur-
ages from the villages below. Of course the highest
peak in the neighbourhood is Nanga Parbat itself.
But those on the south-west of the Rupal nullah,
rising as they do some 7000 to 8000 feet above the

12 THE RUPAL NULLAH

floor of the valley, present a most magnificent
spectacle. One especially (marked 20,730 feet)
which stands alone at the head of the nullah,
charms the eye with its beautiful form and exquisite
lines of snow and rock. We christened it the Pupal
peak, whilst its neighbour further west, almost its
equal in size (20,640 feet), we named the Thosho
peak.

Another summit (20,490 feet) to the eastward
might, as it stands at the head of the Chiche
nullah, appropriately be termed the Chiche peak,
and the glacier which descends from it to the end
of the Pupal glacier, the Chiche glacier. A very
good idea of the relative size and form of the great
main range of Nanga Parbat on the north side of
the Rupal nullah may be obtained from the top
of the Kamri pass. The ridge to the westward of
the true summit of Nanga Parbat, stretching as
far as the Mazeno La, does not culminate in any
very pronounced peaks. The lowest point, pro-
bably 19,000 to 20,000 feet, lies a little over a
mile directly west of the top of the mountain. We
have called this dip in the ridge the Nanga Parbat
pass, and two peaks marked 21,442 feet and 20,893
feet the Mazeno peaks. To the eastward of Nanga
Parbat the Pakiot peak, a superb snow-capped
mountain, rises to the height of 23,170 feet, and

THE RUPAL NULLAH 43

here the main ridge turns considerably more to
the north-east, ending in the twin Chongra peaks,
22,360 feet, which overlook Astor and the Chongra
valley. Beyond these a sudden and abrupt fall
in height of about 3000 feet occurs, and the ridge
running more and more in a northerly direction,
and never rising above 18,000 feet in height, con-
stitutes the western boundary of the Astor valley.

The height of our camp in the Rupal nullah was
calculated from observations made with a mercurial
barometer. The difference in level between the
two cisterns was 531 millimetres, from which
observation it was 9900 feet above sea-level. 1

We finally decided that it would be best to ob-
tain a good view of the south face of Nanga Parbat
before we made up our minds whether we should
remain in the Rupal nullah. Two of us, Mummery
and I, agreed to start the next day with the
intention of combining business with pleasure ; in
fact, we had vague ideas about climbing the Chiche
peak, 20,490 feet.

1 All the heights given, other than those taken from the Ordnance
Survey, are deduced from observations made with a novel and portable
form of mercurial barometer, which can be coiled up and carried in a
small tin box in the pocket. As we were unable to make comparative
readings with a second instrument at a known height, the barometrical
readings are, in every case, calculated from the pressure at sea-level
being assumed to be 30 inches. This makes the heights, as a rule, about
S00 feet lower than if 31 inches were taken as the normal seadevel
pressure.

II THE RUPAL NULLAH

Od July 18 we set out early. Our route lay
up the north side of the Rupal nullah through the
lidds of the small hamlet of Rupal. The morning
light, the ripening crops waving in the sunshine, and
the fields backed by pine woods, glaciers, and snow-
peaks, were very beautiful. Unfortunately, as is
usual in this part of the Rupal nullah, we were
unable to obtain any view of the great peak of
Nanga Parbat, our path taking us directly under-
neath it. Above the Rupal village the Nanga Par-
bat glacier sweeps across the valley from underneath
the summit of the peak. This glacier, which owes
its formation to avalanches perpetually falling down
the southern face of the mountain, lies across the
Rupal nullah almost at right angles, and forms a
huge embankment varying from 500 to 800 feet
high. The route up the nullah here turns off to
the right, following a hollow which has been formed
between the mountain-side and the true left bank
of the glacier, and which we found well wooded,
with a clear stream running down the centre. In
all the larger nullahs the same conditions were
conspicuous : usually for several miles up the valley
above the end of the glacier a subsidiary valley
would exist, between the side moraine of the glacier
and the hill-side. These side moraines are often
clothed with huge pine-trees, whilst below, birches

THE RUPAL NULLAH 45

and willows, dwarf rhododendrons and wild roses,
cover the pasturages.

A climb of about 200 feet is necessary to take
one on to the Nanga Parbat glacier, which at this
point is flush with the top of the moraine, and, like
so many others in this district, is littered with
stones of all sizes. Though much more uneven, it is
similar to the lower end of glaciers such as the
Zmutt or the Miage. On the west side of the
glacier a steep descent must be made down on to
the bottom of the Rupal nullah. The floor of the
valley here is carpeted with masses of brushwood.
As one proceeds up the nullah two more glaciers,
similar to the Nanga Parbat glacier, descend at a
steep angle from the big peak, but do not stretch
quite across the valley, and can be passed by walking
round between their ends and the Rupal torrent.
Just below the Rupal glacier itself, a well-wooded
stretch of pasture-land opens out, studded with
pines and other trees. Here it was that we saw, or
thought we saw, our first red bear ; he was some
way off, but the keen-eyed shikari saw the bushes
moving, and assured us that the movement was due
to a * Balu,' and as there were traces of these animals
in every direction, probably the shikari was right.

Having made up our minds to camp just at the
end of the Chiche glacier, we tried to effect a cross-

U\ THE RUPAL NULLAH

ing over the Rupal torrent which looked quite
si 1; i How in several places, but these mountain
streams are very deceptive. From a distance of a
hundred yards nothing seems more easy than to
wade across, but to any one in the swirling torrent
the aspect of affairs is very different ; ice-cold
water with insecure and moving stones below is
by no means conducive to a rapid crossing, and
our shikari, who first essayed it, made but little
advance. Ultimately he edged his way safely back
to land, but still on the same side of the stream.
Mummery, who was not to be beaten, next made a
determined effort, but in his turn had to retreat
after having been very nearly swept off his feet.
There was, however, an alternative route. By
ascending the valley to the end of the Rupal glacier
a path would doubtless easily be found on the ice
which would take us across to our camping-ground
for the night. We were not disappointed, and soon
found a spot where our tents could be pitched. The
day had been more or less misty, but towards sun-
set the clouds began partially to roll off the peaks.
Then in the gleaming gold of a Himalayan sunset
we beheld the southern face of Nanga Parbat.
Eagerly we scanned every ridge and glacier, as
naturally we preferred to attack the peak if possible
from the well-provisioned and hospitable Rupal

THE RUPAL NULLAH 47

nullah. Should we be unable to find a feasible
route on this side, then it would be necessary to
move our base of operations over the range into the
wild Chilas country, about which we knew very
little, but where we were certain supplies would be
difficult to obtain. Knight, who was at Astor in
1891, writes of the Chilas country as follows : —

' That white horizon so near me was the limit of
the British Empire, the slopes beyond descending
into the unexplored valleys of the Indus where
dwell the Shinaka tribesmen. Had I crossed the
ridge with my followers, the first human beings we
met would in all probability have cut our heads
off.'

Our survey of the south of Nanga Parbat was
not very encouraging ; directly above the Rupal
nullah the mountain rose almost sheer for 14,000
to 15,000 feet. Precipice towered above precipice.
Hanging glaciers seemed to be perched in all the
most inconvenient places, whilst some idea of the
average angle of this face may be obtained from the
map. The height of the glacier directly under the
summit is about 11,000 to 12,000 feet — that is to
say, in about two miles or less, measured on the
map, there is a difference in height of 15,000 feet.
In the Alps one can only compare it in acclivity
with the Mer de Glace face of the Charmoz and

is THE RUPAL NULLAH

(.'n'pon. On the south face of the Matterhorn or
of Mont Blanc a mile measured on the map would
probably only make a difference in height of some
500<> and 7000 feet respectively. To come to
more familiar instances, the top of the Matterhorn
rises 8000 to 9000 feet above Zermatt, but it is
distant some six or seven miles ; whilst the summit
of Mont Blanc, which is 12,000 feet higher than
Chamounix, is about eight miles off.

One route however seemed to offer some hopes of
success. By climbing a very steep rock buttress
and then traversing an ice ridge, which looked like
a very exaggerated copy of the one on the Brenva
route up Mont Blanc, a higher snow-field could be
gained, from which the Nanga Parbat pass seemed
easy of access. But as the pass was not much
over 20,000 feet, at least another 6000 feet would
have to be ascended, and the rocky ridge which
connected it with the summit would tax the
climbers' powers to the utmost. An obvious ques-
tion also arose as to the possibility of pushing camps
with provisions up to 20,000 feet by this route, for
we were agreed that our highest camp must at
least be somewhere about that altitude.

But the evening mists again drifted over the
magnificent range opposite and soon hid the upper
part of the mountain. They did not finally disap-

THE RUPAL NULLAH 49

pear till long after sunset. In the meantime we
contented ourselves with planning our expedition
for the morrow by the light of the camp fire. The
height of the camp by mercurial barometer was
12,150 feet.

Before daylight next day we started up the
middle of the Chiche glacier, accompanied by two
of our Kashmiri servants. Stones without number
covered the ice, and our lanterns only sufficed to
show how unpleasant our path on the glacier was
likely to prove. Soon the cold grey of the morning
revealed the Chiche peak straight in front of us, a
dim and colourless shadow. Quickly the dawn rose ;
we saw the bare precipitous ice slopes on its northern
face, scored everywhere by avalanche grooves, and
the loneliness of the scene impressed itself upon us.
We were entering on a new land, a country without
visible trace of man ; probably we were the first who
had ever ventured into its recesses. No breeze
stirred, and the eastern sun slanting across the
peaks threw jagged shadows over the snows ; soon
rising higher in the heavens, it topped the ridges
and bathed us in its warm glow.

At once the glacier wakened into life, and as the
stones on the surface were loosened from the frozen
grip of night, those which were insecurely perched
would ever and again fall down the slippery ice ;

THE RUl'AL NULLAH

then would we hear a grating noise followed by a
deep thud or booming splash. These luckless stones
had ' left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,'
ami dccj) in the cavernous hollows of each crevasse
or below the still green water of the glacier pools
they rested, till such time as the crushing heel of
the relentless ice should grind them slowly to
powder.

Grand and solemn in the perfect summer's morn-
ing was my introduction to the snow world of the
mighty Himalaya. The great hills were around me
once more. The peaks, ridges, ice-clad gullies, and
stupendous precipices encircling me, sent the blood
tingling through my veins ; I was free to climb
where I listed, and the whole of a long July day
was before me. To those whose paths lie in more
civilised and inhabited regions, this enthusiasm
about wild and desolate mountains may seem un-
warranted, may, perhaps, even savour of an eleva-
tion of fancy, a vain belief of private revelation
founded neither on reason nor common sense. They
probably will agree with Dr. Johnson, who writes
of the Western Highlands of Scotland : ' It will
readily occur that this uniformity of barrenness can
afford little amusement to the traveller ; that it is
easy to sit at home and conceive rocks, heaths, and
waterfalls, and that these journeys are useless

THE RUPAL NULLAH 51

labours which neither impregnate the imagination
nor inform the understanding.' The ' saner ' por-
tion of humanity, on the whole, are of one mind with
the great Doctor, at least if one can judge from
their utterances, and the votary of the mountains
is often looked upon with pity as one who, being
carried away by a kind of frenzy, is hardly respon-
sible for his actions.

A sport like mountaineering needs no apology.
Moreover, it has been so often and so ably defended
by writers with ample knowledge of their subject,
that nothing remains for me to say to this ' saner
portion,' unless perhaps I might be allowed to quote
the following oracular remark : ' " But it isn't so, no-
how," said Tweedledum. " Contrariwise," continued
Tweedledee, "If it was so it might be ; and if it
were so it would be ; but as it isn't, it ain't. That 's
logic." '

There are, however, those who accuse the moun-
taineer of worse things than a foolish and misguided
enthusiasm about the waste places of the earth.
I have often been told that this ardent desire for
wild and rugged scenery is an unhealthy mental
appetite, the result of the restless and jaded palate
of the age, which must be indulged by new sensa-
tions, no matter at what cost. Why cannot the
mountaineer rest content with the fertile valleys,

52 THE RUPAL NULLAH

the grass-clad ranges, and the noble forests with
the streams flashing in the sunlight ? Why cannot
lie be satisfied with these simpler and more homely
pleasures ? To what end is this eagerness for scenes
where desolation and naked Nature reign supreme,
where avalanches thunder down the mountain-sides,
where man has never lived, nay, never could live ?

To a few the knowledge of the hills is given.
They can wander free in the great snow world
relying on their mountain craft ; and should their
imagination not be impregnated nor their under-
standing informed, then are their journeys indeed
useless. For Nature spreads with lavish hand
before them some of the grandest sights upon which
human eye can gaze. Delicate, white, ethereal peaks
like crystallised clouds send point after point into
the deep azure blue sky. Driven snow, marvellous-
ly moulded in curving lines by the wind, wreathes
the long ridges ; and in the deep crevasses the light
plays flashing backwards and forwards from the
shining beryl blue sides : sights such as these delight
the soul of the mountaineer and tempt him always
onward.

The ever-varying clouds, forming, dissolving,
and again collecting on the mountains, show, here a
delicate spire of rock, undiscernible until the white
curling vapour shuts out the black background,

THE RUPAL NULLAH 53

there a lesser snow-peak tipped by the sunlight
floating slowly across it and rimmed by the white
border of the morning mists.

But it is needless for the lover of the mountains
to describe these sights ; the mere stringing together
of word-pictures carries little conviction. The sailor
who spends his life on the ocean might just as well
attempt to awaken enthusiasm for a seafaring life
in the minds of inland country-folk, by describing
the magnificence of a storm at sea, when the racing-
waves drive by the ship and the wind shrieks in
the rigging, or by telling them of voyages through
summer seas when the fresh breezes and the long
rolling billows speed the ship on its homeward way
through the ever-changing waters.

The subject, however, must not be taken too
seriously. No doubt the average individual has
most excellent reasons for abstaining from climbing-
hills, whilst the mountaineer is, as a rule, more
competent to ascend peaks than to explain their
attractions ; and to quote from a fragment of a lost
ms., 1 probably by Aristotle : ' Now, concerning the
love of mountain climbing and the excess and
deficiency thereof, as well as the mean which is also
a virtue, let this suffice.'

But I have wandered far from the Chiche glacier.

1 Cp. page 304.

54 THE RUPAL NULLAH

Whether it was owing to our tremendous burst of
enthusiasm which reacted on our ambition, or to
a lack of muscle necessary for a hard day's work,
nevertheless it must be recorded that presently
our anxiety to climb the Chiche peak gradually
dwindled, and after several tentative suggestions
we both eagerly agreed that from a smaller summit
just as good a view of Nanga Parbat could be
obtained as from one 20,490 feet high.

We therefore turned our attention to a spur on
our right which ran in a northerly direction from
the Chiche peak. As the day wore on even this
proved too much for us, and after tediously flounder-
ing through soft snow, and cutting steps up a small
couloir of ice, a strange and fearsome process to
our Kashmiris, we sat down to lunch, at a height of
16,000 feet, and basely gave up any ideas of higher
altitudes. We were hopelessly out of condition.
Below us on our left lay a most enticing rock ridge,
where plenty of fun and excitement could be had,
and from its precipitous nature in several places,
it would evidently take us the rest of the after-
noon to get back to our camp.

Clouds persistently interfered with the view of
Nanga Parbat, but now and again its summit
Avould shine through the drifting vapours, showing
precipice above precipice. The eastern face of the

THE RUPAL NULLAH 55

Chiclie peak, which we saw edgeways, was superb.
Nowhere in the Alps is there anything with which
one can compare the savage black corrie which
nestled right in the heart of the mountain, showing
dark, precipitous walls of rock, with here and there
a shelf where isolated patches of snow rested. This
corrie forms one of the heads of the Chiche nullah,
which would be worth visiting for this solitary and
savage view alone. As we descended our rock-
ridge we had to put on the rope, and soon experi-
enced all the pleasures of the initiated. Our bold
and fearless Kashmir servants got more and more
alarmed ; and the peculiar positions they occasion-
ally thought it necessary to assume made us feel
how sweet is the joy of being able to accomplish
something that an inexperienced companion regards
as impossible. In many places it was only by very
great persuasion that they were induced to move.
Many were the things they told in Hindustani,
which we understood but imperfectly, though we
gathered in a general way that no self-respecting
Kashmiri would ever attempt to climb down such
places, and that even the ibex and markhor would
find it an impossibility, a true enough assertion,
seeing that many of the small rock faces to be
negotiated were practically perpendicular for fifteen
or twenty feet.

56 THE RUPAL NULLAH

We reached our tents late in the afternoon to
find that Hastings had come up from the lower
camp. A council of war was then held. Evidently
we were not in condition to storm lofty peaks ; and
in order to get ourselves into proper training, a
walk round to the other side of Nanga Parbat was
considered necessary. Hastings as arranged had
brought up plenty of provisions, thus enabling the
party to brave the snows and uninhabited wilds
in front of them. Our immediate movements
decided upon, we sat round the camp fire, dined,
smoked, talked, and finally, when the stars were
shining brightly above the precipice - encircled
summit of Nanga Parbat opposite, retired into our
sleeping-bags for the night.

CHAPTER IV

FIRST JOUENEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH AND
THE DIAMIRAI PASS

' Lo ! where the pass expands

Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks,

And seems, with its accumulated crags,

To overhang the world.'

Shelley.

Early the next morning, before the sun had risen,
we started for the Mazeno La, which should lead
us into the wild and unknown Chilas country. We
soon experienced the kind of walking that after-
wards we found to be more often than not the
rule. Loose stones of every size and description
lay piled between the edge of the glacier and the
side of the valley, and it was useless to attempt
to walk on the glacier itself, for not only was it
buried deep with debris, but was crevassed as well.
For some distance we followed the northern or left
bank, passing by the snout of a small ice-fall that
came down from the main range of Nanga Parbat,
and then turned to the right up and over an inter-
vening spur, which finally brought us to the level

58 JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

of the glacier that lay immediately under the
Mazeno La. Across this our path lay in the
burning sun of the morning. Before us, about
1500 feet higher up, was the pass ; first the glacier
was crossed, and then partly by rocks and partly
over soft snow the way led upwards. Within a
few hundred feet of the summit (18,000 feet) I
experienced a violent attack of mountain sickness,
and was hardly able to crawl to the top. This
was the only time any of the party suffered at
all, and later a slight headache or lassitude was
the only symptom that I ever felt, even when at
heights up to 20,000 feet.

The western face of the pass is much more pre-
cipitous than the one we had ascended, but by
making use of an easy rock arete we soon got
down (2000 feet) to the more level glacier below.
The Mazeno La on the western side somewhat
resembles the Zinal side of the Triftjoch, but is
not quite so difficult.

The more active of our coolies, together with
servants, were sent on with the instructions to
camp on the right-hand side of the glacier as soon
as they should come to any bushes out of which
a fire could be made, but we were not destined
that evening to camp in any comfort. Caught on
the glacier by the darkness we were forced to sleep

AND THE DIAMIRAI PASS 59

for the night on a small plot of grass on the edge
of the side moraine, 13,400 feet, and not till the next
morning did we rejoin our coolies about a mile and a
half lower down the valley. After we had obtained
sufficient to eat we started down beside the glacier,
which I have named the Lubar glacier on account
of the small shepherds' encampment of that name
just below the end of it. On our arrival at Lubar
we made our first acquaintance with the Chilas
folk, some of whom looked very wild and unkempt,
but throughout our expedition we found them to
be friendly enough, and never experienced any
difficulty with them. Some sour and particularly
dirty goats' milk out of huge gourds was their
offering to us, and a small sheep, price four rupees,
was purchased.

Our destination, however, was the Diamirai
nullah on the north-west of Nanga Parbat, so we
did not stay long, and winding away up the hill-
side, leaving the Lubar stream far below us on the
left, we first traversed a beautiful wood of birch -
trees, and later got out on to the bare hill- side.

Only two small ridges separate the Diamirai from
the Lubar nullah, but they are only small in com-
parison with their bigger neighbours ; consequently
we did not reach the Diamirai nullah that day,
but camped on the hill-side by a small stream at

60 JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

1 2,500 feet. A magnificent view to the west showed
all the country stretched out before us, a country
unt ravel led by any European, whilst skirting the
horizon were some splendid snow-peaks that lay
near the head of the Swat valley beyond Tangir
and Darel. Next day, July 22, before coming to the
Diamirai nullah a herd of markhor was seen on
the slope not far in front of us, and by midday we
camped on the south side of the huge Diamirai glacier
that fills up the centre of the nullah, having taken
about five hours from our last camp, and having
come over some very rough ground. As soon as
the baggage was unpacked it was discovered that
a pair of steig-eisen had been left at the camp of
the night before. One of the goat-herds from Lubar
had come with us, and he, being promised a rupee
should he bring them back, started at about two
o'clock, running up the hill-side like a goat, and by
half-past six o'clock was back again with them.
Of course, these men having been trained in the
hills are very agile, and able to cover long dis-
tances, but considering the height there was to
climb, and the nature of the ground traversed, his
was a fine performance.

The camp (12,450 feet) was placed amongst
some stunted pine-trees and huge boulders that
had rolled down the moraine, the glacier itself

AND THE DIAMIRAI PASS 61

being high (200 feet) above the floor of the valley
at the side.

The view to the westward was much the same
as we had seen the night before, only with this
difference : it was enclosed now between the two
sides of the Diamirai nullah, whilst the glacier
fell away down the valley in the foreground,
towards the Indus, 10,000 feet below. Beyond,
range after range receded to the horizon, the
furthest peaks probably being more than one
hundred miles distant. There the mountain thieves
of Darel, Tangir, and of the country west of Chilas
live unmolested.

But eastward, at the head of the valley, towered
Nanga Parbat, 14,000 feet above us, one mass
of ice and snow, with rock ribs protruding here
and there, and vast overhanging glaciers ready
at any moment to pour down thousands of tons of
ice on to the glaciers below. Lit up a brilliant
orange by the setting sun, and with the shadows
on the lower snows of a pale green, it certainly
looked most beautiful, but up its precipitous face
a way had to be found, and at first sight it did
not look very promising.

From our camp we could see the whole face, and
Mummery was not long before he pointed out a
route by which we hoped later to gain the upper

62 JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

Bnow -fields just underneath the summit, and thence
the topmost pinnacle which glistened in the sun-
light.

The provisions brought over from the Rupal
nullah were only meant to last for a few days,
so, after the exploration of the western side of
Nanga Parbat, it became necessary to arrange for
the return. The servants and coolies were sent
back by the route we had come, whilst we made
up our minds to cross the ridge on the south side
of the valley sufficiently high up to bring us down
either on to the Mazeno La, or, if we were
fortunate, into the head of the Rupal nullah.

I went for a walk about four miles up the
glacier, but was unable to find a break in the
great wall at the head of the Diamirai nullah.
On my return I nearly ran into the arms of a
huge red bear ; and I must confess that we both
were very much frightened.

That night, a little before midnight, we started
with lanterns, picking our way first through the
small rhododendron bushes by the side of the
glacier for about a mile, then turning to the right
obliquely up the hill-side with the intention of
reaching a rock rib which led up to a gap in the
great wall that bounded the Diamirai nullah on
the south side. For a long time we stumbled up

V^.

AND THE DIAMIRAI PASS 63

what seemed an interminable shoot of loose stones,
but by the time the early dawn gave sufficient
light to enable us to see where we were, a rock
arete came into view on our left. 1 Towards this
we made our way, finding the climbing was by no
means difficult. Occasionally the arete would
become too perpendicular for us to follow it, and
then we had to cut steps along the top of ice-
or snow-slopes that were underneath the rocks on
the top of the ridge and chance finding our way
back up some gully or subsidiary rib of rocks that
might branch out from the main arete.

We did not seem to waste much time, but long
after the sun had risen and the silent ranges of
blue mountains had flushed first with the rosy
tints of the rising sun and afterwards glistened
with the full blaze of the morning, the pass was
still far away above us. These Himalaya are con-
structed on a totally different scale from either
the Alps or any of the ordinary snow mountains.
Still, point after point had to be surmounted.
Once in the mist that settled down on us about
eleven o'clock, we at last thought the summit was
reached, and began to descend an arete that led
towards the south. Twenty minutes later, when it
cleared, great was our vexation to find the pass

1 See illustration facing page 90.

64 JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

still a long distance above us on our right, and
t lint we had unconsciously been descending towards
the Diamirai nullah. Upwards again we had to
climb, I in; illy finding that the ridge led to the
top of a peak on the west of the pass and about a
thousand feet higher. In order to save the extra
fatigue of climbing to the summit and again
descending to the pass, Mummery made a bold
effort, striking across the face of the mountain.
In some places rocks stuck out from the steep face,
in others ice slopes had to be crossed, and towards
the middle a great circle of soft snow, with steep
ice underneath, gave us an anxious time ; for should
the surface snow have avalanched away, it would
not have stopped for certainly several thousand
feet. By tying two ropes (eighty and sixty feet
long) together, w r e spread ourselves out as far
; i part as possible, and very carefully made our way
across. It was two in the afternoon before the
summit of the pass was reached ; its height was
18,050 feet. We have named it the Diamirai pass.
Mummery assured us that he had never been over
a more sporting pass, and we were delighted with
the varied climbing that we had experienced. But
our enthusiasm was soon checked ; below, on the
further side, we could see neither the wished-for
Kupal nullah nor the Mazeno La. Easy rocks

AND THE DIAMIRAI PASS 65

and snow led down to a small glacier, which,
flowing southwards, led into another and larger
glacier whose trend was to the west. Evidently
the larger glacier was the Lubar. The position
we were in gradually began to dawn on us. In
fourteen hours we had made, as the crow flies,
three miles ; of course we had climbed about six
thousand feet, but in front of us lay a descent of
three thousand feet, and on to the wrong side of
the range, therefore at least five miles away round
the corner on the left was the Mazeno La, 18,000
feet. We also knew that our camp, and probably
our first food, was nearly twenty miles on the
other side of the Mazeno, and to make matters
worse we had only a few scraps left, a slice of
meat, some sticks of chocolate, and about half a
dozen biscuits. There was no time to admire the
view, also not much view to admire, for the
customary midday mists completely hid Nanga
Parbat and all the higher peaks. As an heroic
effort Mummery suggested that it might save time
to climb up from the pass on the south side, over
a peak nearly 21,000 feet, in order to drop down
on to the Mazeno La ; but we soon decided that it
was imprudent so late in the day to attempt it,
especially as it would most certainly involve spend-
ing the night out at some very high altitude. We

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

therefore rapidly descended the easy slopes on the
south Bide of this pass, to which, as I have said, we

ve the name of Diamirai. After running down
the foot glacier, the Lubar glacier was reached at
about half-past five. Here we stopped and rested
for about an hour and a half, vainly attempting to
get away from a bitterly cold wind that was blowing
up from the west. But there was no shelter, so
the lesser of two evils was chosen, namely to go on.
Slowly we crawled to the foot of the Mazeno La,
and about twenty hours after we had started on
our expedition, without food, and with only the
light of our lanterns, w r e toiled up the slopes that
would bring us at last to the top of our second

-s, 18,000 feet above sea-level. I shall never
forget how tobacco helped me through that night,
as I smoked whilst waiting on the summit, in
the freezing air and the bright starlight, for
Mummery and Hastings ; it almost made me feel
that I was enjoying myself; and it stayed the
pangs of hunger and soothed away the utter
weariness that beset both mind and body.

During our wild nocturnal wanderings, first down
the Mazeno, and then down the Rupal glacier,
where in the dim candle-light and in a semi-
conscious condition we slipped, tumbled, and fell,
but always with one dominant idea — namely, we

AND THE DIAMIRAI PASS 67

must go on !— that pipe continued to help me. What
cared I though Hastings growled ? — he does not
smoke ! — or whether poor Mummery groaned aloud
as he stepped into icy pools of water. So we
stumbled frantically forwards, over the vast wilder-
ness of stones and ice ; and I remember, as we
groped our way onwards, I must have half fallen
asleep, for I could not get out of my mind that there
was a hut or a small hotel on the top of the Mazeno
La, and that for our sins we had been doomed to
wander for ever in this dismal and waste land
of cold and darkness, whilst rest and food were
foolishly left behind.

But daylight came at last, and, after the sun was
well up in the sky, we finally made our way off
that dreadful glacier. We also had vague hopes
that perhaps after all we might be able to get
something to eat before we reached our camp,
miles away near Tashing. For one of our Kashmiri
servants had been told to wait at the foot of the
glacier — a week if necessary — till we turned up.
We were quite uncertain whether he would follow
our instructions, but at seven o'clock Hastings and
I found him camped under a huge rock. At once
some provisions and a kettleful of hot tea were
sent back to Mummery, who was resting some miles
up the valley. At half-past ten I left Hastings

68 JOURNEY TO DI AM IRA I NULLAH

and Mummery asleep amongst the flowers in the
shade under the rock, and set off alone for the
lower camp, if possible to hurry up some ponies to
fetch them down the valley. Early in the after-
noon I met them with two of the Rupal coolies :
they had crossed the Nanga Parbat glacier, no
easy thing to do, but, the steep face of dried mud
and boulders about thirty feet high leading off the
glacier, they could not get up. Engineering opera-
tions at once became necessary ; with my ice-axe
I cut large footsteps diagonally upwards across this
steep face. But the first pony was afraid. After
some talking, one of the men led up a wise-
looking, grey pony to the bottom, and, talking to
it, showed it the staircase. It then climbed up,
feeling each step carefully with its forelegs before
venturing on to it, These unshod mountain-horses
are certainly extremely clever on such kind of
ground. Several years later, when travelling in
the Canadian Rocky Mountains with a whole pack
of Canadian ponies, a place not one-quarter as
difficult entirely stopped the whole outfit, although
for making their way through fallen timber and
across dangerous streams these Canadian ponies
are unequalled.

Between five and six that evening I arrived at
our Tashing camp and found Bruce there. He

AND THE DIAMIRAI PASS 69

had obtained a month's leave, bringing with him
two Gurkhas — Ragobir and Goman Singh. Over
our dinner we forgot the weary tramping of the
last forty hours, celebrating the occasion by
drinking all the bottles of Bass's pale ale — a
priceless treasure in these parts — that we had
brought from Kashmir. Then afterwards, when
we turned into our sleeping-bags before the roaring
camp-fire, and the twilight slowly passed into the
azure night, and ovei'head the glistening stars were
blazing in the clear sky, a worthy ceiling to this
mountain land, it was agreed unanimously that it
was worth coming many thousand miles to enjoy
climbing in the Himalaya, and that those who
lived at home ingloriously at their ease knew not
the joys that were to be found amidst the ice
and snows of the greatest of mountain ranges.
Never would they enjoy the keen air that sweeps
across the snow-clad heights, never would they
wander homeless and supperless over the vile
wastes which surround the Mazeno La for the best
part of two nights and two days ; and, last but not
least, never would such joys as the marvellous
contentment born of a good dinner, after incipient
starvation, nor the delicious rest that comes as
the reward after excessive fatigue — never would
joys such as these be theirs.

CHAPTER V

SECOND JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH AND
ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET

' And this, the naked countenance of earth,
On which I gaze, even these primaeval mountains,
Power dwells apart iu their tranquillity,
Remote, serene, and inaccessible.'

Shelley.

Next day Bruce and I with Ragobir and Goman
Singh went for an excursion up the Tashing glacier,
in order that the two Gurkhas might have some
experience in ice-work and step-cutting. It was
great fun, and although I was perfectly unable to
understand any of their conversation, Ragobir and
Goman Singh were laughing, chattering, and play-
ing the whole time like two children.

On July 27 the same party, with the addition
of Mummery, started for a ridge which runs south-
east towards Tashing from the peak marked 22,360
feet, which we named Chongra peak, as it is at the
head of the valley of that name above Astor. We
crossed the Tashing glacier, and camped at 15,000
feet by some rocks. Next day was spent in a

ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 71

ridge-wander. Our intention was to climb a rock
peak overlooking the Chongra nullah ; but lazi-
ness was in the air, the day was hot, and the ridge
endless. Finally a halt was called somewhat short
of the peak that we had intended to climb, and
for a long time we basked in the sun, smoked, ate
our lunch, and enjoyed the superb view of the
precipices of Nanga Parbat on the west and of
the Karakoram range far away to the northward.
Out of the masses of snow-clad giants in the remote
distance to the north-east, one rose obviously higher
than all its neighbours ; in shape it resembled the
view of K 2 as seen from Turmik. 1 Since then, how-
ever, Bruce has told me that the mountain that was
seen from Turmik was probably the Mustagh tower.
These two peaks would be about one hundred miles
away, and in that clear atmosphere should be per-
fectly visible from our position (about 17,000 feet),
for we were high enough to see over the range on
the east of the Astor valley. We also saw across
the Indus and up the Shigar valleys, and further

1 la Drew's Jummoo and Kashmir Territories, p. 370, also Alpine Club
Journal, vol. xvii. p. 38, there is a sketch showing a mountain supposed
to be K 2 . Drew also has drawn K 2 in No. 3 Isometric view of the moun-
tains on the north-east of the Indus river. When Drew made these
sketches the existence of the Mustagh tower, which rivals K 2 in height,
was unknown ; moreover both from Turmik, and also from near Gilgit
where the Isometric view No. 3 was taken, the Mustagh tower would be
almost exactly in front of K 2 .

72 JOURNEY TO DIAM1RAI NULLAH

still the eye ^aa directed straight up the Baltoro
with no high peaks or ranges to intercept its view.
Very much nearer and more to the north just on the
other side of the Astor nullah a really magnificent
double-headed peak, the Dichil, 1 sends up a series
of perfectly impossible precipices. Its height on
the map is 19,490 feet, but I am positive this
measurement must be wrong. Much later, whilst
returning from the Kakiot nullah to Dashkin, I
was at a point 16,000 feet on the ridge just
opposite across the Astor valley, and seen from
there it apparently towered at least 5000 feet
above me. In the Dichil nullah at its foot the
valley cannot be more than 10,000 feet, and the
view of it from this nullah must far surpass that
of Ushba in grandeur.

During the day a curious haze hung over some
of the precipices at the head of the Tashing glacier
just opposite to us, due to perpetual avalanches
of stones which were partly falling, partly sliding,
down the steep slopes.

We returned to camp by a different route. A
steep rock ridge led straight down from the peak
we were on to the Tashing glacier below. On this
ridge we had some delightful climbing, ultimately

1 There ia a drawing of this peak on page 119 of Sir W. M. Conway's
Climbinj in tht Himalaya.

AND ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 73

reaching the upper pasturages lying on the left
bank of the glacier. It was a long tramp from
there home, but just as it became dark we marched
into our camp beneath the grove of willows.

The 29th was spent preparing for our start for
the Diamirai nullah, for Mummery had quite given
up all idea of attempting to climb the thousands
of feet of almost perpendicular wall that ran the
whole way along the south face of Nanga Parbat.
The next day we started with a perfect caravan
of coolies. Our intention was to send Goman Singh
and our servants . together with all the coolies and
baggage, over the Mazeno La by the route we had
first taken, whilst we ourselves with Ragobir should
try to cross directly from the head of the Rupal
nullah to the head of the Diamirai nullah.

This time we hoped to have better luck than on
our return over the Diamirai pass. But it was
with some misgiving that I started, for I alone
in my walk a week before up the Diamirai glacier
had seen the head of that nullah, and although I
did not doubt that we might reach the head of
some pass from the southern side, I could not
remember any place where it would be possible
for us to descend on the northern side, and under
any conditions our pass would be at least 20,000
feet, probably more, for the route lay directly over

1\- JOURNEY TO DIAMIRA1 NULLAH

the spur which leads westward from the summit
of Manga Parbat to the Mazeno La. That night
we camped about four to rive miles short of the
Mazeno La at a height of 13,000 feet. In the dark
we started next morning up excessively steep and
broken moraine by the side of an ice-fall, thence
we turned on to the steep glacier, and after some
difficulty got on to the upper glacier, which came
down from the north-east. After following this
for some distance we turned to our left up a wide
couloir, and partly on rocks and partly on snow
slowly climbed upwards. By three in the after-
noon Bruce, who was not in such good condition
as we were, and was suffering from suppressed
mumps (although neither he nor we knew it at the
time), began to feel tired, but under the stimula-
tion produced by some citrate of caffeine lozenges
he went on again bravely. At last we came out on
to the ridge at the head of the couloir, and climbed
some few hundred feet up the arete, which seemed
to lead to the very summit of the peak marked
21,442 feet on the map. But the time was five
o'clock in the afternoon. The height by mercurial
barometer was 20,150 feet. We had climbed over
7000 feet ; but beyond feeling very tired, which
was natural, we were hardly affected by the rare-
fied air. Here we stopped for some short time

AND ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 75

and had our evening meal. Bruce and I came to
the conclusion that, as we must certainly spend the
night out somewhere, a less exalted position was
preferable. We selected a new route, which would
take us down to the foot of the Mazeno La, Ragobir
coming with us. Mummery and Hastings would
not hear of beating a retreat thus early, so they
arranged to go on, and should they find the ridge
become too difficult further up, they would return
and follow us down, but they hoped for a full moon
and the possibility of climbing on during the night.

Bruce and I did not make much progress, for our
ridge soon became both narrower and more precipi-
tous ; but finally, as the sun was setting, we found
a crack running through the arete into which a flat
stone had got jammed just large enough for three
people to sit on. Here we made up our minds to
stop for the night. Roughly we were 19,000 feet,
or 1000 feet higher than the Mazeno La, and about
two to three miles to the eastward of it. A stone
thrown out on either side of our small perch would
have fallen many hundreds of feet before hitting
anything, so we did not take off the rope, but
huddled together as best we could to keep warm.

I could write a very long description of the
wonderful orange sunset we saw beyond the Mazeno,
how the light faded out of the sky, and the stars

7(; JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

c;iine out one by one as the sunset disappeared ;
hew we tried in vain to get into positions such
that the freezing wind would not penetrate our
clothes, how Bruce and Ragobir groaned, and how
we suffered — but I will refrain. Let any one who
may be curious on the subject of a night out on a
lock ridge at 19,000 feet try it ; but he must place
himself in such a position that, twist and turn as
he may, he still encounters the cold, jagged rocks
with every part of his body, and though he shelter
himself ever so wisely, he must feel the wind
steadily blowing beneath his shirt.

Late in the night we heard noises on the ridge
above us. It was Mummery and Hastings return-
ing. But, although they were within speaking
distance of Bruce and myself, and I had lit a
lantern to show them where we were, they could
not reach us, and finally had to select the least
uncomfortable place they could. With leaden feet
the night paced tardily on, and brilliant stars and
moon that had at first shone from the zenith gradu-
ally sank towards the west, but how slowly ! —

' Yon lily-woven cradle of the hours
Hath floated half her shining voyage, nor yet
Is hy the current of the morn opposed.'

Would the morning never come, and with it the warm
sunshine? Daylight crept up the sky, however, at

AND ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 77

last, and as soon as they could, Mummery and Hast-
ings joined us. After we left them, they had climbed
some considerable distance further, but as the mists
did not lift at sundown and the other side of the
range was unknown, they perforce had to return,
having nearly reached the summit of the mountain
and a height of 21,000 feet. It was a long time
before we got down on to the Mazeno glacier, but
somewhere about ten o'clock we arrived on the flat
glacier. Here the party, overcome by the warmth
of the sunshine and a great drowsiness, went to
sleep on some of the flat slabs of stone that lay
scattered on the ice. Personally, nothing would
have given me more pleasure than to have followed
the example of the rest, but visions of another night
out on the Lubar glacier troubled me. Moreover,
we had nothing whatever to eat, the night before
having seen the last of our provisions. Ragobir
and I therefore with weary feet started to cross
the Mazeno La.

Very slowly we toiled and toiled upwards through
the already softened snow ; but long before we
reached the summit, more than once Ragobir had
lain down on the ground exhausted. I found out
later that he had eaten nothing whatever the day
before. Ultimately we got to the top and rested
awhile. Our mission was to get to Lubar, and from

78 JOURNEY TO DTAMIRAI NULLAH

there send back up the glacier milk and meat to the
remainder of the expedition. It was already mid-
day, and here was 1 with a Gurkha who could
hardly crawl, and the rest of the party perhaps
in a worse condition far behind. So after a short
. I started down from the pass on the west side,
soon leaving llagobir behind. Then I waited for
him. Repeating these tactics he was enticed on-
wards again, until crossing an ice-couloir rendered
dangerous through falling stones, I walked out on to
the level glacier at the bottom to await him. Very
slowly he crawled down, and when in the centre of
the couloir, although I screamed to him to hurry,
he was nearly hit by a great stone weighing half a
hundredweight that had come from two or three
thousand feet above. Although it only missed him
by a few feet, he never changed his pace ; and when
at last he reached me, seated on a stone, he dropped
full length on the ice, absolutely refusing to move,
and groaning. He had eaten nothing for the last
forty hours.

My position was becoming serious. I could not
leave the Gurkha, Lubar was miles away down the
glacier, and some of the rest of the party might be
in the same condition as llagobir. I could think
of nothing except to smoke my pipe and wait for
something to happen. Half an hour passed, then an

AND ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 79

Lour ; and then, far up on the summit of the Mazeno
La a black dot appeared, and shortly afterwards
two more. So I waited, and at last the whole party
was reunited. Bruce managed to revive Ragobir,
who had had over two hours' rest, and we all set
off as fast as we could for the shepherds' huts at
Lubar. As the sun was setting we arrived there,
very weary, but buoyed up with the expectation of
something to eat. I shall never forget the sight
that greeted my eyes when Mummery and I, the
last of the party, walked into the small enclosure of
stones where the goats and sheep were collected.

Bruce was seated on the small wall in his shirt-
sleeves, superintending the slaughter of one of the
sheep. And, horrible to relate, in less than half an
hour after we entered Lubar we were all ravenously
devouring pieces of sheep's liver only half cooked on
the ends of sticks.

The dirty, sour goats' milk, too, was delicious, and
as far as I can recollect, each of us drank consider-
ably over a gallon that evening, to wash down the
fragments of toasted sheep and chappatties that
we made from some flour that had providentially
remained behind our caravan with a sick coolie.
Very soon we got into a somewhat comatose con-
dition, and there was some sort of arrangement
made, that should any one wake in the night he

BO .JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

should look after the fire. But next morning when
I awoke the fire was out and I was covered with
hoarfrost. We had all fallen asleep almost in the
positions in which we sat in front of the fire.

I am afraid I must apologise for this second
description of the delights of feeding after a pro-
longed fast. But few people have any conception
of what it feels like to be really starving and
worked till one longs to drop down anywhere — even
on snow or ice. Hunger, exposure, and exhaustion
are hard taskmasters, and the relief brought by
rest, comfort, and plenty of food is a pleasure never
to be forgotten. It is certainly one of the keenest
enjoyments I have ever experienced.

Next morning we started for the Diamirai camp,
taking with us the coolie and the precious flour.
We preferred to strike out a new route, keeping
higher up the mountain-side and more to the right.
Before long we met some of our Kashmir servants
who had come back from the Diamirai to look for
us, and, as was their most excellent custom, brought
with them as many edibles as they could. These of
course were soon finished. We left them to return
bv the ordinary route to the camp, whilst we followed
up the Butesharon glacier in a south-easterly direc-
tion, reaching at its head a col about 17,000 feet.

From this pass, on that perfectly clear afternoon,

AND ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 81

an unsurpassed panorama was spread out before us.
The Indus valley lay 14,000 feet beneath us. Be-
yond stretched that almost unknown land below
Chilas. A hundred miles away were the snow peaks
in the Swat country, marked on the map as 18,563
feet and 19,395 feet high, standing out distinct
against the sky, whilst much further still, a little
more to the right, rose a vast snow peak nearly flat
topped, or at least a ridge of peaks, several thousand
feet higher than any others. It was probably Tirach
Mir above Chitral, 25,426 feet and 24,343 feet high.

From the summit of the Butesharon pass we
descended almost straight to the camp, which had
been pitched in the old spot, where we had been
ten days before.

During the next two days, August 3 and 4,
we stopped in camp, and on the 5th Bruce left us,
going back to Abbottabad via the Mazeno La, the
Kamri, and Kashmir. As we heard afterwards, it
was anything but a pleasant journey, for, probably
owing to the exposure during that night on Nanga
Parbat, his complaint had been aggravated, and the
glands of his neck and face had become so swollen,
that when he was met by a friend on the Kamri
he was unrecognisable, and for many months after-
wards was unable to wear a collar.

The day that Bruce left, Mummery and I with

S2 JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

the Gurkhas started to explore the upper end of
the Diamirai glacier. We camped at the head of
the valley on the last grass on the northern side.
Mummery and Ragobir started at midnight for
the western face of Nanga Parbat. During the
day they managed to reach the top of the second
rib of rocks that lie directly under the summit, a
height of about 17,000 to 18,000 feet. In the mean-
time I went to look at the Diama glacier between
the Ganalo peak, 21,650 feet, and Nanga Parbat,
taking with me Goman Singh and our Kashmir
shikari. We climbed up the ridge that comes down
from the Ganalo peak to about 17,000 feet, but un-
fortunately the day was cloudy, so I was unable
satisfactorily to see the whole of the Diama valley,
and ascertain what chances we should have if we
were to attack Nanga Parbat from that side. How-
ever, on returning in the afternoon, I met Mummery
on the glacier. He was delighted with his explora-
tion, for there was, he said, magnificent climbing,
and he had found a place on the top of the second
rib of rock where a tent might be pitched.

From July 13, the day we left the Kishnganga
valley, it had been gloriously fine ; but next day,
August 7, the weather broke with heavy rain.
Of course all our energies now were concentrated
on the ascent of Nanga Parbat. Mummery decided

AND ASCENT TO 21,000 FEET 83

that we should push provisions and supplies up the
route that he and Ragobir had prospected ; and he
was confident that once beyond the rock ribs and
on the upper snow-fields with some provisions and
a silk tent, it would be very hard luck indeed should
we be driven back before we reached the summit.

During August 8 and 9, Mummery, Ragobir,
Lor Khan (a Chilas shikari, who had come up
from Gashut in the Bunar valley, and insisted
on stopping with us), and I spent the time in
carrying a waterproof bag of provisions and some
odds and ends up the second rib of rock to a height
of 17,150 feet. Here we left it in a safe place on
the rocks. We also had considerable quantities of
fuel taken up by coolies, to a camp 15,000 feet, at
the bottom of the rocks under Nanga Parbat.

Mummery was not wrong when he said it was
magnificent climbing. The only climbing in the
Alps I can compare it to is that on the Chamounix
Aiguilles. In many places it was similar to that
on the west side of the Aiguille du Plan from the
Pelerin glacier.

Between the first and second ribs of rock the
glacier was broken up into the wildest confusion,
and it was only by passing a somewhat nasty couloir,
down which occasional ice avalanches came, that the
rocks of the second rib could be reached ; thence to

84 JOURNEY TO DIAM1RAT NULLAH

the top of the rib was difficult rock climbing over
it slabs and towers of rock set at a very steep
le. I was extremely surprised that Lor Khan
would go, but he did not seem in the least fright-
ened, and with a little help from the rope climbed
splendidly.

As we returned that night to our camp the rains
descended, and we arrived wet through ; the weather
was getting worse, and no serious attempt could be
made for the present on Nanga Parbat.

CHAPTER VI

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK

' Nothing that is mountainous is alien to us ; we are addicted
t all high places from Gaurisankar to Primrose Hill, wherever
man has not forked out Nature. No doubt we find a particular
fascination in the greatest and boldest inequalities of the earth's
surface and the strange scenery of the ice and snow world ; but
we are attracted by any inequality, so long as it has not a
railroad station or a restaurant on the top of it.'

Douglas Fp.eshfield.

About this time we were beginning to run short
of provisions, though a month earlier we had
ordered all sorts of luxuries — jams, Kashmir wine,
and so forth — from Srinagar, and had heard that
they had been despatched to Bandipur, to be for-
warded thence by the Government Commissariat
Department. All inquiries were, however, fruit-
less, but Bruce had promised that should he, on
his way down country to Abbottabad, discover
their whereabouts he would hurry them on.
Eventually he found them reposing at Bandipur,
so he at once packed them on ponies and sent
them to our camp in the Rupal nullah, knowing

86 ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK

how the Commissariat Department had to strain
every nerve to get the requisite grain supplies for
the troops over the passes to Gilgit before the bad
weather set in and blocked the Burzil, and that
private baggage and supplies might wait indefin-
itely till such time as it pleased the Department
to find ponies to convey them to their destination.
Personally we did not wish to leave the Diamirai
nullah, but at the same time it was absolutely
necessary that somehow 7 we should replenish our
vanishing stock of food. Already two of our
Kashmir servants had been sent down into the
Bunar district to bring up whatever they w r ere able
to collect, but we could not depend on the Chilas
nullahs to yield us all we might want. This
((iiestion of provisioning our camp caused perpetual
worry. Unless one has trustworthy servants,
every ten days or so one of the party has to
start off to the nearest village for supplies. This
may take a week or more, and as the period during
which the big mountains are in a condition to
climb is at the best but very limited, much valu-
able time will be wasted.

Bruce told me that whilst he was with Sir
W. M. Conway, in the Karakorams, all the catering
was left to Rahim Ali, his servant. If every fort-
night during their stay at the head of the Baltoro

ASCENT OF THE DIAM1RAI PEAK 87

glacier they had been forced, as we were, person-
ally to forage and seek for dilatory servants, the
climbing on Pioneer peak would have progressed
but slowly. A piece of advice which cannot be
too strongly urged upon those who go to the
Himalaya is to get good servants at any cost, not
to grudge the time spent, for it will be regained
afterwards a hundredfold. The cook or khan-
sammah ought to be the chief servant in the camp.
He ought to be responsible for everything : it is
his business to provide food, and a good cook who
feeds one well, and takes the responsibility of the
endless small details of management and supply
off one's shoulders is worth five times the wages
which are usually given.

Accordingly, after some consultation, Hastings
generously agreed to sacrifice himself and trudge
back to our camp in the Rupal nullah and thence
to Astor, not only with the hope of bringing back
with him all the luxuries we had weeks before
ordered from Srinagar, but also with the intention
of procuring sheep, flour, rice, and tea from Astor.
At the same time he hoped to shorten to a great
extent the journey to the Mazeno by making a
new and direct pass over into the Lubar nullah
immediately south of our camp. In the mean-
time Mummery and 1 were to stay behind in the

ss A.SOENT OF THE DIAMIRAI TEAK

Diamirai nullah and push provisions up the face
of Nanga Parbat as fast as we could.

.lust south of our camp rose a snow peak, about
I'.'.OOO feet, which we have called the Diamirai
peak. On July '24, in crossing the pass from
the Diamirai over to the Lubar glacier, we had
left it on our right. It is not on the main ridge
of Nanga Parbat, but on a side spur running to
the westward. Camped as we were at its very
foot, and looking on it as but a single day's climb,
wo determined to try to ascend it, whilst we
waited for the snow to clear off the rocks on
Nanga Parbat. By this time we had learned that
the ascent of any peak 20,000 feet high was a
laborious undertaking. At first we had talked
about the 'twenty thousanders ' somewhat con-
temptuously, and not without reason, for our hopes
were fixed on Nanga Parbat, 26,629 feet ; surely
if a mountain of that height were possible, those
whose summits were 7000 feet lower ought to be
simplicity itself. In fact, we imagined that, as
far as difficulty was concerned, they should stand
somewhat in the same proportion to each other
as an ascent of Mont Blanc to a climb up the
Brevent from Chamounix during the springtime
before all the snow has meltedj

Unfortunately they were riot quite so easy as

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 89

we should have liked ; not only did they involve
an ascent from the camp of 7000 to 8000 feet, but
also a considerable amount of the climbing under
a pressure of about half an atmosphere. Then
the interminable ice slopes, which in the Nanga
Parbat district are very much more common than
in the Alps, meant many hours of step-cutting,
and the softened state of the snow directly after
the sun had shone on it added considerably to our
labour. Besides these drawbacks, which render
the ascent of a mountain 20,000 feet high not
altogether easy, the utter confusion and wearisome
monotony of the stony and rugged hill-sides between
the valley and the snow-line must not be forgotten.
On August the 11th, we all started early
in the morning by lantern light, taking with us
Ragobir and Lor Khan (as well as Goman Singh
and two coolies who were to accompany Hastings
as far as Astor). We first climbed up a small
moraine coming steeply down the side of the main
valley almost to our camp from the glacier on the
north-west side of the Diamirai peak, and in about
an hour and a half came to the glacier itself.
Here Hastings parted company with us, and, cross-
ing a pass (which he has named Goman Singh
pass), to the westward of the Diamirai peak, got
safely over down to the Lubar glacier, whence

90 ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK

liv wav of the Mazeno pass he came to our camp
in the Rupal nullah. Mummery and I, accom-
panied by Ragobir and Lor Khan, turning slightly
to the left, made for a gully leading higher up
to a snow ridge which ran upwards nearly to the
summit of the peak. At the foot of the gully
we were confronted by a small bergschrund.
This we easily turned, and began scrambling up
the rocks on our left hand.

Gradually the grey dawn melted into a Hima-
layan sunrise. Far away over the lower ridges we
could see —

' The ever-silent spaces of the east
Far folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn. 5

Above there was very little colour, pale greens
verging into oranges and yellows, whilst below,
in the shadows of the valleys, cold, dark steel
blues, clear and deep, were the predominating
shades. For a long while we watched the orange
sunlight, catching first one part of Nanga Parbat
and then another, as slowly the patches widened
and spread creeping always down the mountain-
side. Away to the north, on the opposite side
of the Diamirai nullah, two minor rock peaks on
the ridge were tipped with the rays of the morning
son. At the height we had already gained there
was visible over the intervening ridge all the

1 8

s 8 .

UP AM {m.

VIEW OF THE DIAMIRAI PE

The dotted lines show our various routes.

■3 *•"
M 3

.5 *
2 o

Butesharon
Pass.

*OM THE RED PASS.

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 91

country above Gor on the further side of the Indus,
while to the south of Gilgit stretched away mile
after mile of mountain ranges. But by far the
most striking sight was the enormous snow range
beyond Gilgit and Yasin, the extreme western end
of the Mustagh or Karakoram range. Rakipushi we
could not see ; it was just cut off by the western
spur of the Ganalo peak, but from a point just
west of the Kilik pass almost to the mountains
above Chitral, snow summit after snow summit
rose up into the heavens clear cut and distinct
in the wonderfully translucent air.

With this marvellous view nothing interfered,
as the average height of the peaks on this mighty
barrier which divides English from Russian terri-
tory cannot be much less than 23,000 feet, and
that of the hills which lay between us and these
peaks was not more than 16,000 feet. High above
the great snow range on the horizon, a long-drawn
cloud floated like a grey bar of silver, but it did
not prevent the rays of the rising sun from covering
with their golden light the whole of the distant
and lonely snow world, as yet untrodden by the
foot of man. As usual, a perfect stillness and
calm in the morning air seemed to herald a fine
day, but already we had learned to mistrust these
signs : —

A.SCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI l'FJAK

1 Full many a glorious morning have I secne,
Flatter the mountaino tops with sover;tino eie,

Anon permit tho basest cloudes to rid )
With ongly rack on his celestiall face.'

days were there during our stay in the
Nanga Parbat region that were clear after 10 a.m.,
' this morning was no exception.
The sun had risen above Nanga Parbat, and we
knew well how soon the snow would soften under
its powerful rays — half an hour usually sufficing
under these conditions to thaw r through the frozen
outer crust. New snow, too, had fallen in con-
siderable quantities, so we did not want to waste
any of the valuable early hours on the lower slopes.
Fortunately about this time the morning mists began
to gather as usual, and not only prevented the snow
from melting, but protected us from the fearful
glare which would have been our fate on a perfectly
cloudless day. Very narrow and steep w r as the
snow ridge which stretched up the mountain -side
above us, but we knew, although we could not see
from where we were, that it led almost to the
summit. The average angle of the arete was a
little over 40 degrees. At first Mummery was
easily able to nick out steps with the axe, but
soon the crust began to give way here and there,
leaving us to struggle often knee-deep. On our

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 93

right the angle was not very steep, but on the left
of the ridge was a most forbidding ice slope. Every
now and then we would make rapid progress, finding
a thinner coating of snow upon the ice, with but
one or two small crevasses to be crossed. Away
on our left was an excellent rock ridge, but we
could not reach it without cutting across the steep
ice-slope. However, our are"te, some distance
further up, seemed to join the rock ridge, so we
pushed on quickly, in the hope that above we
should be rewarded by finding easy rocks to climb.
Before we reached this point a difficult and steep
piece on the ar§te had to be surmounted. If we
could have traversed off to the right it would have
been easier, but the snow was in a most unstable
condition ; small zigzags to the right and then
back again on to the ridge were resorted to, and
ultimately we succeeded in getting up this some-
what nasty place. Eapid progress was then made,
but we found, much to our disappointment, that
the rock ridge ended where it joined the ar6te,
and our hopes of an easy rock climb vanished.

Finally we arrived just under the first summit
of our mountain. Here the same difficulty we had
experienced down below again presented itself, but
in a worse form. The ar&te was much steeper,
sloping probably at an angle of about 55 to 60

'M ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAl PEAK

greea Mummery tried the same tactics as
before, but soon had to confess that he dared not
trust the snow any further, for it was thoroughly
sodden upon the surface of the ice, and we might
bring the whole face otf at any moment. On the
arete itself the snow, where it had drifted and
been frozen, lay curiously deep, so that even at
the thinnest point it did not allow of steps being
cut in the ice below. Our only chance, therefore,
was to try the ice slope on the left of the
arete. Mummery led, cutting the steps diagonally
across the slope, where a thin coating of snow
lay some two or three inches deep over the hard
ice underneath. As he moved slowly upwards,
I came next on the rope, and, to keep my hands
employed, passed the time in cutting the steps
deeper into the ice.

The position was a sensational one — we were
crossing the steepest ice slope of any great size I
had ever been on ; below us it shot straight down
some 2000 feet without a break, till the angle
became less in a small snow basin. The next
objects that met the eye were the stone slopes
far below in the valley, and unconsciously I
began to picture to myself the duration and
th«' result of an involuntary glissade on such a
mountain-side.

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 95

Lor Khan, who came behind me on the rope,
seemed to be enjoying himself immensely ; of
course he had never been in such a position before,
but these Chilas tribesmen are famous fellows.
What Swiss peasant, whilst making his first trial
of the big snow peaks and the ice, would have
dared to follow in such a place, and that, too, with
only skins soaked through by the melting snow
wrapped round his feet ? Lor Khan never hesi-
tated for a moment ; when I turned and pointed
downwards he only grinned, and looked as if he
were in the habit of walking on ice slopes every
day of his life. We were soon all in a line across
this ice face, and whilst I was cutting one of
Mummery's steps deeper to make it safer for our
Chilas shikari, I noticed that the rope was hang-
ing down in a great loop between Lor Khan and
myself. At once I cried out to him not to move
again till it was absolutely tight between us, and
always to keep it so for the future. In the East
we found that people were accustomed to obey
instantly without asking questions. What the
sahib said was law, at least so long as the sahib
was there himself to enforce obedience. Conse-
quently as I moved onward the rope soon became
taut, and fortunately remained in that condition.
Shortly after this Mummery turned upwards and

ASCKNY OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK

Blightly bo bia right, cutting nearly straight up
the face, owing to some bad snow which barred
our way. -fust as I began the ascent of this
heard a startled exclamation below.
instinctively I struck the pick of my axe d<
into the ice, and at the same moment the whole
of the weiffht of the unfortunate Lor Khan came
on Ragobir and on me with the full force of a drop
of some five to six feet. He had slipped out of one
of the steps, and hung with his face to the glistening
ice, whilst under him the thin coating of snow peeled
oft 1 the face of the slope in great and ever- widening
misses, gathering in volume as it plunged head-
long down the mountain-side, finally to disappear
over the cliffs thousands of feet below. For the
time being I was fascinated by the descending
avalanche, my whole mind being occupied with
hut this one thought, that if Lor Khan began to
struggle and jerk at the rope I should without a
doubt be pulled out of my steps. My fears proved
groundless. Although Lor Khan had lost his foot-
ing he never lost either his head or his axe, and
was just able to reach with his hand one of the
steps out of which he had fallen. After Mummery
had made himself quite firm above me I found
myself, with the help of Ragobir, who was last on
the rope, just able to haul up our Chilas shikari

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 97

to a step which he had manfully cut for himself.
It was, however, a very unpleasant experience ; if
the fall had been ten feet instead of six, I should
never have been able to have borne the strain, and
Lor Khan would have fallen considerably more than
that if he had not been opportunely warned that
he must keep the rope tight between himself
and me.

Half an hour later we got off our ice slope and
stepped almost on to the first summit. All our
difficulties were over. After ploughing through
some soft snow, at about half-past eleven o'clock we
were seated on the true top of our peak, the height
of which by the barometer turned out to be 19,000
feet.

We had climbed between 6000 and 7000 feet, and
Mummery had led the whole way. The last 3000
feet had been very severe, for at first most of the
steps had to be laboriously broken, and later we
had to win our way by the use of the axe. But
Mummery was perfectly fresh and could have gone
on for hours, the diminished pressure (fifteen inches
of mercury) having apparently no effect on him ;
neither was Ragobir any the worse for his climb ;
Lor Khan and I had slight headaches, but other-
wise were quite fit for more. As we sat on the
top enveloped in mist, Mummery and I debated

its A.SCENT OF THE DIAMIRA1 PEAK

afresh the old question, How should we feel if we
v\rv ascended to 26,000 feet? Mummery reasoned
thai it would chiefly depend on our state of training
at the time. Had I not been dreadfully ill at
18,000 feet crossing the Mazeno La, whilst here
we wore all right at 19,000 feet? Had we not
•nded our last 3000 feet with hardly a rest
and at exactly the same pace as if we had been
climbing in the Alps ? As it always takes two
to argue, I perforce had to try my best as the
opposition. At once I discovered that my head-
ache was by no means a negligible quantity, and was
therefore an excellent test for abnormal altitudes.
Probably also mountain-sickness was a disease
which linked in the higher mountains and was
ready at any moment to rush on and seize its prey.
Luckily for us the particular bacillus was not just
then in the surrounding atmosphere, consequently
we had not been inoculated, yet perhaps should
we on some future occasion go to 21,000 to 22,000
feet, we might be suddenly overwhelmed. Then
I quoted an article I had read somewhere about
paralysis and derangement of nerve-centres in the
spinal column being the fate of all who insist on
energetic action when the barometer stands at
thirteen inches. It was no good, Mummery only
laughed at me ; and at this moment the mist clear-

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 99

ing for a short space to the southward, we were
soon far more interested with the view of the
Thosho and Rupal peaks. The summit we were
on fell away on the south directly under our feet
in a series of rock precipices. We started on our
homeward journey at about one o'clock without
catching a single glimpse of Nanga Parbat. The
descent of the steep ice slopes of our upward route
was far too dangerous to attempt, so we decided
on a rock ridge to the westward which we hoped
would lead us down on the pass that Hastings had
crossed earlier in the day.

Ragobir was sent to the front. He led us
down the most precipitous places with tremendous
rapidity and immense enjoyment. It was all 'good'
according to him, and his cheery face down below
made me feel that there could be no difficulty, till
I found myself hanging down a slab of rock with
but the barest of handholds, or came to a bulging-
mass of ice overhanging a steep gully, which
insisted on protruding into the middle of my
stomach, with direful result to my state of
equilibrium.

At one place where the ridge was a narrow
knife edge, with precipices on both sides, we had
a splendid piece of climbing. A sharp descent of
about a hundred feet occurred on the arete which

loo ASCENT OF THE DIAMIllAI PEAK

Beemed at first Bight impossible. llagobir tried
first on the right hand, but, owing to the smoothness
of the rock slabs and the absence of all handholds,
w.is unable to get down further than twenty feet
or so. Whilst I was dangling the Gurkha on the
end of the rope, Mummery discovered what he con-
sidered to be a possible solution of the difficulty.
Etagobir was to climb about twenty-five feet down
a small open chimney on the perpendicular south
face of the ridge ; he then would be on the top
of a narrow flake of rock which was laid against
the mountain-side in the same manner as those
on the traverse of the Aiguille de Grepon. We
could easily hold him from above whilst he edged
sideways along this narrow way. After a short
time he called out that it was all right, and I let
down Lor Khan next. When I myself got on
to the traverse I was very much impressed, not
that it was very difficult, thanks to the splendid
handholds, but the face was so perpendicular that
without them one could hardly have stood on the
narrow top of the slab without falling outwards. A
loose stone when thrown out about twenty feet
pitched on some snow at least five hundred feet
below.

I found Ragobir and Lor Khan on a small niche
on the ridge which divided the arete into two and

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 101

at the top of an incipient ice gully. With- -consider
able difficulty I managed to squeeze on to the small
platform of rock and direct operations. Ragobir
cut his way down to the next place where he could
rest ; and, after carefully hitching the rope as safely
as I could, Mummery was called on to follow. It
was just the kind of place he enjoyed, but it
needed some one with iron nerves to descend the
somewhat difficult chimney and then edge along
the traverse without a steadying-rope from above.
After the descent of the ice gully the climbing
proved much easier. Rapid progress was made in
spite of an uncertainty as to where we were going,
for everything was hidden by the afternoon mists.
Our route kept slowly bending away to the south-
west, and as Hastings's pass lay directly to the
west, we hoped that another bend to the north-
west would put us straight again.

We could not leave the ridge and traverse to
our right, so perforce had to keep on descending,
and when at last the mists did rise for a short
time, we found our fears amply confirmed. The
pass lay about a thousand feet above on our right,
and, what was still more exasperating, the shortest
route to it necessitated a still further descent of
at least five hundred feet, followed by a traverse
underneath the overhanging end of a glacier. An

102 ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK

EtttM fifteen hundred feet of climbing up the
\':i sail. . interminable, and heart-breaking debris,
which is so common on the south faces of the
Himalaya, and that, too, late in the afternoon, was
trying even to the best of tempers. I used quite
unpublishable language, and even the imperturb-
able Mummery was moved to express his feelings
in much more forcible language than was customary.
There are occasions when language fails, and even
the pen of Iludyard Kipling is unequal to depict
the situation literally, though he does his best.
There rises before me his description of that scene
in the railway works at Jamalpur, where an appren-
tice is addressing, ' half in expostulation and half
in despair, a very much disorganised engine which
is sadly in need of repair.' Kipling gives us the
gist of his language, but owns that after all
the youth put it ' more crisply — very much more
crisply.'

We reached the top at last, but even then we
had to traverse to the westward half a mile before
beginning the descent. Once started we went at
racing speed, sometimes getting a long glissade
down soft snow, sometimes a run down small stone
debris ; it was rather hard on poor Lor Khan, who
was not shod for this kind of work, and was soon
left far behind.

ASCENT OF THE DIAMIRAI PEAK 103

But it was getting late, and we wished to reach
the camp before dark. Just as the sun was setting
over the far-away hills in the wild, unknown Tangir,
and shining through a thin veil of an evening
shower, the tents under the Diamirai moraine
were sighted ; and during the after-dinner smoke
opposite a roaring fire of pine logs we went over
our day's adventures, and both agreed that we had
enjoyed ourselves hugely : and so to bed.

CHAPTER VII
ATTEMPT TO ASCEND NANGA PAEBAT

1 An ancient peak, in that most lonely land,
Snow-draped and desolate, where the white-fleec'd clouds
Like lagging sheep are wandering all astray,

Till the sin ill whistling wind, their shepherd rude,
Drives them before him at the early dawn
To feed upon the barren mountain tops.
Far from the stately pines, whose branches woo
The vagrant breeze with murmuring melody,
Far from the yellow cornlands, far from streams
And dewy lawns soft cradled deep below,
Naked it stands. The cold wind's goblin prate,
Of weird lost legends born in days of old,
Echoes all night amongst its pinnacles;
Whilst higher more remote a storm-swept dome
Mocks the pale moon : there nothing living reigns
Save one old spirit of a forgotten God.'

Fragment.

A week before this, on the same day that Bruce
had left us, our cook and our head shikari, to-
gether with some coolies, had been sent to fetch
up from the Bunar valley any provisions they
could find. We knew that if they had travelled
with ordinary speed, five days was ample for the
whole journey, and they were therefore two days
overdue. Moreover, in our camp provisions for

104

C 7t ■ I//////// ■

NANGA PARBAT 105

only one day remained. Our position was annoy-
ing. Of course, as the weather had turned fine
again we wished to carry more necessaries up to
the camp at the head of the Diamirai glacier, just
under Nanga Parbat ; but even where we were at
the base camp, it was two days' hard travelling
from the nearest village and food. This position
of affairs produced a long discussion, and finally we
agreed that we ourselves must go down to Bunar
after the dilatory servants. It was most provoking,
but tr^ere was no help for it. Leaving the camp
in charge of the goat-herd from the Lubar nullah,
and our water-carrier or bhisti, Mummery and I
started off with Lor Khan and some servants for
Bunar. The further we went the worse the path
became, but by skirting upwards along the hill-
side, on the left of the valley, we soon left the
Diamirai glacier far below us. About this point
we met our head shikari, who had come on in
front of the remainder of the party from Bunar —
at least he said so, but we could get very little
accurate information out of him. In fact, as we
afterwards discovered, he had stopped at the first
village he had come to, and remained there doing
nothing, or at least nothing connected with getting
us provisions, which work he left to the cook.
After enjoying himself for three days in this

106 ATTEMPT TO ASCEND

manner, thinking it was time to return, and col-
lecting what he could, namely some grapes and
apples, he came back to us with them as a peace-
offering. Whilst he had been away, however,
unfortunately for him, our other servants had
explained several curious things which we at the
time did not understand. These explanations left
in our minds no doubt that this wretched Kashmir
shikari had not only been robbing us, but also all
the coolies as well. We in our ignorance thought
that if the coolies were paid with our own hands, the
money at least would be safe. In the East this is
by no means the case, for the moment we were out
of sight, this wily old ruffian would return to the
coolies, telling them that they had been overpaid,
and that the Sahibs commanded them instantly to
give back half of the money. Our coolies were
mostly Baltis from the Astor district. These poor
Baltis have been a downtrodden race for centuries,
harried by their more warlike and courageous
neighbours — the Chilasis and the robbers of
Gilgit and Hunza. So the shikari has no difficulty
in making them yield to his extortion.

Mummery for some time listened to his obvious
lying, but soon lost his temper. A coolie anxious
to go to his home in the Rupal nullah here served
our purpose. The shikari was told to return to

NANGA PARBAT 107

the Rupal nullah with him, and at the same time
we gave him a letter to Hastings. In that letter,
which he could not read, we explained the situation,
and instructed Hastings to pay the shikari off and
send him about his business.

The route we were following soon turned away
to the left, leaving the Diamirai nullah on the
right. It was afterwards that we found out the
reason for this. It seems to be impossible to
descend or ascend this portion of the Diamirai
nullah direct. The valley narrows in below the
bottom of the glacier, and finally becomes a deep
gorge with cliffs thousands of feet high on either
side. Our change in direction soon showed us that
we should have to cross the tributary Lubar
nullah. This meant that we had to climb down a
very steep rocky face of about 3000 feet. At about
four in the afternoon we arrived at the bottom,
finding an impassable glacier torrent thundering
over great boulders and swollen by the melted
snows of the morning. Walls of rock barred our
way either up or down the stream, but Lor Khan
said we were at the ford. In vain we tried to
place pine trunks across — they were swept away
one by one. It was a fine sight to see Lor Khan,
stripped to the waist, struggling in the icy water
with the great pine stems, a magnificent specimen

10s ATTEMPT TO ASCEND

of fearlessness, muscle, and activity. Fortunately
we had insisted on roping him, for once he was
carried off his feet and had to be brought back to
land half drowned but laughing. It soon became
perfectly evident that we could not cross till early
next morning, when the frost on the glaciers above
would have frozen up the sources of this turbulent
stream. As we were wondering where we could
possibly find room to lie down for the night, high
above us on the opposite bank a stone came bound-
ing down a precipitous gully. Who had started it ?
Some goat or other wild animal ; or was it our cook
returning with provisions ? Shouting was useless,
for the roar of the torrent drowned every noise.
Five minutes passed, then ten, finally a quarter of
an hour, but we were not destined to be disap-
pointed ; at last, more than five hundred feet up
the gully opposite, we saw our cook with all the
coolies.

After they had descended, a rope was thrown
across to them, and we succeeded by its aid in
hauling a slippery pine trunk into position behind
two large stones. Over this we crossed and camped
on a narrow spit of level ground underneath the
perpendicular walls of rock : chickens, sugar, eggs,
three maunds of flour, and four sheep were amongst
the spoils brought up by our cook from Bunar.

NANGA PARBAT 109

That evening we ate our meal by the ruddy light
of a great camp fire, with the roar of the torrent
making it almost impossible to hear our voices, and
underneath some gnarled and stunted pines, whose
roots were firmly imbedded in the great fissures
that ran up the perpendicular rock face. As the
question of provisions had been settled for some
time, we returned much relieved in our minds to
the Diamirai nullah.

The next day, August 14th, it again rained hard
nearly all day. At 2 a.m. on the 15th we started
once more for the upper camp. We took with us
Ragobir, Lor Khan, and a Chilasi coolie, whom I had
called Richard the Third, from his likeness to the
usual portraits of that monarch. More firewood and
provisions and a silk tent were taken up to this
camp at the head of the glacier. Two rucksacks
had already been left high up on the rocks on the
9th. It was now Mummery's intention to take some
more odds and ends up to where they were, and if
possible push on with about a third of the pro-
visions to about 20,000 feet, and leave them there
for the final attempt. This necessitated sleejring
on the top of the second rib of rocks. By the time
I had arrived at the upper camp underneath Nanga
Parbat I began to develop a headache, and, being
otherwise ill as well, I had reluctantly to give up

110 ATTEMPT TO ASCEND

a 1 1 \ idea of climbing further. Mummery, Ragobir,
and Lor Khan went on, whilst I spent most of the
morning watching them climb like flies up the
almost perpendicular rib of rocks above me.

But I had to get home that night, and also get
the coolie home as well. This was no easy matter,
for there were some steep ice slopes, with steps cut
in them, and crevasses at the bottom, which so
frightened poor Richard the Third, that for a long
time I could not induce him even to try. In fact,
ultimately I had to threaten him violently with my
ice-axe. Whether he thought that it was a choice
of death by cold steel above, or cold ice below in
the crevasse, I don't know, but he chose the latter,
and was much surprised to find that he was not
going to be sacrificed after all. Then, before we got
home it began to rain heavily, the mists came down,
everything becoming dull and dreary, the wind
sighed sorrowfully up and down the valley, and I
was sorry for Mummery on the inhospitable slopes
of the great mountain. Mummery spent the night
on the top of the second rib of rocks, and next day
lie climbed about a thousand feet up the third rib,
where he left a rucksack with food. The climb was
carried out almost entirely in mist ; in fact, in the
afternoon down at the camp the mist and rain made
things thoroughly uncomfortable. I was beginning

/ V } / /

'/•/>/// ////'

////////'■/■ ;

NANGA PARBAT 111

to get anxious about Mummery, for he did not come
back by sunset, and the night promised to be one
of drenching rain. But later, in the dark, he
marched back into camp, entirely wet through, but
far more cheerful than the circumstances war-
ranted, and very pleased with the climbing. His
account of the ice world on Nanga Parbat was
wonderful. Nowhere in the Caucasus had he seen
anything to compare with it. Avalanches had fallen
down thousands of feet, set at an angle of over 60
degrees, that would have almost swept away towns.
The crevasses were enormous, and the rock-climbing,
although difficult, was set at such a steep angle
that no time would be lost in making height to-
wards the upper glacier underneath the final peak.
If only the weather would clear, Mummery was
sure that we could get on to this upper glacier.
But the weather sulked and was against us, it
rained nearly all the next day, finishing up with
a tremendous thunderstorm. In hope that fine
weather would now set in, we turned into our tents
for the night. About midnight, gusts of cold wind
began to moan amongst the stunted pines that sur-
rounded our tents ; then, gathering in force, this
demon of the mountains howled round our tents,
and snow came down in driven sheets. The
anger of the spirits that inhabited the mountains

112 ATTEMPT TO ASCEND

bad been roused, we were being informed of what
awaited us, should we persist in our impious
endeavours to penetrate into the sanctuaries above.

Many times in the pitch darkness of the night
I thought the small Mummery tent I was in would
be simply torn in pieces, but towards daylight the
hurricane gradually died away, and by nine o'clock
the sun came out. The scene, when I emerged
from the tent, I shall never forget. Bright sun-
shine and dazzling white snow — but where were all
the groves of rhododendron bushes, from four to
five feet high, that yesterday had surrounded our
camp ? Loaded with the snow, they had been
beaten fiat, and lay there plastered and stuck tight
to the ground, by the ice and snow of the blizzard
of the night before.

But under the double action of the sun's heat
and the rapid evaporation that takes place when
the barometer stands only at about sixteen inches,
the snow, which was over six inches deep, soon
melted, and by the afternoon had all disappeared
from around our camp. On the morrow a cloud-
less sky and a northerly wind changed the whole
aspect of affairs.

We had a long consultation, Mummery arguing
that we ought to start for Nanga Parbat at once,
and make an attempt to reach the summit. His

NANGA PARBAT FROM THE DIAMIRAI GLACIER.

A— Upper Camp at the base of Nanga Parbat.

B — First rib of rocks.

C — Second rib of rocks.

D — Sleeping-place on the top of the second rib of rocks.

E— Third rib of rocks.

F— Mr. A. F. Mummery's highest point (over 20,000 feet).

G — The foot of the Diama Glacier.

H — The Diamirai Glacier.

The dotted line shows route taken.

NANGA PARBAT 113

only fear was that Hastings would feel that we
were not treating him fairly by starting before he
had returned from Astor and could join us in the
climb. But the weather had been changeable, and
the Chilas coolies with us were predicting that
when the next snowstorm came, it would be worse
than the last, and the snow would not clear away
so quickly. There seemed great probability in their
predictions. At any rate, with the cold north wind
the good weather would last, but we ought to make
use of that good weather at once.

So, hoping that Hastings would forgive us, we
started on the final attempt to reach the summit of
Nanga Parbat.

Our position was as follows : — We had plenty of
provisions and firewood at the camp at the head of
the glacier, a tent and more provisions with some
spirits and a boiling tin on the top of the second
ridge of rocks, and a last rucksack with more edibles
half way up the third rib of rock.

On the evening of the 18th, Mummery, Eagobir,

and I slept at the camp at the head of the glacier

(15,000 feet), but next morning they went on alone,

for the coarse food of the previous three weeks had

not agreed with me : flour that is largely composed

of grindstone is apt to upset one's digestion. Again

I sat for a whole morning watching them crawl

111. ATTEM PT TO ASCEND

slowly up that second rib of rock. Once they were
hidden from my sight in a huge cloud of snow dust,
fche fringe of one of those tremendous avalanches
that T have only seen in the Himalaya. At last,
becoming too small to follow with the eye, they
disappeared from my sight.

That night I was again back in the base camp.
There I found a note from Hastings that had been
sent on ahead from the Lubar nullah with the goat-
herd and a coolie ; and the next day Hastings
himself arrived with large quantities of provisions.
He had been as far as Astor, and said that without
the invaluable help of Goman Singh he would never
have got the coolies back over the Mazeno La.

Late that night Mummery and Ragobir came
into camp. They had passed the second night on
the summit of the second rib of rocks. Next morn-
ing, starting before daylight, they had pushed on
up the final rib towards the upper snow-field.
The climbing, Mummery admitted, was exces-
sively difficult, but the higher he went the easier it
became. Finally, at a height of over 20,000 feet,
for he could see over the Nanga Parbat col on his
right, Ragobir turned ill : it was therefore folly to
attempt to spend another night on the mountain at
that height. Reluctantly he had to return ; and
his disappointment was great, for, as he said, most

NANGA PARBAT 115

of the difficulties had been overcome below the
upper snow-field, and he was confident that had he
reached these upper snows and been able to spend
another night on the mountain, he might have
reached the summit on the following day.

Thus ended the only attempt Mummery made to
reach the summit of Nanga Parbat.

I shall always look upon it as one of his finest
climbs. Part of it I know from personal experience,
and from Mummery's description of the upper half,
there must have been some magnificent climbing,
surrounded by an ice world such as can be seen
nowhere except on peaks with at least 15,000 feet
of snow on them. But it was on too large a scale
for ordinary mortals, and the difficulties began just
above the camp, at the head of the glacier, 12,000 feet
below the summit of the mountain. Although the
last 6000 feet of the mountain does not look as if
it would present much difficulty or danger, yet
above 20,000 feet one would necessarily make
height very slowly, and much step -cutting would be
almost impossible at that height.

The following two days were spent in discussing
what we should do next ; for Mummery had very
sorrowfully come to the conclusion that his route
up Nanga Parbat from the Diamirai glacier must
be abandoned.

116 ATTEMPT TO ASCEND

Ultimately it was agreed that, owing to all the
recent snowfalls, a purely snow route was the
only one that would give any chance of success.
Our last chance lay in finding such a route ; in
the Rakiot nullah, there perhaps Nanga Parbat
might be less precipitous. So thither we deter-
mined to go.

When Mummery and Ragobir had come down
from the mountain, they did not bring with them
the rucksacks from the top of the second rib of
rocks. These were too valuable to leave behind.
Mummery, disliking the interminable scrambling
over loose stones which he would have to endure
should he come with the coolies, suggested that the
two Gurkhas should be sent early on the 23rd up
the glacier to fetch the rucksacks down to the camp
at the head of the Diamirai glacier. Here later in
the day Mummery should join them, and from this
point he could go up the Diama glacier which lay
between Nanga Parbat and the Ganalo peak, 21,650
feet high. A snow pass (Diama pass) would then
separate them from the Rakiot nullah. He left us
on the 23rd, and took with him Lor Khan, and
Rosamir, our head coolie, to carry some extra pro-
visions up to the higher camp. That evening they
were joined by Ragobir and Goman Singh, who had
successfully brought down the rucksacks.

Nanga Parbat.

Diama Pass.

%lraf<^

x*^

-*^»

2 <

3 *

NANGA PARBAT 117

Next morning, the 24th August, Lor Khan and
Rosamir, having seen them start off up the Diama
valley to the east, returned down the Diamirai
valley and joined us later. Mummery, Ragobir,
and Goman Sinjrh were never seen aerain.

CHAPTER VIII

THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD JOURNEY
TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH

' For some . . .
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.'

Rubaiyi'd o/Omak Khayyam.

Our route with the coolies was to skirt along the
lower slopes of Nanga Parbat as near the snow
line as possible. This would lead us first into the
Ganalo nullah, and thence to the Pakiot nullah.
There we had arranged to meet Mummery by the
side of the glacier. Having crossed the Diamirai
glacier, we went straight up the opposite side of
the valley for a pass on the ridge south-east of
a pointed rock peak at the head of the Gonar
nullah. This peak we have named the Gonar peak,
and the pass the Ped pass (about 16,000 feet).
From this pass a superb view of the head of the
Diamirai nullah was obtained, whilst to the south
and south-west a beautifully shaped snow moun-
tain, beyond the Lubar glacier, probably the Tho-
sho peak, shone in the sunlight over the Goman

118

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 119

Singh pass. To the east we saw for the first time
the great Chongra peaks on the north-east of
Nanga Parbat. On the north side of our pass
snow slopes stretched down some hundreds of
feet to a small glacier. Some of the coolies tried
an impromptu glissade here, and seemed rather
pleased at the result ; but it was a dangerous
experiment, for various rocks and stones awaited
their arrival at the bottom. At last in the dark
after much trouble we managed to get down far
enough to collect wood for our camp fires, and
put up our tent by the side of a small stream.

Next day it was found necessary to climb up
again at least 1000 feet before descending about
2500 feet on to the snout of the Ganalo glacier.
This we crossed on the ice. On the far bank most
luxuriant vegetation covered the hill-side, and for
a long time we climbed rapidly upwards through
woods of pines, birches, and other trees till the
rhododendrons were reached late in the afternoon.
Still we pushed on, hoping to get over into the
Rakiot nullah, for perhaps Mummery would be
there awaiting tents and food. But the coolies
were dead beat ; therefore, when we were still more
than 1000 feet below the col, we were forced to
camp beyond the limit of the brushwood in an
open grass valley.

L20 THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

Next day we went over the pass, about 1G,500
feet, into the Rakiot nullah. From the summit
a splendid view of the Rakiot glacier and the
northern side of Nanga Parbat could be seen.
Never have I seen a glacier that presented such
a sea of stormy ruin ; the waste of frozen billows
stretched ever upwards towards the ice-slopes that
guarded the topmost towers of the great moun-
tain. Thunder and rain welcomed us, and amidst
dripping trees and cold mist our camp was pitched
on the true left bank of the glacier. From the
top of the last pass we had come over we could
see the great face down which Mummery and
the Gurkhas would have had to come had they
reached the Diama pass. It seemed to us quite
hopeless. I spent about half an hour looking
through a powerful telescope for any traces of
steps cut down the only ridge that looked at all
feasible. I could see none. Hastings and I were
therefore of the opinion that Mummery had turned
back. This he had told us he intended to do
should he find the pass either dangerous or very
difficult, for, as he pointed out, he was not going
to risk anything on an ordinary pass. Moreover,
he had expressly taken sufficient food with him,
leaving it at the upper camp, so that should he
have to return and follow our footsteps he would

/// J? //////// ///.J. J //■/•/// //<■ ■ ///////■/■ I/////M

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 121

have enough to last him for three days. In the
Rakiot nullah we could find no traces of hirn.
Lor Khan and Rosamir were at once sent back
into the Ganalo nullah to meet Mummery with
extra food, Hastings and I in the meantime explor-
ing some distance up the valley. The day was
more or less wet, with the mists lying low down
on the mountains. It cleared, however, in the
evening. The next two days were also wet and
disagreeable. We were beginning to get anxious,
and when on the 29th Lor Khan and the coolie
returned, having seen nothing of Mummery, some-
thing had to be done.

We imagined that when the pass had proved to
be too difficult, Mummery had turned back to the
high camp where the food had been left. From
there he would follow our route, but as the
weather had been wretched, with mist lying over
all the hills, perhaps he had missed his way. Or
perhaps he might have sprained an ankle and be
still in the Diamirai nullah. It was therefore
agreed that Hastings should return towards the
Diamirai nullah, and as my time was nearly at an
end, if I wished to get back to England by the end
of September, I should make my way to Astor
as quickly as I could. Once there, I could wait a
few days, and Hastings promised that as soon as

122 THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

possible lie would send a coolie down to the
nearest spot on the Gilgit-Chilas road, where there
was a telegraph-station, and telegraph the news
to me at Astor.

Tims we parted company, Hastings returning
along our old route to the Diamirai, whilst I with
a coolie and the cook set off for Astor.

About a mile down the valley we were met by
some of the wild folk from Gor, a village on the
opposite side of the Indus. These inhabitants of
Gor have a somewhat evil reputation. Not many
years before, an officer out shooting in one of their
nullahs was nearly murdered. They did succeed in
killing his shikari who was with him, but he himself
escaped owing to the lucky appearance of some
soldiers from Gilgit who were going down the valley
of the Indus towards Chilas. Bruce also had some
experience of these turbulent tribesmen when stop-
ping at Darang, on the banks of the Indus below
Gor ; for whilst partridge-shooting in the hill-
sides the beaters had to be armed with rifles,
and played the double role of protecting Bruce and
driving the game. The Gor shepherds that I met
were, I believe, the only ones on the south side of the
Indus. Owing to the rich pasturage in the Rakiot
nullah, they kept sheep and goats there. I must
say they treated me very well, and two of them

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 123

accompanied me for a couple of days, carrying the
rucksacks and showing us the way.

The first night we slept in an old and disused
shepherd's encampment high up, just at the limits
of the pines. Next day we had to descend by most
precipitous slopes to the bottom of the Buldar
nullah. Our second night was spent high up on
the eastern slopes of the nullah and short of the
pass which was called the Liskom pass by the
natives.

On the next day we crossed this pass (about
16,000 feet). The view of the Chongra peaks from
here is most striking, backed as it is by the great
upper snow-field of the Rakiot glacier and Nanga
Parbat behind. Just across the Astor valley to the
east rises the Dichil peak, a terrific, double-headed
rock pinnacle that is certainly over 20,000 feet high.

These obliging Gor shepherds had accompanied us
thus far, but no amount of persuasion could induce
them to go one step further. At last, becoming
frightened, they put the bags down on the snow
and fled down the hill-side back to the Buldar
nullah, and I was unable to give them anything
for all their kindness. That afternoon, 1st Sep-
tember, I reached Dashkin on the Gilgit road, and
was back again in civilised country. From there
I made my way to Astor.

IlH THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

It was on the 5th of September that I received
a telegram from Hastings. He had returned to the
Diamirai nullah without finding Mummery. The
camp there was just as we had left it. Next day,
1st September, he made his way up the glacier to f

the high camp under Nanga Parbat with Kosamir
and Lor Khan ; there he found the extra provisions
and some other things exactly as they had been
placed by Mummery on the morning of the 24th
There was only one conclusion to draw — Mummery,
Ragobir, and Goman Singh had been killed some-
where up the glacier that lies between the Ganalo
peak and Nanga Parbat. For there was absolutely
no way out, except the way they had gone in.
The Diama pass over to the Pakiot nullah we knew
to be impossible on the eastern face, on the south lay
Nanga Parbat, whilst on the north was the Ganalo
peak, 21,500 feet high. If, therefore, they never
returned for the provisions, some catastrophe must
have overtaken them during their attempt to climb
over the pass.

From what I have seen of the valley, an avalanche
falling from the north face of Nanga Parbat seems
the most probable explanation ; but in that vast
ice world the hidden dangers are so many that any
suggestion must necessarily be the merest guessing,
and what happened we shall never know.

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 125

For Hastings to attempt to explore this glacier
alone would have been a most hazardous and hope-
less task. He had no one with him on whom he
could rely, and the area to be explored was also
far too large. His only alternative therefore was
to go at once with the greatest speed possible to
the nearest post where he knew an Englishman
was, namely at Chilas. This he did, but it was not
till the 5th of September that he reached Jiliper
on the Indus and was able to telegraph to me at
Astor.

In the meantime the villagers in the Bunar
nullah had been ordered by the officer in command
at Chilas to explore all the valleys round the
Diamirai, and on the receipt of the telegram at
Astor, Captain Stewart, the head political officer
of the Gilgit district, sent word to the people in
the Rupal nullah to do the same as far as the
Mazeno La. I felt, however, that there was no
help and no hope. Out of that valley up which
Mummery had gone there was but one way : that
was the one by which he had entered it ; he had
not returned, the provisions were untouched. It
was a dreadful ending to our expedition. The
mountains amongst which we had spent so many
pleasant days together no longer were the same.
The sunshine and the beauty were gone; savage,

126 THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

cruel, and inhospitable the black pinnacles of the
ridges and the overhanging glaciers of cold ice
filled my mind with only one thought. I could
not stop at Astor. Moreover, by descending the
valley I should at least meet Hastings sooner, for
he was returning by forced marches to join me
at Astor. On the Gth September we met at
Doian. Beyond what he had already told me in
his telegram there was nothing.

Together we returned to Astor to arrange our
future movements. There we agreed that it was
necessary to return to the Diamirai nullah at once,
and together explore the upper part of the valley
beyond the high camp. Provisions and ponies were
hastily got, and after having arranged with Captain
Stewart for as much help as possible, we started
for the Diamirai by way of the Indus valley and
the Bunar nullah.

The first day's march down the Astor valley
brought us to Doian. There we were hospitably
received by the officers of the Pioneer regiment,
who, earlier in the year under Colonel Kelly, had
marched over the Shandur pass to the relief of
Chitral.

Below Doian the road descends rapidly by zig-
zags towards the Astor stream : soon all vegetation
is left behind, and one enters a parched and barren

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 127

land. The valley is hemmed in by precipitous
cliffs on both sides, and the road in many places
has been hewn and blasted out of the solid rock.
Bones of horses strew the wayside, and occasionally
a vulture will sail by. The heat becomes oppressive,
and the glare from the hillsides down which no water
runs suggests a mountainous country in the Sahara.

Before this road was built, the old path led over
the summit of the Hatu Pir, and the traveller now
misses a marvellous view of Haramosh, Bakipushi,
and the Indus valley by plunging down into this
bare, desolate nnllah, shut in on all sides by pre-
cipitous hills.

The small post of Bam ghat, or Shaitan Nara,
where this road finally emerges from the Astor
nullah into the great valley of the Indus, is merely
a post for guarding the suspension-bridge across
the Astor stream. Here are stationed some Kash-
mir troops, and here it is that the roads to Chilas
and Gilgit separate.

The Chilas road follows down the Indus on the
left bank, through a country which probably has
no equal in the world. How this astounding valley
was formed it is difficult to say ; but the valley
is there, and a wilder, grander, more desolate, and
more colossal rift cannot occur elsewhere on the
earth's surface.

128 THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

' Is this the scene
Whero the ol<l Earthquake demon taught her young
Ruin?'

From the summit of Nanga Parbat to the waters
of the Indus below is in depth nearly 24,000 feet.
On the opposite side, the naked hillsides rising in
precipice after precipice are entirely barren of all
vegetation. Waterworn into innumerable gullies
and rock towers, they present a melancholy and
arid appearance ; and, although their summits are
12,000 feet above the Indus, they do not form
a north side to this gorge in any way com-
parable with that on the south. The floor of
the valley is filled with the debris of count-
less Himalayan deluges, yet the Indus looks
like a small and dirty stream. To appreciate
in any way the gigantic scale of the whole is
quite impossible. What is the depth of that
stealthily flowing flood and the measure of its
waters, who can say ? For it is more than six
hundred miles from its source, and its tributaries
sometimes are almost as big as itself. From the
borders of Swat and Chitral, from the Darkot pass,
from the Kilik beyond Hunza, and from the Hispar
pass, the waters collect to form the Gilgit river,
one only of the many tributaries of the Indus.
This tract of the Mustagh range is nearly two
hundred miles long by eighty broad. The Shigar

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 129

river drains the waters from the Mustagh range and
K 2 , perhaps the greatest accumulation of ice and
snow that exists outside the arctic regions. The
N ubra and Shayok rivers collect their waters from
a yet larger area. But still east of all these tribu-
taries, the Indus itself rises three hundred miles
away in those unknown lands of Tibet behind the
Himalaya and near the source of that mysterious
river of eastern India, the Bramaputra. Yet all
these collected waters are penned into this ap-
parently slow flowing and narrow river, as with
silent but stealthy haste it twists and turns
through the gigantic chasm at the base of Nanga
Parbat. Once, not many years ago, in December
1840, into the upper end of this gorge the side of
the Hatu Pir fell, forming a dam probably over
1000 feet high. 1 A lake was formed behind it for
miles. The water rose to the level of Bunji fort,
300 feet above the river below, and up the Gilgit
valley this lake, newly formed, reached nearly to
Gilgit itself. For six months the waters were
held back till, topping the vast accumulation,
they burst the dam, ' and rushed in dark tumult
thundering.' The lake is said to have emptied in
one day. A small remnant of the barrier can still
be seen near Lechre on the Chilas road.

1 See note, p. 305.
I

ISO THE INDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

The heat in this valley is so great after eleven
o'clock in the day, that it is impossible to travel,
and makes it necessary to seek what shade there
may be till the sun has sunk low in the sky. The
naked rocks glisten and tremble in the heat, the
staring colours of the parched hillsides, and the
intense glare of the sun in this desert land, are
in curious contrast to the shady valleys that lie
thousands of feet up, hidden away in the recesses
of the great mountain. But it is after the evening
shadows have one by one lengthened, after the last
glow of the hot orange sunset has at last faded out
of the sky, and from out the darkness the rising
moon lights up this deserted landscape with mys-
terious shadows and perplexing distances, that the
whole scene becomes totally beyond description.
The intricacy of form shown by the silent moun-
tains seem to be some magnificent and great ima-
gination from the mind of a Turner. The white
moonlight, and the grotesque black shadows and
leering pinnacles piercing the starlit sky, can only
belong to a land dreamt of by a Gustave Dore
as a fitting illustration to the Wandering Jew,
and only be described by Shelley : —

' At midnight
The moon arose : and lo ! the ethereal cliffs
Of Caucasus, whose icy summits shone
• Among the stars like sunlight, and around

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 131

Whose caverned base the whirlpools and the waves
Bursting and eddying irresistibly
Rage and resound for ever.'

But without doubt the dominant sensation in
this strange land is that of fear and abhorrence ;
and what makes it all the more appalling is that
this thing before one is there in all its nakedness ;
it has no reserve, there is nothing hidden. Its
rugged insolence, its brutal savagery, and its utter
disregard of all the puny efforts of man, crushes out
of the mind any idea that this spot belongs to an
ordinary world.

Whether in the day or the night it is the same.
During the stifling hours of noon the valley sleeps
in the scorching sunlight, but there, always there,
is that monstrous flood below, slowly, ceaselessly
moving. Occasionally the waters will send up an
angry and deep-tongued murmur, when some huge
eddy, rising to the surface, breaks, and belches out
the waters that have come from the lowest depths.

At night in the stillness and the heat, as one
lies unable to sleep, imagination runs riot; from
out the inky shadows that seam the hill-sides in
the pale moonlight, dragons and great creeping
monsters seemingly appear crawling slowly down
to drink at the ebon flood beneath. And imaodna-
tion easily in restless dreams becomes reality, thus

132 THE [NDUS VALLEY AND THIRD

adding tenfold to the already accumulated horrors.
But at last in the darkness —

'Before tho phantom of false morning dies ' —

suddenly a breath of cold air, as from heaven,
descends like a splash of cool water. It has
wandered down from the upper snows. Then a
few moments later comes another; and, tired out,
real sleep claims one at last.

Later, when one awakes, the morning sun has
risen, sending his light slanting across the hillsides
with a promise that before he sets we may be
delivered from the bottom of this singular abyss. No
description, however, can possibly give an adequate
idea of the immensity, the loneliness, and the feeling
of the insignificance of human affairs that is pro-
duced by this valley of the Indus below Khamghat.

It was not till the 13th that we reached
Bunar Post, a small station for troops at the
bottom of the Bunar nullah. Here we were met
by Captain dc Vismes, who was in command of the
Chilas district. He had most kindly come from
Chilas to help us with coolies up the Bunar nullah,
and from there to the Diamirai nullah. From
Bunar Post to our destination it took no less than
three days' hard travelling ; for as I have already
pointed out, it is not possible to go straight up the

JOURNEY TO DIAMIRAI NULLAH 133

valley. If we had been able to travel direct, it
meant an ascent of some 9000 feet, but by the only
possible route that existed, nearly double that
height had to be climbed before we finally, on the
lGth, found ourselves once more in the Diamirai
nullah. What a change, however, met our gaze !
The great masses of wild rose-trees that had
welcomed us on our first visit were bare even of
leaves. The willow groves now lifted gaunt,
leafless branches into the chill air, and sighed
mournfully when the cold wind shook them, and
the rhododendrons were powdered with snow.
Winter had set in, as the Chilas herdsmen had
warned us it would, only a month before ; and the
contrast was all the more marked when compared
with the temperature of nearly 100° in the shade,
which existed a few miles away by the Indus.

Hastings and I soon saw that any attempt at
exploration amongst the higher glaciers was out of
the question. We went up the glacier as far
as half-way to the old upper camp where the
provisions had been found untouched, but even
there it was wading through snow nearly a foot deep ;
ultimately we climbed through heavy powdery
snow, perhaps 500 feet up the south side of the
valley, to obtain a last look at the valley in
which Mummery, Ragobir, and Goman Singh had

I :;i THE INDUS VALLEY

perished. The avalanches were thundering down
the lace of Nanga Parbat, filling the air with
their dust ; and if nothing else had made it impos-
sible to penetrate into the fastnesses of this cold,
cheerless, and snow-covered mountain-land, they at
least spoke with no uncertain voice, and bade us
be gone. Slowly we descended, and for the last
time looked on the great mountain and the white
snows where in some unknown spot our friends
lay buried.

But although Mummery is no longer with us,
though to those who knew him the loss is irrepar-
able, though he never can lead and cheer us on up
the ' gaunt, bare slabs, the square, precipitous steps
in the ridge, and the bulging ice of the gully,' yet
his memory will remain — he will not be forgotten.
The pitiless mountains have claimed him — and —
amongst the snow-laden glaciers of the mighty hills
he rests. ' The curves of the wind-moulded cornice,
the delicate undulations of the fissured snow,'
cover him, whilst the 'grim precipices, the great
brown rocks bending down into immeasurable
space,' and the snow-peaks he loved so well, keep
watch, and guard over the spot where he lies.

THE CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

' A land of streams ! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go :

They saw the gleaming river seaward flow

From the inner land : far off, three mountain-tops,

Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,

Stood sunset-flushed.'

The Lotos-Eaters.

Far away in the west of North America, west of
the Great Lakes, west of Lake Winnipeg, west of
the endless prairie, lies a ' Great Lone Land ' : a
land almost bare of inhabitants, a land deserted, if
we except a few prospectors, trappers, and wander-
ing Indians who spend their time amongst the
mountain fastnesses, either hunting wild animals or
searching for gold and minerals.

Looking at a map of North America, one sees
how a vast range of mountains stretches from far
south in the United States to Alaska, more than two
thousand miles away. This backbone of a continent
in reality is made up of a series of ranges, running
parallel with one another. In Canada there are,
roughly, only two : the Rocky Mountains to the
east, and the Cascade range to the west, forming

135

136 (ANA hi AN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

t be shore oi" fche Pacific Ocean. In breadth about
five hundred miles, in length over fifteen hundred,
if one includes the continuation of the Cascade
range into Alaska, where are situated the highest
mountains in North America : Mount St. Elias,
18,090 feet, Mount Logan, 19,539 feet, and Mount
M'Kinley (at the head waters of the Shushitna
river), 20,874 feet. Much of this country still has
' unexplored ' printed large across it, and until a
few years ago, when a trans-continental railway
connected the Atlantic with the Pacific Ocean,
parts of the western portion of the Dominion of
Canada, stretching as it does for thousands of miles,
covered with dense forests, watered by unnum-
bered rivers, was as difficult of access as Siberia.

The magnitude of the Dominion, even at the
present day, is hard to realise. It can only be
appreciated by those who have travelled through
its mighty woods, over its vast lakes and prairies,
and explored the fastnesses of those lonely canyons
of the West. Halifax, in Nova Scotia, is nearer to
Bristol than to Vancouver on the Pacific coast,
and Klondike is further north of Vancouver than
Iceland is of London. Since, however, the Canadian-
Pacific Railway has bridged the continent, these
mountain solitudes of the Far West are much more
accessible to the ordinary traveller, and the wild,

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 137

secluded valleys of the Canadian Rocky Mountains
are becoming more frequented by sportsmen and
mountaineers. It does not need a prophet to
foretell their future. A land where the dark green
valleys are filled with primeval forest, where the
pine, spruce, and fir, poplars, white maple, and
cedar, vie with each other in adding colour to
the landscape and beauty to the innumerable
rivers, lakes, and streams : a land where endless
snow-clad mountains send up their summits into
the clear air from great glaciers below, where ridges
of crags, pinnacles of rock, and broken mountain-
side, catch sometimes the glow of the early dawn
or the sunset, or at others bask in the glare of the
midday heat, changing their colour perpetually from
grey to crimson, from gold to purple, whilst below
always lie the mysterious dark pine woods, filled
with scents of the trees, and the noise of the wind
as it sighs amongst the upper branches : such a land
can only be employed by man for one purpose, it
must become a playground where the tired people
can make holiday.

It must become the Switzerland of North America,
and, like Switzerland, no doubt, some day will be
completely overrun ; at present, however, the
valleys are unspoilt ; wild, beautiful, untouched and
unscarred by the hand of man. Fortunately the

L38 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

( 'anadian Rocky Mountains never can be the centre
of any greal manufacturing district ; and as they are
in extent vastly greater than the Alps, for a very long
time bo come they will remain the hunting ground
for those who care to spend their spare time in
breathing pure air, and in living amidst splendid
scenery.

At the present time the exploration of these moun-
tains is going rapidly forward, at least in those por-
tions near where the Canadian-Pacific Railway passes
through them ; and the mountaineer of to-day is
offered great opportunities. For should he climb
to the summit of any peak, even near the railway,
high enough to give an extensive view, by far the
greater number of the mountains and peaks that
can be seen stretching in every direction, as far as
the eye can see to the horizon, are as yet untrodden
by human feet.

The approach also to this splendid range is
exceptionally fine. From the east, as the traveller
leaves Winnipeg and enters on the prairie, till he
reaches the foot of the mountains at Morley, nearly
nine hundred miles away, the broad endless spread
of the open country is seen. On many this appar-
ently desolate, never-ending expanse of rolling grass-
land produces a sensation of weariness. But it is like
the open sea in its size, and, like the ocean, has a

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 139

charm that ordinary country does not possess. Its
very immensity gives a mystery to it : sometimes
the air is clear as crystal, and the white clouds on
the horizon seem to be touching some far-distant
fold of the landscape ; at others the plain dances
in the heat, and great mirage lakes can be seen
covering the middle distances ; again, thunder-
storms pass along the sky, whose piled masses
of cumuli clouds send down ribbons of fire,
often causing fires that sweep for miles over the open
grassland. At early dawn and sunset, however,
are produced the great scenic effects of the prairie,
and to look down the sky from the zenith to the
setting sun, a great red ball just disappearing below
the horizon, and count the colours that light up the
islands, bays, promontories, and continents of that
marvellous cloudland, makes one forget that one is
in a railway train, or has anything to do with
everyday life ; it is like actually seeing for the first
time some fairyland that one has read of in one's
childhood. Afterwards, when the full moon comes
out, the distances seem almost greater, and one can
lie comfortably in bed and gaze at the landscape
sliding swiftly by, comparing the ease and rapidity
of modern travel, which does hundreds of miles in
one night, with that of the pioneers who first tra-
versed these endless plains a century or more ago.

140 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

Near a station called Gleichen, the Rocky Moun-
tains can be seen more than one hundred miles
away, hut it is not till one approaches them that it
is recognised how abruptly they rise out of the
prairie, like a long wall, with apparently not an
opening ; and, even when a few miles away, they
seem an impenetrable barrier. The railway, how-
ever, follows the bank of the Bow river, which
from its size must at least come down a moderate-
sized valley, and just above where the Kananaskis,
a side river, is crossed, a sudden bend of the line
takes one through the gateway of the hills and the
Bow valley is entered, which is then followed west-
ward up to the Great Divide, or watershed, sixty
miles away.

The approach to the Rocky Mountains from the
Pacific coast is through country of a totally differ-
ent nature. From Vancouver to the Great Divide
is five hundred miles ; along the whole of this dis-
tance the railway line is surrounded by the most
splendid mountain scenery. At first the line runs
up the great and broad valley of the Fraser river,
which when seen in the light of a fine September
afternoon is magnificent. For it is shut in on all
sides by high mountains (one, Mount Baker, being
14,000 feet), and filled with such timber as only
grows on the Pacific coast, all of it the natural

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 141

forest, vast Douglas firs of giant girth, cedars,
poplars, and maples, with their autumn- colouring
of crimson, green, and gold, adding beauty to this
lovely valley ; whilst winding backwards and for-
wards across it, flows the vast flood of the Fraser.
Certainly it is one of the finest large valleys I have
ever seen. Then further up is the world-famous
Fraser canyon, not so beautiful as the greater valley
below, but grand and terrible in its own way. There
are fiercer and bigger rivers and gorges in the
Himalaya. Here it is that for over twenty miles
the railway track has been hewn in many places out
of the solid wall of the canyon, whilst below rush
the pent-up waters of the great river, sometimes
slowly moving onwards with only the occasional eddy
coming up to the surface to show the depth of water,
again rushing with wildest tumult between narrow
walls of black rock, tossing up the spray, and foam-
ing along, afraid that unless it hastened madly
through its rock-girt channel the almost overhang-
ing walls, hundreds of feet high, would fall in and
prevent it ever getting down to the open sea.
Leaving the valley of the Fraser, the railway follows
the desolate gorge of the Thompson river, and after
passing through a series of minor mountains, comes
down to the valley of the Columbia river, which here
is running almost due south. If it had been possible

142 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

to have built t lie lino up i he < ' < « 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 > i «• l valley to the
Rocky Mountains, no doubt that route would have
been followed, but the railway has been taken over
the Selkirk range instead. It is whilst crossing the
Selkirk's that by far the most wonderful part of this
mountain line is to be seen. From the Columbia to
the summit there is a rise of 2800 feet, and the
descent on the other side to the Columbia river again
is 1775 feet in less than twenty miles. Here are
to be seen the miles of snow-sheds through which the
train has to go, whilst tow r ering into the sky are all
the white snow-peaks of the Selkirks, and the glaciers
that almost come down to the railway itself.

From the Columbia to the Great Divide another
ascent has to be made, this time of 2800 feet, and
the last 1250 feet of this is done in the short dis-
tance of ten miles. It is not in any way exagger-
ating to say that these five hundred miles of line
give by far the most extensive and varied wild
mountain scenery that can be obtained from any
railway train in the world. The Fraser valley, and
canyon, the Selkirk Mountains, and the scenery of
the Rocky Mountains, before the Great Divide is
reached, are each one of them wonderfully beautiful,
and each one of them possesses so much individ-
uality of its own, that to forget the impressions
they make would be impossible.

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 143

The Great Divide is at the watershed, or on the
top of the Kicking Horse pass. One of the most
curious features of the Canadian Rocky Mountains
is the lowness of the passes, also their number.
The average height of the mountains is between
10,000 and 11,000 feet, yet none of these passes are
much over 6000 feet, so that the simplest way to
describe the range is to take the various masses
of mountains that lie between the passes.

Twenty miles south of the Kicking Horse pass
lies first the Vermilion pass (5265 feet), next comes
the Simpson pass (6884 feet), thirteen miles further
south, thus giving three groups of mountains which
can be named as follows : —

(1) The Temple group (or Bow range); and the

Goodsir group (or Ottertail range).

This group is south of the Kicking Horse
pass and north of the Vermilion pass.

(2) The Ball group, which lies south of the

Vermilion pass and north of the Simpson
pass.

(3) The Assiniboine group, which lies south of

the Simpson pass.

North of the Kicking Horse pass the peaks and

glaciers of the Rocky Mountains have been more

carefully explored and for a greater distance than

on the south side of the railway. It will be suffi-

Ill CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

cient, however, only to mention the passes through
the mountains which are to be found in that
tract of country (120 miles long), lying south of
the Athabasca pass, and north of the Kicking
Horse pass. The first pass across the Rocky
Mountains is the Howse pass, 4800 feet, and thirty
miles north of the railway; thirty miles further
north is the Thompson pass, 6800 feet; next comes
Fortress Lake pass, thirty-five miles distant, and
only 4300 feet high ; and lastly, twenty-five miles
further, still to the north, the Athabasca pass, 5700
feet. Thus if we omit the mountains north of the
Athabasca pass, there are four more groups. Taking
them in order, they are : —

(4) The Balfour group (or Wapta range), lying

between the Kicking Horse pass and the
Howse pass.

(5) The Forbes group, lying between the Howse

pass and the Thompson pass.

(G) The Columbia group, lying between the

Thompson pass and the Fortress Lake pass.

(7) The Mount Hooker group, lying between the

Fortress Lake pass and the Athabasca pass.

In the Temple-Goodsir group, which is situated

just to the south of the Canadian Pacific Railway,

are a very large number of rock- and snow-peaks ;

in fact, probably more varied rock climbing can be

Showing the Ice Fields and the Mountains

Heights when marked * only approximate

Scale ..I' English Mil. -

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 145

found here than in any of the other groups of
mountains. Mounts Temple, Lefroy, Victoria,
Stephen, Cathedral, Vaux, and the Chancellor have
all been ascended, but Goodsir, Hungabee, and
Deltaform, all of them first-class peaks, yet wait for
the first party to set foot on their summits. Besides
the numerous good mountain climbs that can be
found in this district, many most charming lakes
and pine-clad valleys lie hidden away in the narrow
valleys. It w r ould be hard to find in any mountain-
land a more perfect picture than that afforded by
Lake Louise, a clear, deep lake, surrounded by pine
woods and snow-clad peaks whose reflection in the
water seems almost more natural than the reality
in the distance. The O'Hara lakes and Paradise
valley also possess the wild grandeur and rich
fertility that is one of the chief attractions of the
Rocky Mountains of Canada.

Of the Mount Ball group nothing need be said,
Mount Ball being the only peak in it which reaches
11,000 feet. As seen from the summit of Mount
Lefroy, Mount Ball is a long, somewhat flat-topped
mountain covered with ice and snow. Perhaps,
however, on the southern side it may be more
precipitous and rocky. In the Assiniboine group
there seems only one important mountain, Mount
Assiniboine itself. But what is wanting in quantity

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 145

found here than in any of the other groups of
mountains. Mounts Temple, Lefroy, Victoria,
Stephen, Cathedral, Vaux, and the Chancellor have
all been ascended, but Goodsir, Hungabee, and
Deltaform, all of them first-class peaks, yet wait for
the first party to set foot on their summits. Besides
the numerous good mountain climbs that can be
found in this district, many most charming lakes
and pine-clad valleys lie hidden away in the narrow
valleys. It would be hard to find in any mountain-
land a more perfect picture than that afforded by
Lake Louise, a clear, deep lake, surrounded by pine
woods and snow-clad peaks whose reflection in the
water seems almost more natural than the reality
in the distance. The O'Hara lakes and Paradise
valley also possess the wild grandeur and rich
fertility that is one of the chief attractions of the
Rocky Mountains of Canada.

in; CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

is certainly atoned for by the excessive grandeur
and beauty of Mount Assiniboine. For long called
the Canadian Matterhorn (11,830 feet), it towers a
head and shoulders above its fellows, the highest
peak south of the line. For several years it with-
stood many determined attempts made to scale its
sharp, pyramid-shaped summit ; but in August of
1901 the Rev. J. Outram, with two Swiss guides,
was fortunate enough at last to conquer this diffi-
cult mountain.

The chief feature of the Balfour group is the
great expanse of upper snow-fields on the Wapta
neve. The highest peak, Mount Balfour, 10,873
feet, was ascended in 1898 by Messrs. Charles
S. Thompson, C. L. Noyes, and C. M. Weed.
Once on this central reservoir of ice none of the
peaks are difficult to climb. The Bow river, which
has its source at the north-eastern corner of this
Wapta snow-field, flows down the Bow valley, which
skirts for more than twenty-five miles the eastern
slopes of the Balfour group. This Bow valley is
an excellent example of the numberless valleys
that are to be found amongst the Rocky moun-
tains, flat-bottomed and filled with pine woods and
marshes or muskegs. Two beautiful lakes, the
Upper and Lower Bow lakes, filled with trout,
give good sport to the fisherman ; but to fish

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 147

successfully a raft must be built, for there are no
boats as yet on the lakes. The Upper Bow lake is
particularly beautiful, for in many places on its
shores are great expanses of open grassland, covered
here and there with clumps of dwarf rhododendron
bushes, or, it may be, studded with thickets of pine
and other trees, whilst on the opposite shore the
mountains rise sheer for several thousand feet, and
more than one glacier hangs poised high up on the
cliffs, above the clear blue water beneath.

The next group further north, the Forbes group,
has not been visited as yet by many mountaineering
parties. But it contains possibly the highest peak
in the Canadian Rocky Mountains, Mount Forbes,
which is certainly considerably over 13,000 feet,
and may be as much as 14,000 feet high. The
Bush peak and Mount Freshfield also must be
about 12,500 to 13,000 feet, and Mount Lyell is
not much less, perhaps 12,000 feet. Many ice-fields
lie underneath these high peaks : the Freshfield,
Bush, and Lyell snow-fields being the most im-
portant. In this group as yet none of the peaks
have been ascended, and up to the present only
on the Freshfield glacier has any one set foot.
This is largely due to the difficulty of getting
to the foot of the peaks and the time necessary
to expend on such an expedition. To get to the

Us CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

bottom of Mount Forbes from Laggan, the nearest
spot on the Canadian-Pacific railway, would take
about nine days, and, should the Saskatchewan
be in full flood, it might take four or five days
more.

The Columbia group, which is still further north,
was only discovered in 1898 by Messrs. Stutfield,
Woolley, and myself. It is by far the biggest
accumulation of glaciers that we have yet seen,
covering an area of at least one hundred square
miles ; moreover, from a geographical point of view,
it claims additional interest, for it is the source
of the two great rivers, the Athabasca, the Sas-
katchewan, and formerly probably of the Columbia
as well. The mountains also that rise out of these
untrodden snow-fields are amongst the highest
peaks in the Canadian Rocky Mountains, with the
one exception of Mount Forbes. At present it
is impossible to say with certainty whether Mount
Columbia or Mount Forbes is the higher. Person-
ally I should like to give the preference to Mount
Columbia. Another peak situated near the centre
of this group, the Dome, 11,G50 feet, on whose
summit we stood in 1898, is the only mountain in
North America the snows of which when melted
feed rivers that flow into the three oceans — the
Atlantic, the Arctic, and the Pacific. North of

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 149

Mount Columbia another peak was discovered,
Mount Alberta, over 13,000 feet. This mountain,
unlike Mount Columbia, is a rock-peak and flat-
topped. Its summit is ringed round with tre-
mendous precipices, and its north-western face
must be particularly grand, for it rises straight
from the valley of the Athabasca for nearly 8000
feet.

The outlets from the great Columbian ice-field
are very numerous ; and many large glaciers flow
into the valleys to feed the head waters of the
Saskatchewan, the Athabasca, and the tributaries
of the Columbia.

Of the mountains in the next group further
north practically nothing is known. Only three
parties in modern times have even penetrated into
the valleys of this land south of the Athabasca
pass — Professor Coleman (1893), during his search
for MouDts Hooker and Brown; and Wilcox (1896)
and E. Habel (1901). It is improbable that there
are any peaks as high as 13,000 feet, but many
covered with ice, snow, and glaciers were seen
from the summits of the Dome and Diadem peak
in 1898, when we were on the Columbian ice-fields.
That this mountain-land remains unexplored is not
to be wondered at, for the country is so far away,
and so difficult to get at, from any human habitation

160 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

that it takes weeks of hard work battling with
the rivers and forests before even the valleys are
reached which lie at the bottom of these ranges
of snow- and glacier-covered mountains.

When one has got accustomed to it, however,
travelling in these vast mountain solitudes becomes
by no means either irksome or unpleasant. But
before one is capable of understanding all the
woodcraft and knowledge requisite for successfully
guiding a party through the endless forested
valleys, the apparent monotony is apt to weary the
traveller ; afterwards, however, when a thousand
and one things in the woods or on the mountain-
side are for the first time seen and understood, then
the environment no longer dominates one. For in-
stance, a peculiar notch or ' blaze ' on an occasional
tree means that some prospector or Indian has
been there before, or perhaps a newly overturned
stone amongst the moss tells how a bear has
recently been searching for food ; or, again, some
half-obliterated mark by the side of a stream
means cariboo, or, if higher up, goat or the wild
sheep. Then, often by the kind of tree one can
roughly guess how high one is, for certain poplars,
for instance the balsam poplar, I have never seen
higher than 5000 feet.

Of course amongst the Canadian Rockies it is

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 151

necessary on every expedition to take men and
horses. The men are to look after the horses and
the camp, and to cut the trail. The horses carry
the food or ' grub-pile,' the tents, etc.

At first one is quite unaccustomed to the leisurely
method of progression, and quite unacquainted with
many mysterious things that afterwards appear
obvious. Now that I look back on my first day
with ponies in the Rockies I blush for my in-
competence and ignorance.

To begin with, we were late in starting — our
men, with most of the ponies and heavy baggage,
had gone up the Bow valley, leaving us three ponies
for the remainder of the luggage. At the very
start, if it had not been for the help of an obliging
man at Laggan railway station, I do not think
we should ever have satisfactorily tied on all the
odd packages. To pack an Indian pony, and finish
all off neatly with a good tight diamond hitch,
is an accomplishment not possessed by every one.
After three summers' experience I really now can
tie it : at least I know I could, but it is a wonderful
hitch ; and although you think that you have got
it all right, when you begin to pull the rope tight,
somehow it all comes undone and one must start
again from the beginning.

The ponies having been packed, we started, but

152 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

soon lost our way amongst the most dreadful
tangle of fallen timber ; the men had ' blazed '
the way, but we were new at the work, and so
soon got out of the trail. After getting the ponies
with great difficulty through some miles of this
timber, we gradually worked ourselves free, getting
into more open ground, but it was out of Scylla
into Charybdis, for now it was a question of how
to get through endless swamps or muskegs that
filled up the floor of the valley. Here the blazes
of course stopped, and soon we missed the tracks
of the other horses and got hopelessly lost, flounder-
ing about in every direction trying to find a way
through.

Several times the luckless ponies, dead tired and
overladen, had sunk up to their bellies, but with
terrified snorts and plunges had just managed to
get out again. At last the sun went down, then
daylight disappeared, and finally the moon came
out, and we were still in that swamp. Ultimately
we tried to make for the forest at the side of the
valley, but one of the horses got so deep into a
hole that only with difficulty we managed to
prevent him vanishing altogether. He was at
last rescued with an Alpine rope ; and we also
were rescued from a night out in a swamp by our
headman, Peyto, who had come down the valley

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 153

to look for us. The horses had to be left for the
night, but we, wading through everything, got
safely into camp at about midnight. These Indian
ponies are wonderfully clever in thick timber or
in the streams and rivers that have every now and
then to be crossed.

One old grey that I rode for two different trips
was a most wise old animal, rather stiff in the
knees, but wonderfully sure-footed, and never once
did he even brush my leg against a tree trunk
even in the thickest timber. He was also a
very gentlemanly old animal, never frightened
(unless he got into a muskeg), never in a hurry,
very fond of going to sleep, also of having
his own way, and his way was usually the right
one.

To those who wish to spend all their time,
during a short holiday, climbing peaks, the
Canadian Rocky Mountains cannot be recommended
without some explanation. Firstly, they are a
very long way off; and secondly, many of the
finest groups, lying, as they do, perhaps fifty or
a hundred miles from the railway, necessitate
days of travel with ponies, provisions, etc., before
even their base is reached. Still undoubtedly
the pleasure of the leisurely advance through
the charming valleys and dense pinewoods is to

II CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

'['hose who love the haunts of Nature,
Love the shadow of the forest,
Love the winds among the branches,
And the rain-shower and the snowstorm,
And the rushing of great rivers '

of quite an equal importance to the joys of a
first ascent.

The absolutely free life that one experiences in
camp never palls, let the weather be good or bad ;
as one jumps out of one's sleeping-bag into the
fresh morning air, one is always ready for the
day's work.

Perhaps it is a glorious morning. The men
have gone off to find the ponies, which, if they
have strayed far afield during the night, can be
found by listening for the tinkle of the bell
always tied to the neck of the bell-mare. Then
after a breakfast of porridge, bacon, and whatever
else there may be, the horses are packed — an
operation which is hard work, and takes perhaps
the best part of two hours when there are over
a dozen horses to load. Each pack has to be
finally tied on with the diamond hitch, other-
wise in a very short time the pack would work
loose, and, if once lost bit by bit in the dense
undergrowth of the forest, would never be re-
covered.

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 155

Then comes the start, and the cavalcade files
off into the virgin forest, led by the headman,
whose business it is to pick out a trail amidst
the dense undergrowth and the fallen trees along
which the pack train can go. Soon the sound of
the axe is heard, and the single file of ponies
comes to a standstill whilst some fallen tree
which bars the way is cut through. Sometimes
the path leads along the bank of a swiftly flowing,
muddy white river, swollen by the melting snows
of the glaciers, which every now and then are seen
through more open parts of the forest, glaciers that
glimmer and shine high up amongst the peaks
that wall in the valley below. It is in places
such as this that the greatest danger to the horses
and baggage is experienced. The banks of the river
may be rotten, or a horse more self-willed than
the others may suddenly plunge into the water,
and often it is next to impossible to prevent others
following ; so that in one moment of time perhaps
half the outfit may be sweeping down stream to
perdition, and the expedition ruined by being left
provisionless. Fortunately, although I have often
seen our horses helplessly drifting down rivers that
at first sight seemed hopeless to get out of, owing
to the undercut banks, depth of water, and
strength of current, yet somehow or other these

156 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

plucky little ponies always have managed to
Bcramble out again.

The silent forests, through which one some-
timea has to march for days together, are not so
dense, and the trees are not so large on the eastern
side of the Divide as on the western, that is
to say, in the valleys leading to the Columbia
river.

In the valley of the Columbia itself, down which
we travelled in 1900 from Donald to the Bush
river, for several days we hardly saw the sky.
The vast forest far surpassed in size anything
we had seen on the other side of the range — huge
pines, cotton-wood trees, firs, and spruces reaching
to a height of 150 feet or more. The undergrowth
too was very dense — cedar, white maple, and alder
(near the streams), were found ; whilst the fallen
trunks of dead trees, sometimes six or eight feet
in diameter, lay scattered with others of lesser size
in every kind of position. Some in their fall had
been arrested by others, and were waiting for the
first gale to bring them crashing to the ground ;
whilst at the will of every breeze that wandered
through the upper branches of the higher trees,
these half- fallen monarchs of the forest would break
the heavy stillness of the air by their complaints
and groans against their more sturdy brethren for

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 157

thus preventing them lying at peace upon the
moss-covered ground below. Others that had lain
perhaps scores of years in the wet underbush had
decayed and rotted, leaving rich masses of decom-
posing vegetation, from which trees had sprung
that in their turn also must fall and suffer the
same change. There is a marvellous fascination
about these quiet shady fastnesses of the western
valleys. As one wanders day after day through
this underworld, cut off from the glaring sun of
noonday and the blue sky, hardly a sound breaks
the stillness, whilst all around the ruin of ancient
woods lies piled with a lavishness most absolute —
that of Nature's self, the tangled wreck of a
lifetime, the luxuriant growth of centuries.

It is in these western valleys that the rainfall is
far greater than on the other side of the range,
hence the forests are thicker and the muskegs and
streams more dangerous. Only in the western
valleys also is found that pest of British Columbia
forests, the Devil's Club — a plant with large,
broad leaves and a stem covered with spikes.
Amongst the moist undergrowth it grows to a
height of from five to six feet, trailing its stems in
every direction and emitting a dank, unwholesome
smell. Woe betide any one who with bare hand
should roughly seize one of those stems, for the

158 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

Bpikes enter the ilesh, and, breaking off, produce
poisoned wounds which fester. But whilst cutting
brail it La impossible to prevent the long, twisted
roots flying up occasionally, leaving their detest-
able thorns in all parts of one's body.

Sometimes instead of these virgin forests the
trail — and this is especially true when one is
near a pass at G000 feet or 7000 feet — passes
along wide expanses of meadow, with small
rhododendron bushes and clumps of pines every
here and there. Masses of flowers can be seen
in every direction, many kinds of anemone, large
yellow daisies, and many others. Near the water-
shed of a pass beautiful lakes of pure blue water
are often found, and in a quiet summer afternoon
the long slanting shadows and the reflection of
pines, peaks, and glaciers lie still in the clear
water. The contrast of colours often is almost
dazzling. One instance in particular I shall never
forget : it was in a valley thirty miles north of the
line called Bear Creek, near two lakes where some
years before a fire had burnt out several square
miles of forest. The gaunt, shining black stems of
the trees formed a curious but fitting background
— shining like black satin — for the mass of brilliant
golden yellow daisies that were in full bloom
amongst the stones at their feet. There was no

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 159

green of grass, in fact no other colour except that of
the sky. This blaze of golden orange against satin
black tree trunks, with a sapphire sky beyond, formed
a contrast of colours but rarely seen in a landscape.
These burnt forests are one of the worst obstacles
for delaying a party with horses. For a few years
the ground is cleared excellently ; but soon an
undergrowth of pines springs up, then for many
years the burnt dead trunks, which never seem
to rot after having been charred by the fire, and
the new thick undergrowth, make often a mile a
day with a pack team good work. Often even
without burnt timber to delay one, the progression
up an unknown valley is very tedious. In 1900,
whilst exploring the Bush valley on the western
side of the mountains, our first view of the valley
held out hopes to us that we should soon get to
the head waters and the snow peaks fifteen miles
away. Stretched out at our feet, as we looked
down from a neighbouring hill, lay the valley,
wide and level. There were no canyons or defiles
that might necessitate lengthy detours up precipi-
tous hillsides. The valley was open and flat.
It is true we saw some muskegs at the sides,
but along the level bottom stretched shingle
flats, with streams all tangled together, looking
like a skein of ravelled grey wool thrown down

100 CANADIAN ROCKY Mol'NTAINS

between the dull green hills, whilst the main river,
winding first toward one hillside and then towards
the other, sometimes branching, again reuniting,
formed a veritable puzzle of interlacing channels,
islands of pebbles, stretches of swamps, and small
lakes all hopelessly intermingled. The first ten
miles up that valley took us ten days' incessant
work. Our way was alternately through immense
timber, dense thickets of willows, through swamps,
streams, small lakes, along insecure river banks,
climbing up the hillsides, jumping logs, cutting
through fallen trees and undergrowth so thick one
could hardly see a yard ahead, splashing, fighting,
and worrying ahead ; we had an experience of
almost everything that could delay us, and whether
the woods, the streams, or the muskegs were worst,
it was impossible to say.

So the days go by, and often real mountaineering
is a luxury which has to be left till the last. But
we were the pioneers; now the trails are partly
made, and the way to get at the peaks is known,
therefore the expenditure of time in arriving at any
particular spot can be calculated with much greater
certainty. But with this gain in time-saving
comes also the lost pleasure of the uncertainty
of an unknown land ; now the country is being
mapped and all the peaks are being named.

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 161

However, it will be many a long year before
much real change can be made in the valleys that
lie thirty or more miles from the line ; also the
snow peaks, the marvellously clear atmosphere, the
woods, lakes, and scenery will remain the same.
After a long day through these valleys of the
Canadian Rocky Mountains one will be just as able
to pitch one's tent and enjoy over the camp fire the
stories of the hour, to eat one's dinner with the
mountaineer's appetite, to smoke by the light of
the smouldering logs, and to go to sleep safely,
surrounded by these mysterious and dark forests.

I always think that the supreme moments of a
mountaineer's existence are, more often, not whilst
battling with the great mountains, but afterwards,
when the struggle is done and the whole story is
gone over again quietly by a camp fire. Violent
action no doubt appeals to many people, but the de-
lightful sense of content that wraps one round after
a long and successful day on the mountains, after
the victory has been won, is a very pleasant sen-
sation. One such evening I remember in the Bush
valley when no victory had crowned our efforts.
We were returning, in fact, from an attempt to
reach Mount Columbia which had proved an un-
doubted failure ; still somehow I felt that although
beaten, we had been honourably beaten, we had

L62 CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS

struggled hard, but two tilings had failed us — time
and pro visions — and we were retracing our steps
towards civilisation. The camp that evening had
been pitched on the banks of the Bush river. In
the foreground, water and shingle stretched in
desolate fashion westward to where ridges of dark
pine woods sloped down from dusky peaks above,
sending out point after point to strengthen the
forms of the middle distance ; whilst beyond, far
away across the Columbia, the Selkirk mountains
raised their snow peaks into the calm, clear sky, a
mysterious land unexplored and unknown. Through
a rift in the clouds in the far west shone the setting
sun, tinging the dull grey clouds overhead and the
stealthily flowing river below with its many-
coloured fires. A faint evening breeze softly moved
the upper foliage, a couple of inquisitive chipmunks
were chattering near at hand, and a small stream
could be heard whispering amongst the thickets
near the banks of the river.

The great gnarled trunks of pine and fir,
festooned with moss, fungi, and grey lichen, the
dead, drooping branches, and the half fallen, decay-
ing trunks propped up in dreary, melancholy array,
caught for a moment the sunset's ruddy glow,
whilst the mysterious shadows of the dense forest
darkened by contrast. It was one of those evenings

CANADIAN ROCKY MOUNTAINS 163

' When, upon a tranced summer night,
Those green robed senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch charmed to the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir,
Save from one gradual solitary gust,
Which comes upon the silence, and dies off,
As if the ebbing air had but one wave.'

Such evenings compensate one for many a wet,
dreary day spent amongst the mountains. Nature
suddenly offers them to the traveller without any
toil on his part. He has only to sit watching,
surrounded by the dark forest, the stretch of
waters, and the ever-changing glory of the setting
sun ; then, unmindful of the worry of yesterday,
or the uncertainties of to-morrow, amidst the great
stillness, he feels with absolute conviction one thing
and one thing only — that it is good to be alive and
free. Civilised life no doubt teaches us much, but
when one has once tasted the freedom of the wilds,
a different knowledge comes. The battling with
storm, rain, cold, and sometimes hunger, and the
doubt of what any day may bring forth, these at '
least teach that life — that mere existence — is
beyond all price.

THE ALPS

'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth,
while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when
thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.' — Ecclesiastes.

Many years ago I remember quoting once some
paragraphs which seemed at the time to portray
so exactly the attitude of certain people towards
the Alps, that they were instantly plucked from
their seclusion, for the purpose of enforcing some
rather flippant and idle remarks of my own.
These flippant efforts of mine, I may add, were
not intended to be taken seriously. The para-
graphs, however, were written in 1868, and can
be found in the Alpine Journal. 1 I now pre-
sume to use them once more. ' So far as the
Alps are concerned, we can now, I fear, expect
nothing free altogether from the taint of stale -
ness. For us the familiar hunting grounds exist
no longer as they once existed.' Again : ' Those
waters of oblivion which have overwhelmed the

1 Vol. iv. p. 185.

165

160 THE ALPS

Jungfraus and Finsteraarhorns of our youth.'
And, 'It only remains for us to dally awhile
with the best recollections of the now degraded
mountains.'

As I have said, when I first quoted these sen-
tences I did not believe one word of them. It is
true that then I was younger and more enthusiastic ;
moreover, the Alps were new to me, and I was still
able to appreciate to the full the beauties of that
region of streams, glaciers, and snow peaks : then
the sun still shone, then the morning and the
evening, arrayed in their coat of many colours, called
either to action or bid a cheerful good-night, and even
then the fleeting clouds, flung abroad like 'banners
on the outer wall,' would often make me stop and
watch, till the mists dissolved into thin air left the
high battlements of the mighty mountains once
more clear against the blue sky. Yes ! although
I quoted these paragraphs, yet at that period, to
me it was impious to question the sway of the
monarchs of the earth. Degraded mountains, taint
of staleness, waters of oblivion, Jungfraus over-
whelmed, a truly depressing picture ! but when one
comes to examine into the real truth of the matter,
the fact remains that the mountains are still there,
and really after all in much the same condition as
they were fifty years ago. Of course one must

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sr/v/jjr /■// . ///'///■ yy //////

THE ALPS 167

admit that many parts of Switzerland below the
snow line and some infinitesimal bits higher up
possibly have been degraded, but not by a natural
process. This degradation is the work of the
animal, Man ; and it is difficult to say why
he alone of all the inhabitants of this world,
wherever he sets himself down, should always
besmirch and befoul the face of Nature. Some
literary and inquiring spirit should write a mono-
graph on the subject.

What sight is more depressing than the gaunt,
soot-begrimed trees that struggle for a pitiful
existence around our centres of so-called civilisa-
tion ? Where can a more squalid picture be either
seen or imagined than a back slum in one of our
manufacturing towns where the teeming millions
are born, bred, and die ? The inhabitants of a
London back street never see this earth as Nature
made it, beyond perhaps occasionally a green field.
They know nothing of the great face of the world.
What do mountains, streams, pinewoods, and lakes
ruffled by the wind, mean to them ? they only have
seen the lower Thames and its mud banks. Ex-
panses of heather moorland where the birds, the
breezes, and the many summer scents wander to
and fro : probably their nearest approach to these is
Hampstead heath and oranges ! The nations of the

168 THE ALPS

Easi <mii teach Western civilisation several things,
and the people of the Staffordshire Black Country
would not lose were they to copy some of the
methods of living in Japan.

Now the worst of all this is that as the nations
expand and communication becomes easier, the
several, as yet unspoilt, corners of the world, where
man has not yet ' forked out ' Nature, are in grave
danger of being swept bodily into civilisation's net.
Unfortunately the majority of mankind is hopelessly
lacking in imagination, they are incapable of
accommodating themselves to their environment,
trying always instead to force their surroundings
to fit their own small ideas.

Brighton becomes more civilised in direct ratio
as it becomes more like London; and Switzerland —
that is to say, where many unimaginative tourists
go, and nowadays they go to most places from
Lucerne to the tops of the highest mountains — is
thus degraded. It becomes a herding place during
August for the nations, each brings his own special
atmosphere, his family, his newspaper, and himself.
The money pours in, the state becomes civilised,
and the hotels flourish. If Zermatt possessed first-
class beer halls, a golf course, and plenty of motor
cars, a very large number of the German, English,
and French tourists would gladly amuse themselves

THE ALPS 169

each with his particular native pastime, and would
never bother themselves about whether Monte Rosa
was covered with ice and snow, or was merely a
mud heap, or whether glaciers, Matterhorns, Dent
Blanches were or were not.

It would be foolish to deny that the interest of
mankind in man must necessarily be stronger than
the mere abstract pleasure obtained from the con-
templation of wild and beautiful scenery. So it
follows that when a vast concourse gathers, such as
is seen during the season at Zermatt, mankind
naturally dominates the environment, and the study
of man, not of scenery, prevails. This must be so.
Take, for instance, any of our best novelists : of
course they deal with people, not things. When
Clive Newcome and J. J. (artists too, if you please)
crossed the Alps, does Thackeray give us a long-
account of the scenery ? Certainly not : the whole
matter is disposed of at once, and in a sentence they
are whisked from Baden to Rome. On the other
hand, the descriptions of the beauties of Nature by
Sir Walter Scott or by Wordsworth, who reads
them now except with an occasional yawn ? Far
more interesting, and properly so too, are narratives
of real, live people, their thoughts, their hopes, their
disappointments. Soldiers Three appeals to every
one ; but should one begin to talk about the merits

170 THE ALPS

of Claude and Turner as painters of hills, and even
quote some of Ruskin's very finest passages about
Alps and Archangels, your neighbour at table
d'hdte will either think that you are a great bore,
or, perhaps, an extremely clever person ; but will
be far more interested, when the old lady opposite
begins to tell how Mr. Jones was caught that very
afternoon proposing to Miss Robinson, and how the
Bishop of X. is really coming to stop at the hotel
for a few days. All this is meant to show
that by far the greater number of the hordes that
invade Switzerland every year does not in reality
take any interest at all, or at best a very feeble
one, in the only really national dish that Switzer-
land has to offer. They neither care for it, nor do
they understand it.

Naturally, therefore, the majority with their out-
side influence, with their own objects, ends, and
atmosphere, entirely swamps the small remainder
who appreciate the natural beauties of the land,
and who fifty years ago practically held undivided
possession. In those days the tourists, and they
were few in the land, did not in the least mind
suffering certain minor hardships owing to the
absence of hotels : it was nothing compared with
the pleasure that they obtained from the free life
and the scenery ; also, should they be mountaineers

THE ALPS 171

and scale some of the till then unvisited summits,
on their descent into the valleys they were looked
upon with wonder by the simple village folk and
the herders of cattle of the small hamlets ;
these inhabitants would crowd round, when with
arm extended and finger pointing to the distant
peak of snow they described how yesterday, at
such a time, they and their friend the chamois
hunter of the district were on its summit. This
sort of thing has most certainly gone, gone
for ever. In this respect the Alps are as dead
as Queen Anne — they have been overwhelmed
in the waters of oblivion. The self-sufficient
modern traveller now holds undivided sway in
the chief central places of the Alps ; and were
it possible for him to impress his puny in-
dividuality on the great crags and the snow-fields
of the mountains, to interfere with the colours of
the sunset or the dawn, or to compel the clouds,
then perhaps we might agree with the bitter cry of
Ruskin, who, speaking of the artistic creative fac-
ulty of the present day, says that we ' live in an age
of base conceit and baser servility — an age whose
intellect is chiefly formed by pillage, and occupied
in desecration ; one day mimicking, the next
destroying, the works of all noble persons who
made its intellectual or art life possible to it : an

172 THE ALPS

age without honest confidence enough in itself to
carve a cherry-stone with an original fancy, but
with insolence enough to abolish the solar system,
if it were allowed to meddle with it.'

Fortunately they cannot meddle with the moun-
tains and the snow-fields. Still, as in those bygone
days, man there is a mere speck. The peaks are as
high and the snows as deep. Above, the glories
of the sunset and the sunrise are the same, amidst
the ice, the snow, and the black rocks ; there the
taint, and the adverse influence of this invasion of
civilisation, is unfelt, although it may have over-
whelmed the valleys below. The Jungfrau and
the Finsteraarhorn still are as untouched and
unspoiled, as far from vulgarisation as in the days
when they were first conquered.

It is only when we descend from the mountains,
and at the huts once more enter into contact with
this other world, that the change begins to be felt,
or when we have returned to our hotel, donned
our dress clothes, and are seated before a bad
imitation of a dinner, that we finally recognise that
the waters of the great modern sea of vulgarity
and mediocrity have engulfed us.

Forty years ago Switzerland, or at least the
finest part of Switzerland, belonged to the tourist
or traveller, call him which you will, who really

THE ALPS 173

cared for the healthy, out-of-door existence and the
scenery ; and to the mountaineer, who, as a rule,
appreciated both the natural grandeur of the Alps,
and at the same time the pleasure of spending his
holidays high up amidst the ice and snow. At
that time we find in the Alpine Journal (a record
of mountain adventure) endless papers on the
climbing and the exploration of the Alps. But
if we examine the pages of the Alpine Journal
of to-day, a distinct scarcity of papers on the Alps
is at once apparent. In the year 1900, out of
fourteen articles only five dealt with the Alps, for
there nowadays exploration and new climbs are
almost impossible. Moreover, records of mere
mountain adventure without any description of an
ascent of some unconquered peak have become too
common. Therefore it is not remarkable that the
mountaineer is driven further afield, preferring
to win laurels amidst new ranges. But still the
Alps are both broad and wide, and after all
it is only along certain lines that the great
civilised mob disports itself. It is true that all
the mountains have been ascended, but surely
that only destroys a minor attraction ; moreover,
fortunately almost anywhere on the Italian side
of the watershed one is free from that lamentable
state of affairs that obtains at such places as

171. THE ALPS

Chamonix, Grindelwald, and Zermatt; and should
the mountaineer possess a tent and a sleeping-
bag he can always camp out, thus being entirely
free. There are places on the south side of Mont
Blanc, in the Rutor or in the Grand Paradiso district,
in the Valpelline, and in many others, where delight-
ful camps can be made and where one would hardly
ever see a stranger for weeks together. There the
mountaineer can live practically undisturbed in his
own hunting ground of peaks, passes, and glaciers.

Amongst the most pleasant recollections I have
of the Alps are those connected with our camps.
We always had sleeping-bags, and I may say
that during all the years I spent climbing with
Mummery only twice have I slept in a hut with
him.

There are few more pleasurable sensations than
to be comfortable and warm under the lee of some
great boulder, watching the stars as they slowly
move westward ; or to sit by a camp fire after the
sun has set, and to recall all the enjoyment of the
climb just finished; a feeling of most profound
contentment with everything in the world steals
over the party ; the conversation becomes more
and more disjointed as first one and then another
turns over and sleeps.

When I look back and think of all the various

THE ALPS 175

places where Mummery, Hastings, Slingsby, and I
have slept out in the open, far away from the
haunts of men, and remember how we enjoyed
ourselves, I for one would go back year after year
to the Alps if those times could be brought back
again. In those days the glass of time, when
shaken, ran in golden sands. Now all that is left
of them is the memory.

It was in those days long ago, that I remember,
how on one perfect evening at the beginning of
August, we camped high up by the side of the Brenva
glacier, having been well prepared for struggling
with the tremendous southern face of Mont Blanc
by the delightful dinners of M. Bertolini. The
sun went down behind the Peteret ridge — a ridge
which always seems to me to be unsurpassed in
the Alps — and we hoped that in another twenty-
four hours we should be on the other side of the
great mountain. But one of the great charms of
mountaineering is its uncertainty, and instead of
twenty-four it was forty-eight hours before we
arrived at the Grands-Mulets. It would be dis-
tinctly perverting the truth to say that, at the
time, we enjoyed the whole of our expedition, but
often have I during winter evenings recalled
that climb. I cannot now reproduce the un-
pleasant sensations, but the satisfaction and

176 THE ALPS

recollection of success becomes more pleasing
as lapse of years adds enchantment to the
memory of that fierce battle with Mont Blanc.
1 shall never forget how, hour after hour, Mum-
mery, following a wrong direction of E. Rey's
(who, as it turned out afterwards, had never been
up Mont Blanc by this Brenva route), persistently
kept towards the left ; how at last the hard blue
ice became so steep that it was almost impossible
to cut steps in it ; and how the ice also had a
sticky feel when touched with the fingers, for
we were in the shadow of the mountain.

Unfortunately we were 1500 feet from the
summit ; and as the daylight was only good for a few
more hours, we had reluctantly to turn and make
our way down that icy staircase. At one place
where Hastings had thrown a portion of his break-
fast into a small crevasse, we carefully recovered
the discarded provisions, coming at last, just before
darkness enveloped everything, to a small rock
jutting out of that almost vertical face. The
Brenva glacier was thousands of feet below us.
One of the penalties of guideless climbing is that
when prolonged step-cutting has to be undertaken,
no amateur can compete with a first-class guide.
Naturally, therefore, nights out on the mountains
are often the price paid. Our penance on this

THE ALPS 177

particular expedition was to sit on that rock all
night. The cold was intense, and it was not
till the sun had risen next day that we were
capable of moving. Once started, the blood began
again to circulate, and keeping this time more to
the right, a passage was forced with very great
difficulty indeed through the almost overhanging
edge of the great snow cap of Mont Blanc. In
more than one place we had to use the axes forced
home to their heads as a staircase for the first
man. It was a magnificent climb, in fact the finest
I have ever had. That ice world on the south
side of Mont Blanc is on a larger scale than any-
thing I know of outside the Himalaya. On the
afternoon of the third day but from Courmayeur I
arrived on the summit by crawling up on my hands
and knees. But although the ascent had taken so
long, the descent was accomplished much more
expeditiously. In two hours we reached the Grands-
Mulets. There, being supplied with omelette after
omelette, I basely refused to roam any further ; but
Hastings and Mummery, unsatisfied, rushed down
the remainder of the mountain, to lose themselves
in the pine woods below in the darkness, reaching
Couttet's and luxury late that night. If I was to
recount all the splendid expeditions that we were
taken by Mummery — how we sometimes failed, but

178 THE ALPS

much more often succeeded — this chapter could be
made into a dozen ; and yet, in spite of all these
ascents, my knowledge of the Alps is extremely
limited.

Curiously, however, I have found that sometimes
those who most loudly complain of the Alps being
played out are quite unacquainted with, or at least
have never attempted, most of those ascents which
it was my good fortune to make with Mummery.
Certainly they were mostly made in the Mont
Blanc range, a part which does not seem to com-
mend itself so much to mountaineers of the present
day as the eastern portion of the Alps. Yet where
can be found anywhere else, in the whole range,
rock pinnacles that are finer than the Aiguille
Noire de Peteret. Few people know that its west
face is a sheer precipice of several thousand feet.
In 1899 I was camping for a couple of days with
Major Bruce and Harkabir Thapa, just opposite to
it on the ridge between the Brouillard and Fresnay
glaciers. It was then I watched a slab of rock fall

from about twenty feet below the summit. It was
a mass weighing perhaps fifty or a hundred tons.
For over 1000 feet it touched nothing, then
striking on a ledge it burst into a thousand
fragments with a noise like thunder, and hardly
one of the fragments touched rock again, but

THE ALPS 179

descended straight to the snows of the Fresnay
glacier beneath.

We were investigating the south-west corner of
Mont Blanc, intending if possible to make the
ascent by the continuation of the Brouillard ridge.
With this prospect in view, we ascended the
Brouillard glacier to near the top of the Aiguille
l'lnnominata, but went no further. The Brouillard
is a glacier that to try and descend on a hot summer
afternoon would be foolish, to say the least of it.
For, set at a very high angle, and broken up in the
wildest fashion, although presenting a magnificent
spectacle, it does not lend itself to safe mountain-
eering. Harkabir was much disappointed that
we refused to go on, for he thought he could see
his way up the rock escarpment at the head of the
glacier, and, were that possible, probably no
more difficulty would be met with from there to
the summit. But in spite of the climber of the
party being confident we could proceed, I as con-
ductor insisted on turning back, being only a ' mere
mountaineer.' One thing at least I was certain
of: Bertolini lived at Courmayeur, not Chamonix,
and forty-year old Barolo, together with countless
other delicacies, was to be obtained from him
alone. To return, however, from the excellences
of the cuisine at Bertolini's to those of the range

180 THE ALPS

of Mont Blanc, should the jaded climber of
' degraded ' mountains want more rock peaks, the
>nt of the lesser Dru, in my opinion, can be
repeated profitably. Not even amongst the Dolo-
mites can one get the sensation of dizzy height
and appalling depth to the same extent as on
this mountain ; moreover, there is a most sporting
though small glacier to cross before one begins the
rock ascent. Then the Charmoz and the Grepon
are not to be despised. For a most varied climb,
requiring every kind of mountain craft, the traverse
of the Aiguille du Plan is to be recommended, from
the Glacier des Pelerins over the summit, down
the Glacier du Plan, and back by the Glacier du
Geant. Again, without doubt, the finest snow and
ice climb in the Alps, surrounded the whole time
by superb scenery, is from the Montanvert to the
hut behind the Aiguille du Midi, thence over
Mont Blanc du Tacul and the Mont Maudit to
the summit of Mont Blanc, and down to the
Grands- Mulets. Of course, I know that to recom-
mend any one to climb Mont Blanc will certainly
be regarded as a bold suggestion by those who
have noticed a taint of staleness in the great
mountains. For of all the peaks that have been
overwhelmed by the waters of oblivion, surely
Mont Blanc outrivals both the Jungfraus and the

THE ALPS 181

Finsteraarhorns of the happy childhood of the Alps.
Personally, however, I am a staunch adherent of
the ' ancient monarch of the mountains.' But as
Leslie Stephen says, the ' coarse flattery of the
guide-books has done much to surround him with
vulgarising associations.' Surely, though, Mont
Blanc is far too magnificent, far too splendid to be
much affected by such associations, and as if to
shake them off every now and then, after he has
been patted on the back by those of every nation-
ality who swarm over his sides, he arises in his
anger, hangs out his danger signal above his sum-
mit, and sweeps his glaciers and snows clear of the
invading crowd. The Fohn wind and the angry
clouds envelop him, his snow-fields glare with a
ghastly dead white colour, and whirlwinds of
clouds, snow, and gloom descend. But the storm
passes, and once more he emerges clean and
glistening in all his beauty.

But at Chamonix the Fohn wind of vulgarity
seems to blow perpetually, enveloping always the
great mountain in pale and dim eclipse, and obscuring
the romance, the charm, and all honest appreciation
of the old monarch. Fortunately one can easily
run away, leaving this depressing atmosphere be-
hind, and can bask once more in the sunshine, and
camp amidst the unspoiled valleys near the snows.

L82 THE ALPS

Why there are not more mountaineers who take
small tents to the Alps is always to me a mystery.
For long ago most of the huts have become
abominations, whilst the free life that is afforded
by camp life adds a very great charm to mountain
expeditions. Having tried it so often in the Hima-
laya, in Skye, in Norway, in the Canadian Rocky
Mountains, and Switzerland, perhaps I may be
biassed, but even if I never again had a chance of
climbing a first-class peak in the Alps, I would
return there to live the lazy, delightful, disreput-
able life in a tent, near the ice and the snows and
the pine woods, to smell the camp fire, lie on my
back all day amidst the grass and the flowers,
listening to the wind, and looking at the sky and
the great silent peaks. On the other hand, the
idea of spending a month at Swiss hotels, arising
in the darkness to wander forth in a bad temper,
chilled to the bone, in order merely to finish
off the remaining peaks of some district, so
that I might say I had been up them all, and
therefore never be bothered to return again —
rather than perpetrate such a hideous waste of
time I would go to some secluded spot on the
western coast of these islands where the waves
were for ever rolling in with that long, lazy, mono-
tonous sweep that is only seen on the shores of
the Atlantic, and there I would lie day after day

THE ALPS 183

on ray back on the sands watching the ever-chang-
ing colours of the sea,

These things, however, can be done in their
proper season, but until there are restaurants all
over Mont Blanc, and railways up most of the
peaks, illuminations of the Matterhorn every night
by means of electricity and coloured fires, and all
the avalanches are timed to be let loose only twice
a day, namely at a morning and an afternoon perfor-
mance — until that time arrives mountaineering in
the Alps will still be worth while indulging in occa-
sionally. Till then there will be plenty of space
for the enthusiast who likes to wander amidst the
snow- and ice-covered mountains. The ledges of
rock high up, with the grey lichen on them, will still
afford a resting-place from which the long glaciers
far down below can be seen as they descend to the
green-hued woods and the hazy valleys filled with
sunshine. The overhanging cornices high above,
for ever on the point of breaking off, will still
hang poised in unstable equilibrium. The storms
will sweep as frequently as of old across that
mountain land, hiding for a brief space all in gloom ;
the lightning flashes, the roar of the thunder, the
driving snow, and the keen biting wind will hunt
the too presumptuous climber back to lower alti-
tudes, as they have done often before ; and after-
wards the sun will again shine, dissolving the

184 THE ALPS

clouds, drying the lower slopes, and showing how
the old mountains have once more put on a clean
garment, which in magnificence, in glittering
splendour, is as unmatched or unequalled as the
deep, glowing colour of that ' solitary handmaid of
eternity,' the open ocean, or the glories of the
heavens at dawn or at sunset. Those who have
learned to understand the language of the hills
can appreciate the many-voiced calls of the moun-
tains, and, I am sure, are not in the least afraid
that, for the present, the Alps will be wholly
ruined or degraded. For my own part, they will
always possess an attraction which I care neither
to analyse nor to destroy. I shall go back there
just as the swallow at the end of summer goes
south ; and if by an unfortunate combination of
circumstances anything should happen to prevent
me ever returning from that world of snow, my ghost,
could it walk, would then at any rate be surrounded
by nothing common nor unclean, which might per-
haps not be so should it be compelled to wander
amongst the tombstones of a London cemetery.

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

' Near the outer lands of the silent mist,

The waves moan wearilie ;

Yet hidden there lie the Isles of the Blest,

The lonely Isles of the Sea.'

Olav's Quest.

Many years ago I remember the first time I read
that marvellous description of the Maelstrom by
Edgar Allan Poe, where he tells how a fisherman
from the Lofoten Islands, driven by a hurricane,
was caught in the Maelstrom's grip, and descended
' into the mouth of that terrific funnel, whose in-
terior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a
smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, speed-
ing dizzily round and round with a swaying and
sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds
an appalling voice — half-shriek, half-roar — such as
not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts
up in its agony to Heaven ' ; and I remember how
I used to picture to myself precipitous, polished
cliffs of terrific height and grandeur encircling a
writhing pool of dusky waters ; above, the rocks
glowing red and golden in the light of a stormy
sunset ; below, stray flakes of foam ever and again

IMG THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

iiing back the fiery glories of the angry sky,
as they glided with a stealthy, increasing haste
for ever nearer and nearer and yet nearer to the
awful abyss of the devouring whirlpool. This,
like so many tales of one's youth, although told
by that consummate artist Poe, must be relegated
to the realms of fiction.

But his description of one of the Lofoten Islands
— of the ' sheer, unobstructed precipices of black,
shining rock,' against which the ocean surf howled
and shrieked, and of the endless array of gloomy
mountains, ' outstretched like ramparts of the
world, hideously craggy and barren ' — is far nearer
the truth ; for in it is much that is characteristic
of the outer islands. But after all he has only
portrayed the Lofoten Islands when enveloped in
storm. Of course, when the south-west gales sweep
on to the rock-bound coast of Rost and Moskeneso,
even Poe himself could hardly do justice to the
scene, for the battle between the great waves
coming in from the open ocean and the tremendous
tides that surge past the outer islands must be
magnificent. Truly the picture would have to be of

' An iron coast and angry waves,
You seemed to hear them rise and fall
And roar rock-thwarted under bellowing caves,

Beneath the windy wall.'

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 187

But these mere rude phases of Nature's moods
do not for ever encircle Lofoten in flying surf and
with winds that shriek and howl. In the summer
months, at least, the sun shines, and often one may
look in vain over the untroubled water, rippled by
the warm west wind, for the dreaded Maelstrom,
whose thunderous voice and angry whirlpool for
the moment is stilled ; whilst in its stead a gentle
murmur rises from the clear water which possesses
just sufficient motion for the waves to lazily rise
and fall against the bare rocky shore, and yet is
calm enough for the reflection of the white clouds
and craggy hill-sides to repose sleepily on its
surface. From their geographical position these
islands should have a very different climate from
that which they possess; and perhaps it may be
due partly to this cause that the mountains are
so craggy and barren. For the rainfall during
several months is excessive, and is quite capable
of washing away any superincumbent earth from
the sides of the numerous needle-shaped peaks that
are to be found on most of the Lofoten Islands ;
moreover, in the valleys the whole country has
been worn down to the bone in prehistoric times by
enormous glaciers, and to-day the abnormal summer
rainfall and the frosts of the long Arctic nights are
continuing the work of denudation.

188 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

Although the Lofoten Islands are south of the
North ( 1 ape, yet one does not at once appreciate
how Par north they lie. From London they are
more than twelve hundred miles ; and they are one
hundred miles nearer the North Pole than the
northernmost part of Iceland. Moreover, most of
Siberia, Bering Straits, and Klondike are all further
south than the Lofoten Islands.

If it were not for that warm current which,
starting from the Gulf of Mexico, after thousands
of miles sweeps past this northern coast of Nor-
way, these islands would during the whole year be
covered with ice and snow, and be surrounded by
a frozen ocean.

The influence of the Gulf Stream on the tem-
perature of the northern coast of Norway is well
illustrated by the fact that every winter the sea
round the Lofoten Islands, and even further north
at Hammerfest and the North Cape, is always open ;
yet in Southern Norway, six hundred miles to the
southward, the Kristiania Fjord, which the Gulf
Stream does not touch, is during the winter months
covered with ice. The exact reverse in climate is
experienced in Newfoundland, the shores of which
are washed by the Labrador current, coming
from the frozen north out of Baffin Bay. In the
straits of Belle Isle, which are in the same latitude

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 189

as London, and which separate Newfoundland from
Labrador, may be seen snow-drifts on the seashore
even in July, whilst the bare uplands behind are
covered with far-stretching; fields of snow.

The icebergs, too, which drift south on this
Labrador current, are sometimes found in such low
latitudes that if on the map the latitude were
followed due east it would be found to pass through
Cairo, and not many miles north of Lahore in
India. The approach to the Lofoten Islands from
the south after one has passed the Arctic Circle is
particularly grand and beautiful. The mountains,
owing to excessive prehistoric glaciation, possess
forms at once curious and peculiar, giving an in-
dividuality to the view which is lacking further
south on the Norwegian coast. Lofoten, however,
is not seen till the great West Fjord is reached ;
then far away across thirty miles of blue waters,
which slowly pulsate with the long waves of the
open sea, appears a wonderful land of sharp-
pointed peaks that with a deep sapphire colour
outshines the deeper purple of the restless sea.

The west coast of Scotland can give similar
views. Rum, Skye, and the Hebrides, as seen
from the mainland at Arisaig or Loch Maree, in
some respects resemble these islands, but the
Lofoten mountains are far wilder and far more

190 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

fantastic in shape, and the number of peaks in-
iiniti ater than in the western islands of

Scotland.

Ages ago the West Fjord must have held an
enormous glacier, although it is improbable that
the great ice-sheet which then covered the country
ever was thick enough to submerge the loftier
summits of the Lofoten Islands, the highest of
which now stand 4000 feet above sea-level ; yet this
ice-sheet must have been thousands of feet thick,
for from any mountain-top it is easy to see how
whole masses of solid rock appear to have been cut
away, leaving valleys whose cross-section is a perfect
half-circle. To those who are sceptical of what ice
will do, a visit to the mainland opposite the Lofoten
Islands would prove very instructive.

Even the most gigantic of Himalayan glaciers
are feeble in comparison with an Arctic ice-sheet
such as that on Greenland or on the Antarctic
continent. On Nanga Parbat I have seen a vast
glacier turned to one side by its own moraine.
Near Elvegaard on the Ofoten Fjord there exist
valleys whose sides for miles are perpendicular walls
of rock sometimes a couple of thousand feet high,
and which undoubtedly have been excavated and
then polished by the power of the ice.

For many years I had been anxious to see the

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 191

Lofoten Islands, for I had heard rumours that they
were more beautiful than Skye and the Coolin.
But it was not till 1901 that I was able to go
there. It was in good company that I went ;
Woolley, Hastings, and Priestman, all of whom had
been there before in 1897, were the other members
of the party. They were able to advise where to
go, how to best overcome the difficulties of pro-
visioning our camp, and, what was still better, were
all able to speak Norsk fluently.

We landed from the steamer at Svolvaer, a
curious harbour amongst a maze of ice-polished
rocks. Svolvaer is the point where all the large
steamers call, although on a rough day as the
vessel approaches the harbour it looks as if there
was not even a passage for a rowing-boat any-
where along the rock-bound shore. The small town
of Svolvaer is built on a series of rocky islands,
consequently the only convenient way of getting
from one part of the town to another is by boat,
and of course there is no such thing as a road in
the town.

The finest mountains in the Lofoten Islands
congregate round the Raftsund, a narrow water-
way which separates the islands of Hindo and
Ost Vaago ; but further down the islands are
other isolated peaks whose pointed spires of rock

192 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

look almost inaccessible. Vaage Kallen is one,
whilst several in Moskeneso also would give ex-
cellent climbing. As far as I could see, these moun-
tains to the south-west are without glaciers, which
is not the case of those round the Raftsund.

The highest peak in Lofoten, Mosadlen by name,
had been climbed, but the next three highest,
Higraf Tind, 3780 feet; Gjeitgaljar, 35G0 feet; and
Kulten, 3490 feet, had as yet summits untrodden
by the foot of man. Moreover, of all the lesser
mountains only about half a dozen had been
ascended. Here, then, should the climbing be
good, was a mountaineer's paradise.

On August 2, with the help of two men and a
couple of boats, Woolley, Hastings, Priestman,
and I conveyed our camp- baggage from Svolvaer
to a spot marked Austavindnes near the head of
the Ostnes Fjord. A Norwegian porter, E. Hog-
renning, who had been with Hastings before on
the mountains for more than one season, also came
and helped to pull the heavily laden boats through
the waves of the fjord. It was a pleasing sight
to me as I sat idle in the stern of the boat in
which were the two local fishermen, to watch
Hastings and Priestman in their shirt-sleeves pull-
ing the second boat, and trying their best to show
that Englishmen were just as capable of rowing as

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 193

Norwegians. In this they were successful, for we
soon parted company, Hastings' boat finally dis-
appearing on the opposite side of the fjord. In time,
however, they came back again to us, but what
they had been doing was not quite clear — Hastings
had probably been trying to borrow something
from a house on the shore, a pole or a cooking-
stove, or some nails or a spade. All these things
and many more were ultimately collected by Hast-
ings, and before we left our camp a fortnight later
there were few houses on the Ostnes Fjord that
had not contributed something towards our wants.
Hastings' tent in the meantime had assumed the
appearance of a really first-class gipsy encampment.

The place where we had decided to camp was
finally reached, and all our provisions, tents, and
baggage landed on the beach. One of the boats
we kept, and our two fishermen, bidding us fare-
well, returned to Svolvaer.

The views from our camp, although rather re-
stricted, were occasionally most beautiful, when
during the long summer nights the peaks at the
head of the Ostnes Fjord to the north-west were a
dark purple against the evening sky. Opposite to
us was the peak Gjeitgaljar, a veritable little Dru
in appearance, and in front of it a ridge of pin-
nacles that looked hopelessly inaccessible.

L94 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

Every few moments some change in light and
shade or in colour would shift over the landscape.
As soon as we had got our camp into order, Woolley
and I determined to start the attack on the moun-
tains at once. As far as we knew, all the peaks
on the east side of the fjord were unclimbed.
We were not joined by Hastings and Priestman,
they having to return to Svolvaer for some more
baggage. Straight behind our camp the hill-side
rose sheer ; up these precipitous slabs of glacier-
worn rock we made our way, using the small ledges
on which grew grass and moss. So steep was the
mountain-side that when a spot was reached fully
a thousand feet above our camp, it looked as if we
could almost have thrown a stone on to the white
tents below by the water's edge.

After that we came to more easy travelling, still,
however, over glaciated rocks, finally reaching a
small glacier.

All along the head of the glacier were precipitous
rocks, rising here and there to peaks forming the
watershed of the island. At the head and to-
wards the right lay a snow col, filling a deep gap
in the rock wall in front of us. Towards this we
made our way. The ascent of the ridge from this
col to the left was by no means easy climbing, and
we soon found that ridge-climbing in the Lofoten,

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 195

even though there was no ice on the rocks, was
often difficult and sometimes impossible. Eventu-
ally, by a series of traverses on the south-east side
and by climbing up some cracks, we succeeded in
reaching our first summit. Here a cairn was built,
and I photographed an exceedingly tame ptar-
migan in the foreground against an excessively
savage-looking peak in the background named
Eulten. We were at a height of about 3000 feet.
Rulten, from where we were, looked hopelessly
inaccessible ; but Higraf Tind, the second highest
peak in Lofoten, when examined through a glass,
promised not only a fine climb, but also success.

One of the great charms of climbing in Lofoten
is that to hurry is unnecessary, for it is daylight
through all the twenty-four hours : a night out on
the mountains in darkness is impossible. Moreover,
owing to the comparative smallness of the moun-
tains more than one first ascent may be made in
a morning or an afternoon.

As Woolley and I saw several more summits
on our ridge (the Langstrandtinder) towards the
north-east, we started off for them after we had
fully exhausted the view, and smoked as many
pipes as were necessary to produce a sensation of
rest. In fact, to me one of the chief reasons for
moving on to the next peak was that again I might

19C THE LOFOTEN JSLANDS

have the excuse for being lazy, again look at
the sky, the far-off mountains, and the endless
expanse of the sea beyond. The climbing along
the ridge was easy, and two more summits
were ascended ; a small cairn was left on each of
their tops.

Further progress along the ridge was, however,
impossible, for a deep gap of about five hundred
feet cut us off from the next peak. We therefore
descended on the north side of the mountain to
a steep snow slope, which led down for several
hundreds of feet to the glacier below. Thence
following our route of the morning we descended
the steep rock face above our camp, and got home
in time for dinner.

During the next two days we paid a part of
our penalty for being on the shores of the Gulf
Stream. Clouds hid the mountains, and rain and
dull weather kept us at sea-level. But magnifi-
cent weather followed on August 7, and we were
all impatient to start for the virgin peak, Higraf
Tind. 3780 feet, the second highest mountain in
Lofoten.

In order to get to the base of the mountain we
rowed in our boat across the small arm of the
Ostnes Fjord, by whose shores we were camped,
and beached our boat at Liland. Thence making

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 197

our way through the thickets of dwarf birch up the
lower stretches of the small valley of Lilandsdal,
we arrived at the foot of the great precipice which
constitutes the upper part of the mountain.

Rimming the head of the valley was the rocky
ridge which connects Higraf Tind with Gjeitgaljar.
To follow this ridge to the summit of our moun-
tain would have necessitated climbing over various
pinnacles and notches, and as we were very sceptical
as to whether we should be able to surmount these
difficulties, we turned to our left along a small ledge
which appeared to run in and out of the gullies
that seamed this southern face of Higraf Tind.

On more than one occasion we found ourselves
in places where great care was necessary, and our
spirits rose and fell as we either found a narrow
ledge which would safely lead us into one of the
many rock gullies and out again on the far side,
or were forced back to try higher up or lower down
on the face of the mountain.

Eventually we emerged on the arete which led
up to the topmost peak. The summit of the moun-
tain consisted of huge monoliths of what I should
call granite (it may, however, be gabbro), similar
in appearance to those on the top of the Charmoz,
and also similar to the Charmoz in being very nar-
row w r ith tremendous precipices on each side.

L98 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

A short distance below the top a small pro-
montory on the ridge afforded a splendid point
from which a photograph could ho taken. Woolley
was sent on so that he might be photographed,
proudly planting his ice-axe on the topmost
pinnacle. In due time he appeared clear cut
against the sky ; but immediately afterwards from
his gesticulations I could see that something was
wrong. The reason was obvious when after a few
moments I joined him. Twenty feet away was
another summit a few feet higher, and between
the two a gulf was fixed.

Below us the rock fell sheer for over thirty feet
with never a crack in it, whilst on the opposite
side of the chasm the great blocks overhung, so
that even had we descended hand over hand on the
rope into the gap, direct ascent on the other side
was hopeless.

But remembering our tactics lower down we
tried further back for a traverse, and soon found
that by climbing down a crack between two huge
blocks on the eastern side we could get round into
the gap. So far so good, but how to surmount the
difficulties on the further side ! An attempt to
traverse on the western side was seen to be hopeless,
but an obliging ledge on the other face ran round
a corner. Where would it lead to? Cautiously

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 199

we edged along it, passing under the summit of
the mountain. Another crack between great slabs
was found ; up this we clambered, and once at its
top all difficulty disappeared. We had conquered
Higraf Tind, and all that remained for us to do
was to crown the vanquished mountain with a
cairn.

Then we returned to the lower summit, where the
cameras and baggage had been left. After toil
came repose. The afternoon was perfect, only a
few clouds floated in the clear sky. Far away to
the south-west could be seen the outer Lofoten
Islands, a mass of tangled mountain forms, in
colour every conceivable shade of atmospheric
blue and purple, whilst beyond lay the calm glitter-
ing ocean, and far, far away the last and loneliest
of the Lofoten, the island of Host. Nearer and
beneath us were numberless peaks, the majority
of them unclimbed ; of them, next in height to
Higraf Tind were Gjeitgaljar and Rulten. In the
distance across the Raftsund in the island of Hinclo
we could see Mosadlen and its two attendant
pinnacles of rock. These pinnacles, from their
appearance, should be excessively difficult to climb.
At our feet lay the Blaaskovl glacier with the
Troldfjordvatn beyond, a solitary iceberg floating
on its waters, and further the Trold Fjord and

200 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

glimpses of the Raftsund. All these combined to
give an effect of space and depth to the view far
in excess of what one would expect from mountains
not 4000 feet above their base.

We lingered for a long time on the summit ; but
in a land where, at that time of year, night never
comes, what need was there to hurry ? The extra-
ordinary atmospheric colours, the ever-changing
forms of the clouds, and the slowly slanting rays of
the sun, flashing first on one peak and then on
another, produced a wonderful picture. Also it was
the first time that I had been able to master the com-
plicated geography of the district, and the peaks
Store Trold Tind, Svartsund Tind, Isvand Tind, and
others that my friends had climbed when they were
last camped by the Raftsund, were pointed out to
me. No icy wind shrilled across the mountains,
darkness would not visit this land for many days
yet ; to hasten would have been as foolish as it was
unnecessary.

After our victory over Higraf Tind came the
deluge ; for three nights and days the heavens
were opened and the rains descended. Had it not
been for strenuous efforts on our part in trench
digging, our camp would have been bodily washed
into the fjord. On one morning an aluminium pan
out in the open served as an amateur rain-gauge ; in

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 201

three hours about three inches of water were regis-
tered, proving that Lofoten can easily compete with
our Atlantic coast as regards rainfall.

On the return of fine weather we determined to
attack Rulten. In our boat we rowed to his base,
landing in a small bay named Flaeskvik. The
lower slopes of the mountain were very steep, and
the usual climbing from ledge to ledge and up
gullies had to be resorted to.

After a toilsome climb, for the day was moist
and warm, we finally emerged on to the true south-
west ardte, having discovered on our way up a
most remarkable window in one of the ridges.

The difficulties now began, for the ridge at
once steepened ; moreover, in slimness it almost
resembled the Grepon. I tried to climb straight
up the ridge, but perpendicular slabs, with only
small cracks in them, barred the way. To be
entirely outside the mountain, when in a peculiarly
difficult place, is by no means pleasant. The
imagination is far less troubled with ideas of
what might happen should one fall, when the
extreme steepness is partially hidden from one's
view in the privacy of a rock chimney.

Baffled in my attempt to make a direct ascent, I
looked to the left for some convenient traverse.
There was none ; vertical slabs, many hundreds of

202 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

feet high, entirely stopped the way. To the right
hand a ledge was found which led for a short
distance along the side of the mountain, but smooth
rocks, bending over into space, brought my investi-
gations there also to an abrupt conclusion. It
might have been possible from the end of this
traverse to climb upwards on to the ridge, but
later we saw, on our return journey, that should
we have surmounted this difficulty, further along
the sky-line more than one gap would almost cer-
tainly have prevented our reaching the top. The
point where we stopped was below 3000 feet, there-
fore there was at least 800 feet more of the
mountain to climb.

Rulten is undeniably a difficult peak ; at present
I have seen no likely way up it, but no doubt by a
systematic attack, by trying first one side and
then another, a weak spot would be discovered.

During the day we had seen the Ostnes Fjord
dotted over with thousands of boats, and as we
descended on to the beach, we found many of the
fisherfolk on shore drying their herring-nets on the
rocks, for it was the herring fishery that had brought
them into the fjord.

These nets are often as much as 800 feet long by
100 to 130 feet deep, and a really fortunate haul
will bring in often many hundreds of pounds worth

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 203

of fish ; enough, in fact, to fill more than one small
steamer.

It is, of course, in the early spring, from January
to April, that the great cod fishery is carried on,
for it is then that the cod migrate to the coast.
The fish are caught with hooks and lines, and it is
the cod fishery which forms the chief trade of the
Lofoten Islands.

There are two usual methods of preparing the
fish for the market, either by drying (Torfisk) or
salting (Klipfisk). The former is the old-fashioned
method, and is carried out by drying the cod on
wooden scaffolds, after they have been cleaned and
the heads removed. And an ancient rule forbade
fish being hung up after April 12th, or taken down
before June 12th. By far the greater portion of
the cod, however, are exported as Klipfisk, Spain
being the chief customer, taking about three-fifths
of the whole amount exported. Of the remainder
of the cod, the liver produces cod-liver oil, the
roe is exported to France for sardine bait, and
the heads and other parts are turned into manure.

The next day was gloriously fine, so we stretched
our Alpine ropes to their fullest extent, between
the birch trees, and hung everything in the camp
on them to dry. Then we bathed in the clear
water of the fjord, taking headers into the deep

204 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

water from the smoothly polished rocks on the
shore.

Ever since we had pitched our tents by the side
of the fjord, Gjeitgaljar Tind had waited patiently.
Day by day we had seen the mists play hide-
and-seek behind his jagged pinnacles of rock ;
now we thought the time had arrived for us to
attack this formidable looking aiguille. In appear-
ance by far the most difficult peak we had seen,
it turned out the most easy to climb ; in fact,
there was no difficulty experienced anywhere on
the ascent.

Our route lay up a deep gully partly filled with
snow, on the left of the peak, which led us on
to a small snow-field behind the summit. On
the way up this gully a splendid view of the
pinnacle ridge, in front of the top of the mountain,
was obtained. A more formidable series of rock
towers I have never seen. From the snow-
field to the highest point is easy climbing. The
top consists of some flat slabs of rock, but the
eastern edge is most sensational, and is best in-
vestigated by lying on one's stomach before looking
over, for it drops sheer for many hundreds of feet.
A small stone let fall from the outstretched hand
is almost out of sight before it hits the vertical
side of the mountain.

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 205

A more ideal summit for a cairn could hardly be
imagined ; moreover, there were plenty of loose
stones, so Hogrenning was set to build one worthy
of the mountain. He produced one seven feet
high, and big enough to proclaim to all interested
the fact that somebody at least had scaled that
impossible looking rock pinnacle Gjeitgaljar.

On the next day we broke up our camp, putting
on board the steamer Rost all our baggage ; but
it was not till late on the day following that we
arrived back again at Svolvaer, for the Rost had
to call at all the small hamlets on the outer
islands, almost as far down as the end of Mosk-
eneso. We stopped just short of the historic
Maelstrom, but had we gone further the Maelstrom
would not have been seen, for we voyaged through
summer seas.

Hastings now left us in order to go to the
Lyngen peninsula, whilst Woolley, Priestman, and
I went to Digermulen on the Raftsund.

From there, that most extraordinary fjord, the
Trold Fjord was visited, and we also walked up to
the Troldfjordvatn. This mountain tarn, hidden
away amongst the mountains and flanked with dark
and forbidding precipices, has a beauty all its
own, and in some respects reminds one of Loch
Coruisk.

200 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

At its head is a small glacier, whose snout,
occasionally breaking off, produces icebergs. The
precipices along its shore fall sheer into its dark
waters, and the surrounding peaks are wild and
savage, but its sides lack the wonderful soft-coloured
clothing of the heather, and the rocks are not of
such rich hues as the gabbro of Skye. Perhaps I
may be wrong, yet it seemed to me that the
mountains themselves are not so graceful, neither
are the long curving lines so fine as those that can
be seen amongst the Coolin from the shores of
Coruisk.

From Digermulen we attempted the ascent of
another of the unclimbed peaks of Ost Vaago. It
is an unnamed peak north of Rorhop Vand. But
the weather was bad, and clouds prevented us ever
seeing the summit of our peak. We had, however,
a most delightful climb, first up a small glacier,
marked Dijerna on the map, thence up some steep
rocks to the ridge, which joined our mountain with
the Troldtinder. Following this ridge, we ulti-
mately got into a gap, but beyond this we could see
no possible way ; traversing for a short distance on
the western face only showed us that there was little
likelihood of our ever getting back again on to the
arete, so reluctantly we returned, and got back to
Digermulen in the rain.

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 207

The weather then went from bad to worse. So
we boarded the steamer Rost once more, and
went for a trip in mist, rain, and storm round
Lango, one of the outer islands of Vesteraalen.
All that we saw were the grey seas, the clouds
lying low on the mountains, and most extraordinary
places bristling with rocks, into which our captain
took the small Rost, tossed to and fro by the
great rolling waves of the Arctic ocean. The voyage
in fine weather must be superb.

On our return to Svolvaer, Woolley and I
travelled south with Priestman, as far as Trondhjem,
and from there went home to England.

It is a very curious fact that so few mountaineers
go to Lofoten. As far back as 1867 the Rev. St.
John Tyrwhitt read a paper before the Alpine Club,
in which he says, 'An exploration of the LofYodens
would be a work worthy of the Club in every sense
of the words.' Again, in 1869, Professor Bonney,
who visited these islands with E. Walton, speaks
' strongly of the wonderful grandeur and beauty of
some parts of the Lofotens,' and then the next paper
in the Alpine Club Journal is that of Priestman
in 1898 nearly thirty years later.

It is true that the peaks are only 4000 feet
high, and therefore cannot compete with those of
14,000 feet; also, they possess no large glaciers,

208 THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS

neither are the valleys filled with pine forests, and
the lore- ion in Is, as a rule, are desolate and the
rocks without much colour : but the rock climbing
la as good as any one could wish to get, the rock
resembling in many respects that of the Chamonix
Aio-uilles.

Moreover, and herein lies the strong charm of this
mountain-land, it is a land of exquisite atmospheric
effects. For those who care to climb where great
expanses of sky and clouds arch slowly down to
the far-off horizon, and where lonely islands are
set in open spaces of blue water, these remote
Lofoten mountain fastnesses beyond the Arctic
Circle are difficult to equal. The low circling sun
making it for ever afternoon, flooding sky and
mountain-land in warm, luminous colour, which
deepens the distances, and adds perspective to
ridge after ridge of serrated and barren peaks, all
these purely aesthetic qualifications are possessed
in a high degree by the Lofoten Islands. Also
for those who are willing to spend a lazy, de-
lightful summer holiday in camp by the side of the
many-voiced sea, far from busy crowds and the
worries of civilisation, there are few spots more
peaceful, more fascinating, or more beautiful than
these Lofoten Islands, where the wondrous summer
skies slowly change their exquisitely rich colouring

THE LOFOTEN ISLANDS 209

of long-drawn-out evening for the more delicate
tints of the early dawn, and where the restless
waves of the great Arctic Ocean are for ever wash-
ing against the precipitous sides of the bare, rock-
girt mountains.

A CHUILIONN

' But in the prime of the summer-time
Give me the Isle of Skye.'

A. Nicolson.

Once upon a time, as the story-books say, Dr. Samuel
Johnson was bold enough to forsake his beloved
Fleet Street, and, at the age of sixty-four, journey
northwards in company with Boswell to the Hebrides,
the Ultima Thule of those days. He finally arrived
in the Island of Skye, ' without any memorable
accident,' about the beginning of September 1773,
where he experienced all the severities of ordinary
Skye weather — much rain and many gales — and this
state of things continuing throughout the month,
the Doctor found some difficulty in getting back
again to the mainland. He writes, ' Having been
detained by storms many days in Skie, we left, as
we thought with a fair wind; but a violent gust
which Bos had a great mind to call a tempest,
forced us into Col, an obscure island.'

The wild and beautiful scenery of the Island of
Skye does not seem to have made any impression
on Johnson, and he leaves with no regret, merely

211

■2\2 A CIIUILIONN

admitting, that he has 'many pictures in his mind
which he could not have had without his journey,'
and that these pictures 'will serve later for pleasing
topics of conversation.' What these pictures were
he does not say, but they probably had little to do
with what we now call the beauties of the High-
lands ; for he mentions that he found little
entertainment in the wildernesses of the Hebrides,
the universal barrenness oppressed him, and he
points out that ' in those countries you are not to
suppose that you shall find villages or enclosures.
The traveller wanders through a naked desert,
gratified sometimes but rarely with sight of cows,
and now and then finds heaps of loose stones
and turf in a cavity between the rocks, where a
being, born with all those powers which education
expands, and all those sensations which culture
refines, is condemned to shelter itself from the wind
and the rain.' Also, that 'a walk upon ploughed
fields in England is a dance upon carpets, compared
to the toilsome drudgery of wandering in Skie.'
But it is not surprising that Johnson at the age of
sixty-four looked upon hilly country with aversion
— the mountains interfered with his convenience.
He only mentions the hills in Skye once. ' Here
are mountains that I should once have climbed,'
he writes to his friend Mrs. Thale ; ' but to

A CHUILTONN 213

climb steeps is now very laborious, and to
descend them dangerous.' No doubt at the
Doctor's age he was right ; still we feel somewhat
disappointed that during his stay at Talisker, he
was apparently unconscious of the Coolin, and we
receive but small consolation from his elegant
epistolary communications, when they tell us in-
stead, that he was gratified sometimes but rarely
with sight of cows, and that Mr. Boswell was
affected almost to tears by the illustrious ruins at
Iona.

All this shows us, how the attitude of people
towards the wilds of the Highlands has become
completely changed in one century, for Johnson
was not in any way peculiar in his ideas. Look
where we will in the literature of that time, we find
the same sentiments. Pennant, who visited Skye
the year before Dr. Johnson, describes the Coolin
as ' a savage series of rude mountains,' whilst
Blaven, ' affects him with astonishment.' Thirty
years later the only natural objects in the island
that interested Forsyth, at least so far as one can
judge from what he writes in The Beauties of
Scotland, were ' an obelisk of uncommon magni-
tude ' in the parish of Snizort, (probably the Storr
Rock,) and a waterfall and sea cave near Portree.

But a new school was growing up, and Sir

214 A CHUILIONN

Walter Scott was one of the first to insist, that
a visit to the Highlands would reveal objects more
interesting than cows, waterfalls, and sea caves.
People were beginning to find in the torrents,
mountains, lochs, and pine woods, beauties they had
not seen before. No longer were the hills chaotic
masses of rock, ready at any moment to fall and
overwhelm the valleys, nor were the moors and
glens expanses of uniform barrenness or gloomy
mountain fastnesses. Robson, at the beginning of
last century (1815), writing of one of the most
remote and wild regions of the Highlands, namely
the head of Glen Tilt, says : ' Of all the romantic
scenes which are presented to those who explore
the recesses of the Grampians, none will be found
to possess a more picturesque combination of wild
and characteristic beauty than this ' ; and in the
preface to his accurate and delightful volume on
the scenery of the Grampian mountains, he writes :
' With the man of taste few districts in this
kingdom have equal claim to admiration.'

Robson was not a Scotchman, but a London
artist ; yet one has only to look at his sketches,
and read the letterpress of his book to see how well
he appreciated mountain form, and how he under-
stood, in no uncertain manner, that which now
delights us nearly a century later in the Highlands.

A CHUILIONN 215

His water-colour picture of Loch Coruisk l is an
honest attempt to accurately reproduce the wonder-
ful colour and savage beauty of the grandest of all
Scotch lochs, and one is only sorry that he has
introduced into the foreground a fully dressed
Highlander — a legacy, no doubt, of that old feeling
that made Dr. Johnson crave for cows, and that
even now survives at the present time in the pretty
sketches of Scotch hills, where the foreground is
animated by Highland cattle.

Since Robson's time, many people have been to
the Highlands and to Skye and the Coolin. Turner
visited them, and the impression produced may
be seen from his drawing of Loch Coriskin. This
drawing is described by Ruskin in Modern
Painters as ' a perfect expression of the Inferior
Mountains,' yet any one who had really seen the
Coolin would hardly be justified in asserting that
Turner's drawing (Fig. 69, vol. iv., Modem Painters)
was the perfect expression of the hills round Sgurr
Dubh, even though it may be the perfect expression
of an inferior mountain.

Fortunately the Coolin are never inferior
mountains, unless we measure them by the number
of feet they rise above the sea. ' Comparative bulk
and height,' says the late Sheriff Nicolson, ' are of

1 It used to be in the Loan Collection at the South Kensington Museum.

216 A CHU1L10NN

course Important elements in mountain grandeur,
but outline and features are, as with human beings,
even more important.' Clachlet at Easter, covered
with snow and seen across the moor of Rannoch at
a distance of a few miles, towers up into the
heavens just as grandly as a peak five times its
altitude does in the Himalaya, when that peak is
seen from a point thirty miles away.

It is the atmosphere that adds both dignity and
charm to these Scotch hills, making them appear
far bigger than they would in the clearer air of the
larger mountain ranges, and giving them all the
softened colour and perspective so necessary to
emphasise the real beauty of true mountains.
Their form also helps them in no small degree.
The long-flowing lines of the lower slopes gradually
rising from the moorland below, and the beautifully
carved corries that nestle into their sides, all tend
to strengthen and serve as a fit substructure for
their more wild and broken summits.

At their feet lie no valleys with dirty-white gla-
cier streams tearing down between mud banks,
and never a proper pool in them ; their sides are
not disfigured with monotonous pine forests of a
uniform light green colour, but the heather and
the grey rocks, lichen-covered, mingle together
on their slopes, lighting up with every flash of

A CHUILIONN 217

sunshine, or deepening into every shade of brown

and purple gloom, as the storm clouds sweep over

their summits ; whilst, below, brown trout streams

wander between wild birches and Scotch firs,

staying here in some dark pool hidden away under

the rocks covered with ferns and heather, flashing

out again there into the sunshine over the pebbles,

and across the low-lying moor.

Those who have seen the Coolin from the moors

above Talisker in the twilight, or who have watched

them on a summer's evening from Kyle Akin,

apparently clothed in deep purple velvet broidered

with gold, and rising out of the ' wandering fields

of barren foam,' whilst

1 The charmed sunset linger'd low adown
In the red west ' ;

or lazily spent a whole day on the sand beaches of
Arisaig point, gazing, towards Rum and Skye lying
light blue on the horizon, and across a sea brilliant
in colour as the Mediterranean amongst the Ionian
islands ; or lingered at the head of Loch Coruisk
till the last pale light has faded out of the heavens
behind Sgurr Alasdair, and only the murmur of the
streams breaks the stillness of the night air — those
who have thus seen the Coolin will know that they
are beautiful. But the fascination that these
mountains exercise over those that know them

218 A CHUILION N

well is manifold ; there are more pleasures that the
Coolin can offer than those of being merely very
beautiful. For the mountaineer who wanders in
the heart of this marvellous mountain land there
are rock climbs without end. He can spend hour
after hour exploring the corries, or threading the
intricacies of the narrow rock edges that form so
large a part of the sky-line. From the summits he
can watch the mists sweeping up from below, and
hurrying over the bealachs in tumbled masses of
vapour, or he can dreamily follow the white sails
of the boats, far out to sea, as they slowly make for
the outer islands ; then clambering down the
precipitous faces he can repose in some sheltered
nook and listen to the sound of a burn, perhaps
a thousand feet below, echoed across from the sheer
walls of rock on the other side of the corrie ; there
is always something new to interest him — it may be
a gully that requires the utmost of his skill as a
mountaineer, or it may be a view of hill, moor, and
loch backed by the Atlantic and the far-off isles of
the western sea. Nowhere in the British Islands
are there any rock climbs to be compared with
those in Skye, measure them by what standard
you will — length, variety, or difficulty. Should
any one doubt this, let him some fine morning walk
up from the head of Coruisk to the rocky slabs at

A CHUILIONN 219

the foot of Sgurr a'Ghreadaidh. There he will see
the bare grey rocks rising out from the heather not
500 feet above the level of the loch, and there
walls, ridges, and towers of weather-worn gabbro
stretch with hardly a break to the summit of the
mountain, 2800 feet above him. Measured on the
map, it is but half a mile, but that half mile will
tax his muscles ; he must climb up gullies that the
mountain torrents have worn out of the precipices,
and over slabs of rock sloping down into space at
an angle that makes handhold necessary as well as
foothold ; he must creep out round edges on to
the faces of perpendicular cliffs, only to find that
after all the perpendicular cliff itself must be scaled
before he can win back again to the ridge that is
to lead him to the topmost peak. There are many
such climbs in the Coolin. The pinnacles of Sgurr
nan Gillean, the four tops of Sgurr a'Mhadaiclh,
and the ridge from Sgurr Dearg to Sgurr Dubh,
are well known, but the face climbs have been
neglected. The face of Sgurr a'Mhadaidh from
Tairneilear, the face of Sgurr Alasdair from Coire
Labain, are both excellent examples of what these
mountains can offer to any one who wants a first-
rate scramble on perfect rock. Sgurr a'Coir' an
Lochain on the northern face gives a climb as good
as one could anywhere wish to get, yet it is only

220 A CHU1LIONN

a preliminary one to those on the giants Sgurr
Alasdair and Sgurr Dearg that lie behind.

Hut splendid though the climbing on the Coolin
may be, it is only one of the attractions, possibly a
minor attraction, to these hills, and there are many
other mountain ranges where rock-climbing can be
found. It is the individuality of the Coolin that
makes the lover of the hills come back again and
again to Skye, and this is true also of other mountain
districts on the mainland of Scotland. To those
who can appreciate the beauty of true hill form,
the ever-changing colour and wonderful power and
character of the sea-girt islands of the west, the
lonely grandeur of Rannoch moor, the spacious
wooded valley of the Spey at Aviemore, backed by
the Cairngorm mountains, wild Glen Auric pro-
digal of gnarled pines abounding in strange curves
of strength, or the savage gloom of Glencoe — all
these scenes tell the same tale, and proclaim in no
doubtful manner, that the Scotch mountain land in
its own way is able to offer some of the most
beautiful mountain scenery in the world.

The Highlands of Scotland contain mountain
form of the very finest and most subtle kind — form
not so much architectural, of which Rusk in writes,
1 These great cathedrals of the earth, with their
gates of rock, pavements of clouds, choirs of streams

A CHUILIONN 221

and stone, altars of snow, and vaults of purple
traversed by the continual stars,' but form where
the savage grandeur, the strength, and the vastness
of the mountains is subordinate to simpler, yet in
a way more complicated, structures. Scotch moun-
tains have something finer to give than architec-
tural form. In their modelling may be seen the
same beauties that in perfection exist in Greek
statuary. The carving lines of the human figure
are more subtle than those of any cathedral ever
built. The Aiguilles round Mont Blanc are archi-
tectural in the highest degree, but the mighty
summit rising up far above them into the blue sky,
draped in wonderful and sweeping lines of snow
and ice, marvellously strong, yet full of moderation,
is far more mysterious, far more beautiful, than all
the serrated ridges and peaks that cluster round
its base.

It is in the gentleness of ascent in many of the
Highland hills, in the restraint and repose of the
slopes ' full of slumber,' that we can trace all the
finer and more delicate human lines ; and it is due
to the strength of these lines that the bigger
mountains seem to rise without an effort from the
moors and smaller hills that surround them. To
many people the Cairngorm range is composed of
shapeless, flat-topped mountains devoid almost of

222 A CHUILIONN

any character. They do not rise like the Matter-
horn in savage grandeur, yet the sculptured
sides of Braeriach, seen from Sgoran Dubh Mhor,
are in reality far more full of rich and intricate
mountain sculpture, than the whole face of the
Matterhorn as seen from the Hiftel Alp.

The individuality of the Coolin is not seen in
their summits, which are often almost ugly, but in
the colour of the rocks, the atmospheric effects,
the relative largeness and harmony of the details
compared with the actual size of the mountains,
and most of all in the mountain mystery that wraps
them round : not the mystery of clearness such as
is seen in the Alps and Himalaya, where range after
range recedes into the infinite distance, till the
white snow peaks cannot be distinguished from the
clouds, but in the secret beauty born of the mists,
the rain, and the sunshine, in a quiet and un-
troubled land, no longer vexed by the more rude
and violent manifestations of the active powers of
Nature. Once there was a time when these peaks
were the centre of a great cataclysm ; they are the
shattered remains of a vast volcano that ages since
poured its lavas in mighty flood far and wide over
the land ; since then the glaciers in prehistoric
times have polished and worn down the corries and
the valley floors, leaving scars and wounds every-

A CHUILIONN 223

where as a testimony of this power ; but the fire
age and the ice age are past ; now the still, clear
waters of Coruisk ripple in the breeze, by the loch-
side lie the fallen masses of the hills, and the
shattered debris left by the glaciers of bygone
days ; these harbour the dwarf hazel, the purple
heather, and the wildflowers, whilst corrie, glen,
and mountain-side bask in the summer sunlight.

But when the wild Atlantic storms sweep across
the mountains ; when the streams gather in volume,
and the bare rock faces are streaked with the foam
of a thousand waterfalls ; when the wind shrieks
amongst the rock pinnacles, and sky, loch, and hill-
side all are one dull grey, the Coolin can be savage
and dreary indeed. Perhaps, though, the clouds
towards evening may break ; then the torn masses
of vapour tearing in mad hunt along the ridges
will be lit up by the rays of the sun slowly descend-
ing into the western sea, ' robing the gloom with a
vesture of divers colours, of which the threads are
purple and scarlet, and the embroideries flame ' ; and
as the light flashes from the black rocks, and the
shadows deepen in the corries, the superb beauty,
the melancholy, the mystery of these mountains of
the Isle of Mist will be revealed. But the golden
glory of the sunset will melt from off the mountains,
the light that silvered the great slabs will slowly

224 A CHUILIONN

fail ; from out the corries darkness heralding the
black night will creep with stealthy tread, hiding
all in gloom ; then, last of all, beyond the darkly
luminous, jagged, and fantastic outline of the Coolin
the glittering stars will flash from the clear sky, no
wind will stir the great quiet, and only the far- oil'
sound, born of the rhythmic murmur of the sea-
waves beating on the rock-bound shore of lonely
Scavaig, remains as a memory of the storm.

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

In conclusion, let us sum up the lessons that the mountains
of the British Isles can teach us. They can give healthy exercise,
and cultivate in us the power of appreciating the beauties and
grandeur of nature. . . . Amongst them we may learn the
proper uses of our legs. . . . We may learn to climb difficult
rocks, to avoid dislodging loose stones, and to guard against
those dangers that are peculiar to grassy mountains. . . .
We can cultivate perseverance, courage, the quiet, uncom-
plaining endurance of hardships, and last, but not least
important, those habits of constant care and prudence without
which mountaineering ceases to be one of the finest sports in
the world, and may degenerate into a gambling transaction
with the forces of nature, with human life for the stake.'

Charles Pilkington.

Turning over the pages one day of the index of
the Alpine Club Journal, I looked for information
on the mountains of Ireland. Greece, Greenland,
Patagonia, the Peepsa fly, and mountain midgets
were all mentioned, but Ireland and its many
ranges of hills I sought for in vain. This obviously
was a most monstrous injustice, and it almost
seemed, at first sight, as if a tour of exploration
into this apparently unknown land might be under-
taken for the purpose of climbing the numerous
and neglected heights. Years ago, however, I
had visited several parts of Ireland, the Mourne
mountains, the north of Antrim, and a great

226 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

part of Donegal, and I knew that there were
cairns at least on the summits of most of the
mountains ; presumably, therefore, they had been
visited by man before my arrival.

Still it is strange that Ireland, with so many
groups of hills, and some of them so wonderfully
beautiful, should not attract more notice in
the mountaineering world. Why should not an
Irish club, like the Climbers' Club, the Cairngorm
Club, or the Scottish Mountaineering Club, be
formed? Mr. H. C. Hart, in his introduction to
Ireland in Climbing in the British Isles, has very
ably given both the possibilities and the limits of
Irish climbing, and I cannot do better than quote
his words : 'But there are ample opportunities for
acquiring the art of mountain craft, the instinct
which enables the pedestrian to guide himself alone
from crest to crest, from ridge to ridge, with the least
labour. He will learn how to plan out his course
from the base of cliff or gully, marking each foot and
hand grip with calm attention ; and knowing when
to cease to attempt impossibilities, he will learn to
trust in himself, and acquire that most necessary of
all climbers' acquirements, a philosophic, contempla-
tive calm in the presence of danger or difficult
dilemmas. If the beginner is desirous of rock
practice, or the practised hand requires to test his

"N «
^

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 227

condition or improve his form, there is many a
rocky coast where the muscles and nerves and
stamina can be trained to perfection. Kerry and
Donegal are competent to form a skilled moun-
taineer out of any capable aspirant. Ice and snow
craft is an accomplishment which must of course
be learnt elsewhere.'

All this being true, it seems incomprehensible
that Ireland should not be looked upon more
favourably as a possible mountaineering country.
I am afraid nowadays, however, that unless a
considerable amount of rock gymnastics can be
made part of a climb, the modern mountaineer is
not satisfied. Merely beautiful scenery is in-
sufficient to lure him to the mountains. Still, as
Mr. Hart says, Kerry and Donegal are good
training-grounds for the novice. This I can vouch
for ; the cliffs of Slieve League, 1972 feet, form one
of the finest sea cliffs in the British Isles, and much
of the best scenery amongst the Macgillicuddy's
Reeks can only be obtained by those who are
willing to do some rock scrambling.

Now the modern mountaineer, owing to this
specialisation in rock climbing, is apt to lose
much that the earlier mountain climbers en-
joyed ; whilst, in days gone by, the wanderer
amongst the mountains also missed much by

228 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

being unable to deal with difficult rocks. On
the other hand, the expert of to-day gains in
both directions, but he must beware of spending
all his time in mere gymnastics or the pure
athletics of mountaineering. One of Ireland's
most famous literary men, the Rev. J. P. Mahaffy,
more than a quarter of a century ago in Social
Life in Greece, points out the dangers of im-
moderate specialisation in bodily exercise, and how
alien it was to Greek education. ' The theoretical
educators,' he says, ' knew quite well what most
of us do not, that field sports are vastly superior
to pure athletics in their effects upon the mind.'
Again : ' The Greeks knew what we ignore, that
such sports as require excessive bodily training and
care are low and debasing in comparison to those
which demand only the ordinary strength and
quickness, daring and decision in danger, resource
and ingenuity in difficulties.' In these days the
old Greek virtue of moderation is hard to follow.
But perhaps in the sport of mountaineering it is
more easily observed than in many others, for he
who wanders amongst the hills is not driven for-
ward by strenuous competition, no crowd applauds
the success of some daring feat, and as a rule
these immoderate efforts can be avoided.

The extent of wild mountainous country in

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 229

Ireland where the mountaineer can enjoy his sport
is much greater than is generally supposed ; the
Kerry mountains occupy a larger area than the
Snowdon group in North Wales ; then there are the
Wicklow mountains, the Mourne mountains, the
Donegal Highlands, the Gal tee More group, and
the mountainous country of Connemara and Mayo,
which last is about forty miles long by thirty miles
wide.

Over all these scattered groups the mountaineer
can wander at his will; he will be stopped by no
one. Moreover, this west coast of Ireland has more
to offer than mountains. Should the visitor not be
extraordinarily enthusiastic and wish to walk over
the hills every day in the week, from Kerry to
Donegal there are always plenty of rivers and lakes
where salmon and trout can be caught ; the scenery,
too, is often of the finest description, wonderfully
wild sea lochs to explore, with a magnificent rock-
bound coast, on whose shores the restless Atlantic
breaks, also numberless lonely islands far out in the
sea. To those who care for beautiful soft atmo-
spheric lights, for great stretches of heather lands,
of sky, or of clouds, for a clean sea with often miles
of yellow sands or splendid cliffs, all these can
be found on Ireland's Atlantic coast, and they
surely are a sufficient enticement to bring far more

230 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

visitors to this beautiful country than are to be
found there at the present time.

It is now many years since I was stopping at
Carrick in Donegal bay. Not many miles west of
Carrick is Slieve League. Although it is not quite
2000 feet high, yet it needs a good climber to
ascend this hill from the seashore at its feet. I do
not know what the average angle may be, but on
one summer afternoon it took me a very long time
to accomplish the ascent.

Of course there is a great deal of heather and
grass set at the steepest angle on which they will
grow ; but a climber ought to be able to be as safe
on such a mountain-side as he is on hard rock or on
snow or ice, and unless experience is obtained, he will
remain a novice in this particular kind of climbing.

There was more than one place on the way up
Slieve League from the seashore that needed
considerable care, and I well remember those
' nasty ravines, iron-floored and steep-edged,' that
Mr. Hart mentions in his description of the place.

Another unique experience, not however a
mountaineering one, that I had whilst stopping at
Carrick, was in the sea caves in the cliffs just west
of Slieve League. It is only in the finest weather
that a boat can venture near them, for even after
several days of east wind off the land the Atlantic

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 231

swell is still big enough, unless great care is taken,
to break a rowing boat to pieces on the rocks.

The cliffs where the cave is situated come down
sheer into the dark water below ; the entrance is a
great doorway with a somewhat slanting roof, into
which the full force of the w r aves from the open
ocean can play ; and as the boat rises and falls on
the water, the danger of hidden rocks underneath
the surface adds a certain amount of anxiety to the
other feelings that possess one, as the daylight
begins to fade away in the mysterious recesses of
the cavern.

For about three hundred yards this tunnel is
straight 1 ; by looking back the opening can be seen
growing smaller and smaller and more distant.
At length a great dome- shaped chamber is reached,
from which branch out other caves in various
directions. Here the dim light of candles, the
washing of the water on the rocks, the thunderous
booming of the surge in unknown passages far
away in the bowels of the mountain, where, every
sound being greatly magnified and echoed back-
wards and forwards, all these produce most
weird and awe-inspiring sensations. The mystery
and the sense of remoteness from the world, the
uncanny feeling that a thousand feet of solid
rock lies between one and the sunshine, also

232 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

add to the effect. But when besides these things,
we had been listening to dreadful tales from our
boatmen, of mermaids, of sea pigs light green
in colour with pink spots and human heads, that
at night would come ' wondering ' round the boat,
and finally of a ' great big beast, a serpent,' as large
as the steeple of a church, which was supposed not
only to feed on human beings when opportunity
offered, but what was worse, was said to inhabit the
inner recesses of the very cave in which we were,
it is unnecessary to say how easy it was to be
frightened at anything.

The only unblocked waterway where a boat could
pass on out of this domed hall was to the right, and
up this we were preparing to go in search of seal,
when some exceptionally large waves, tortured in
some narrow passages, sent a terrific boom with multi-
tudinous echoes reverberating through the caverns ;
at the same time a most curious phenomenon, half
sound, half vibration of the air occurred. It
seemed as though the whole body of the air in the
cave pulsated, producing a swishing sound with
periods of about one second, which gradually be-
came fainter and fainter till it died away. Probably
the cave had been converted into a gigantic organ
pipe, and the note was one so low down in the scale
that the vibrations were about one per second.

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 233

Unfortunately I suggested that it was the 'great
big beast, the serpent/ and that finished the expedi-
tion. Our boatmen were at once terrified, shouting
to each other, pushing and half rowing the boat in
a frenzy of fear. Amidst the bellowing noises of
the various caverns leading out of the central hall,
and the angry hisses of ' the beast, the serpent,'
we departed most hurriedly for the outer air.

Slieve League, however, if the Ordnance Survey
maps are to be trusted, is not the finest cliff in
Ireland. On the western coast of Achill Island are
the cliffs of Croaghaun, 2192 feet high. But my
friend, Colin Phillip, who was there in the summer
of 1901, made a somewhat startling discovery. A
piece of land to the west of Croaghaun, more than
a square quarter of a mile, has been left out
altogether from the map. Where this land should
be a bay is marked ; perhaps, however, his own
words will describe better how the discovery was
made. ' The seaward face of Croaghaun is usually
spoken of as an almost perpendicular cliff of over
2000 feet. This is not true. It is a fine, rocky,
more or less buttressed mountain face, dropping
to the sea at an angle of perhaps 50 degrees in
places. But its general inclination would not be so
much. There appears to be a curious error in the
Ordnance Survey map with regard to the sea front

234 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

of this hill. Expecting to find a grand view of this
giant amongst the cliffs of Ireland, I made for a
point marked on the map as a headland, projecting
well out to sea on the west side of Croaghaun, from
which a complete survey of the face should have
been obtained. I was astonished to find, instead of
a broad bay, with the great cliff of the mountain
descending into it, a narrow inlet, like a ' geo ' in
Shetland, on the other side of which, almost
completely blocking the view, was the south-west
buttress of Croaghaun, and certainly not steeper
than 40 degrees.' The whole bay, therefore, as
marked on the Ordnance map, is now occupied by
the lower part of the mountain ; consequently,
instead of a sheer cliff, this western side of the
mountain is no more than an easy slope which may
be traversed in many places.

Another piece of information of Phillip's which
may be novel, is that perhaps Sir Walter Scott was
right when he called the hills in Skye the Cuchullin
hills. During a discussion on the Skye hills with
Mr. Seaton F. Milligan (past vice-president of the
Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland), whom
Phillip met on the west coast of Ireland, Mr.
Milligan said that the hills had been named after
the Irish hero Cuchulain ; and the reason he gave
was the following : —

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 235

In those early days the sons of the kings of
Ireland were often sent to Skye to learn the art of
war. At the end of their first year, a test of their
progress was whether they were able to walk across
what was called ' the bridge of the cliffs ' ; this bridge
is supposed to have been part of the ridge of the
Coolin. The bridge is thus described in the legend :—

' Wonderful was the sight the bridge afforded,
when any one would leap upon it, for it narrowed
until it became as narrow as the hair of one's
head, the second time it shortened till it became
short as an inch, and the third time it grew slippery
until it was as slippery as an eel of the river, and
the fourth time it rose up on high against you as
the mast of a ship. 1

That this description agrees with the ridges of
Sgurr nan Gillean (the peak of the young men) no
one can deny, and the story goes on to say how
Cuchulain at once performs the feat at the first
trial, so astonishing the onlookers that the bridge
was named after him.

In opposition, however, to this, we have the
weighty statement of the late Alexander Nicolson,
who says, 1 • They are known to the natives of Skye
and always have been as "A Chuilionn." There
was an Ossianic hero of the name Cuchulain, said

1 The Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal, voL-ii. p. 99.

236 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

to have been brought up at Dun-Sgatnaich, an

ancient fort near Ord in Skye, but the natives
never called the great mountain range by his name.
In this view I am supported by our greatest Celtic
archaeologist, Dr. Skene.'

But to return to Ireland : besides the cliffs on
Achill, all along the north coast of Mayo are
excessively wild and grand precipices often of hard
quartzite rock, and this part of the west coast is
perhaps the finest and most picturesque in all
Ireland.

East and south of Achill lie a series of detached
mountains and ranges of mountains, all of which
are more or less interesting as they command wide
views of sea, valley, and moorland. South of the
Killary lies perhaps the most beautiful of all the
mountainous districts in Ireland, the district of
Connemara. In fact, it is not exaggeration to say
that there are few finer groups of hills in Britain
than the twelve Bens of Connemara, and this is the
more remarkable when one considers that they are
only 2395 feet high. To again quote Phillip :
* The views from some of the summits are enchant-
ing, in particular from the easily got at summit
W. S. W. of Leenane. From this point the Killary
can be traced from the ocean to its head. The
valley of the Erriff river carries the eye over the

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 237

plains of Mayo northwards to the far away hills in
Sligo. To the eastward the Formnamore moun-
tains, with glimpses through their gaps of Loughs
Maske and Corrib, beyond which the plains extend
through Mayo, Galway, to Clare. Then Maam
Turk blocks the view, which opens again, how-
ever, to the south, with wild moorland and the
whole of the twelve Bens. Through the gaps of these
mountains the Atlantic is seen in more than
one direction, fringed by rocky headlands and
white sandy bays, carrying the eye back again
to the westward and the solemn Killary, beyond
which, lying almost hidden amongst the hills, is
the beautiful valley of Delphi and glimpses of the
Dhu Lough.'

I have left the Kerry hills till the last, because
they are the most important and the highest in
Ireland. The Connemara hills are perhaps, on the
whole, more beautiful, but the hills of Kerry
possess a grandeur and such characteristic form,
that one at once thinks of them as mountains and
not hills. This is not surprising, for they easily
surpass the English hills in height, Carran Tuo-
hill, 3414 feet, Been Keragh, 3314 feet, Caher,
3200 feet, and Brandon, 3127 feet, being the
highest.

Moreover their bases are in some cases (Brandon,

238 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

for instance) on the seashore. The chief points of
this group, which in some respects differentiate
them from the other ranges of mountains in the
British Isles, are the numberless wild mountain
tarns that lie hidden in their corries, the masses of
vegetation that clothe even the rock precipices, and
the curious capping of peat that is to be found on
some of the hill-tops.

In some instances, after climbing up hundreds of
feet of rock from the corrie below, one finds that
the last twenty feet of the mountain is up a steep
slope of peat, occasionally almost corniced by the
overhanging fringe of heather. Then, too, the
luxuriant growth of the trees in some of the
valleys, especially those near Killarney and at the
head of Caragh lake, is wonderful, and it is almost
needless to say that the upper part of the Lake of
Killarney itself, beneath the Macgillicuddy's Reeks,
is unrivalled in the British Isles for rich beauty.
There are larger lakes surrounded by far wilder
scenery in Scotland, for instance in Glen Affric, or
lakes like Loch Katrine that lie between wonderful
forested shores and beneath shapely mountains, or
Rydal Water or parts of Derwentwater in the
Lake District ; but the upper lake at Killarney,
as an example of winding stretches of clear waters,
with rocky shores clothed in oaks, firs, hollies,

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 239

and other trees, the foliage stretching upwards
to the heather-covered mountains behind, this
particular part of the Kerry mountain land cer-
tainly in its own way stands alone ; it has no
competitor.

The warm moist Atlantic climate has had almost
the effect of a hothouse on the flora of these
sheltered valleys, whilst above, on the summits of
the mountains the first snow and storms of the
winter and early spring produce a rugged wildness
that is only to be found in the British Islands on
mountains over 3000 feet high.

Carran Tuohill, the highest of the Macgillicuddy's
Reeks, also the highest mountain in Ireland, lies
some distance away from Killarney. Its eastern
and northern faces are especially grand. At its foot
can be found more than one mountain tarn ; Lough
Gouragh, at the head of the Hag's Glen, being very
fine, for the greatest mountain precipice in Ireland
rises from its shores almost to the summit of Carran
Tuohill, about 2300 feet above. On the other side
of the mountain, another tarn, Coomloughra, is of a
more ordinary type, even although it is encircled by
the three highest peaks in Ireland. Notwith-
standing that the face of Caher, which overlooks
Coomloughra, is precipitous for more than 1000
feet, yet there is no very good climbing to be

240 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

obtained on it, for the rocks are treacherous ; also,
they run diagonally up and across the face of the
mountain.

The views from all these mountains that surround
Coomloughra are very fine. That from Been Keragh
perhaps is the best for the surrounding peaks ; for,
looking across the Hag's Glen at the black pre-
cipices of Carran Tuohill and at the savage ridge
which connects it with Been Keragh, one wonders
that such wild and desolate scenery can exist so
near to the rich and luxuriant vegetation of the
valleys only a few miles away.

From Carran Tuohill it is towards the west and
south-west that the finest outlook is obtained.
Across the valley in which Coomloughra lies are the
cliffs of Caher ; Dursey Island is seen in the
distance at the mouth of the Kenmare river ; the
small but shapely Skellig rocks jut out of the open
sea far away in the west ; and Brandon, one of the
most beautiful of mountains, stands alone and
solitary on the shores of the wild Atlantic beyond
the blue waters and the yellow sands of Dingle
bay. Heather moorland, desolate loughs, and
peat mosses extend for miles, and the great
dome of the sky, perhaps necked with soft clouds,
bends down to the far off horizon of the outer
ocean.

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 241

To the west of the Macgillicuddy's Keeks, in a
part of the country but little visited, is Lough
Coomacullen, one of the most wonderfully beautiful
mountain tarns I have ever seen. Hidden away
amongst the hills, and difficult of access, it has
attracted but little attention, yet with its glacier-
worn sides of bare rock that descend in many
places sheer into the black waters below, and the
circle of cliffs which surround the upper part of the
lough, one might almost imagine one was in
Norway, except that the deep velvet brown of the
heather, the few well-grown hollies clinging to the
broken rock walls, and the rich colours of the
mosses, lichens, and ferns that find nourishment on
the ledges and faces of the precipices, at once show
that one is on the Atlantic coast and in a softer and
warmer clime.

Five hundred feet below this small tarn lies the

larger lake, Coomasaharn; it too has a shore line much

wilder and more rugged than the majority of British

lakes. Great boulders and masses of glacier-worn

rocks surround it, whilst at its head the precipices

extend almost to the summit of Coomacarrea (2542

feet). In some places these precipices give good

rock scrambling, but it is rather surprising, after a

couple of hours' climbing on good hard rock, to find

that the top of the mountain is a flat peat moor

242 THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND

which in some places almost overhangs the wild
corrie below.

This capping of peat on several of even the
wilder mountains seems to be characteristic of
many of the summits on the west coast of Ireland.
The highest summits of the Reeks, however, are
quite free from peat.

There are, of course, many other mountainous
districts besides those I have already mentioned.
The Mourne mountains, where the mountaineer
may, if he chooses, collect topaz and beryls of a
most exquisite blue, the Wicklow, Tipperary, or
Waterford groups, all possess wild mountain
scenery, and many rare plants can be found there.
But after all, undoubtedly it is the picturesque side
of the mountain land that makes to the wanderer
in Ireland the most forcible appeal of all. It is
the atmospheric softness, and the rich vegetation,
which, on the west of Ireland, covers the valleys,
glens, and the mountain-sides, it is the colour
of the deep and lovely tarns, of the expanses of
heather, and of the distances, and lastly, it is the
rugged, rock-bound coast, a coast of many bays,
of desolate islands, of solitary sea stacks, of cliffs, of
sandy beaches, and wonderful sea caves, a coast
that has for ages withstood the attacks of the
mighty waves of the storm-driven Atlantic ; these

THE MOUNTAINS OF IRELAND 243

are the beauties of which this Irish mountain land
can boast, which after all are of more worth than
the attractions of many inaccessible pinnacles and
many ranges of ugly but excessively steep and high
mountains.

PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR
WASTDALE HEAD

' Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase,
And marvel men should quit their easy chair,
The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace,
Oh, there is sweetness in the mountain air
And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.'

Childe Harold.

To the mountaineer who makes his way from
Seascale or from Drigg to Wastdale Head, the
Cumberland hills with their long, rolling outlines,
their flanks concealed by superincumbent soil and
vegetation, do not seem to promise well as far as
rock climbing is concerned. Only here and there
do the ridges break into rocky precipices; nowhere
is seen the rugged grandeur of the Highlands of
Scotland ; such valleys as Glencoe with its rock-
built walls, or the splintered summits of the Coolin,
or of An Teallach, do not exist. Yet the rock-
climber who stops at the inn at the head of
Wastdale may spend weeks before he has exhausted
the district. He will be lucky indeed, and a first-
rate climber to boot, if he has done the best of the
climbs without further aid than that afforded by

245

246 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

what the mountaineer calls the 'moral' support of
the rope. Once upon a time a celebrated climber
of Alpine repute came to Wastdale for the first,
alas ! also for the last time. ' Climbing in the
Caucasus/ Mummery said, ' was easy and safe ; in
the Alps too it was usually easy and safe, though
sometimes difficult ; but climbing as practised at
Wastdale Head was both difficult and dangerous.'

The great delight of the climber in the Cumber-
land hills is in gullies or ' ghylls,' and no wonder,
for there are endless gullies both great and small,
the climbs in which vary with the state of the
weather, and may be easy or difficult, wet or dry,
or dirty, according to circumstances. Then again,
the climber must have a perfect contempt for
streams, and especially waterfalls, for the ascent of a
perpendicular ' pitch ' through a delightfully cold
and invigorating shower bath will be one of his
earliest experiences. But there are plenty of other
climbs besides those in ghylls. Hidden away in the
recesses of the hills are sharp and jagged pinnacles
of hard porphyritic rock, precipices smooth, flaw-
less, and sometimes overhanging, whose firm grey
bastions have withstood the storms of ages ; whilst
only at their feet, where lie the remnants which
have yielded, flake by flake, from the massive
buttresses above, does the ruin proclaim that the

WASTDALE HEAD 247

hand of time carves the rocks on the mountain-
side as well as the valleys below.

This was written several years ago, before
all the rock problems, and also before all their
variations, had been worked out. When first I
visited Wastdale Head it was at Christmas time.
I knew there was a pinnacle of rock on Great
Gable, also that another rock climb could be
obtained on the Pillar mountain — that was all.
Mr. Jones had never visited Wastdale, and his work
was unwritten. The entries in the climbers' book
at the inn were only just begun.

W. P. Haskett Smith, J. W. Robinson, C.
Slingsby, and G. Hastings were the pioneers of
those days ; they first really drew the attention of
mountaineers to the fact that rock climbing of every
degree of difficulty could be indulged in amongst
the hills that surrounded the head of Wastdale.

It is true that for many years previously
members of the Alpine Club had been in the
habit of spending some time every year in the
district, but they had gone there more for the ice
and the snow and for the enjoyment of the
mountain scenery than for indulgence in extra-
ordinary performances in the ghylls and on the rock
faces. May we not call theirs the Golden Age ?
whilst that sterner time which followed, full of

248 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

fierce fighting, of victory and of defeat, was the
Age of Iron.

It was my good fortune to be associated with
those who were responsible for this second period,
and many a long day have I spent on the mountains
in their company. In those days at Easter time
there was usually a great gathering of the
mountaineering clans in the inn at Wastdale Head.
They came from all points of the compass, and
swooped down on Wastdale, bringing with them
every sort of mountain appliance. Into the inn
they would rush, soon to emerge again clothed in
wonderful suits of clothes, carrying cameras, ropes,
ice-axes, and luncheons ; and they used to remind
me of an instructive toy machine presented to a
friend of mine in the days of his early youth —
' morality made easy ' he afterwards called it,
when he had arrived at man's estate and was able
to grasp the true inwardness of the ingenious
apparatus. Its object was to inculcate at an early
age the virtue of moderation, and it represented a
public house. You slowly turned a handle, making a
procession of respectably dressed citizens, with
eager, smiling faces, enter the front door, over which
was written in large letters : —

1 They quietly enter the doorway within
For an hour's indulgence in riot and sin.'

WASTDALE HEAD 249

Another turn of the handle, which should now be

done rapidly and with shaking hand, and at once

the scene changed. From out the back door

dishevelled and staggering figures emerged, with

no resemblance whatever to the former ones.

Above was another couplet : —

' Then rushing out wildly, their senses departed,
On Ruin's dark pathway the victims are started ! '

Alas ! those delightful toys of one's youth, where
have they all gone ? The toys of the present day
are feeble, and lack that educational value which
those of thirty years ago never failed to possess.
How can we compare them ? It is The Bad Boys
Book of Beasts to Dr. Watts's Poems. The first
of the two couplets mentioned above, in the case
of the mountaineer, however, needs emendation ;
perhaps ' quiet lunchin ' at the end of the second
line would be more appropriate. But I have
wandered from my subject.

The inn at the head of Wastdale lies in the
very centre of the hills, and from it two or three
hours at the most will take the climber to his
work.

On the south are the gullies of the Screes ;
the great gully opposite Wastdale Hall will occupy
an ordinary party at least three hours. The first
three or four hundred feet are by no means easy,

250 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

and are thoroughly typical of ghyll climbing. On
the south-east of Wastdale is Scawfell, with its
splendid precipices where there are three first-rate
ghyll climbs, Moss ghyll, Steep ghyll, and Deep
ghyll. At the top of the last is Scawfell pinnacle,
a delightful short climb if taken from the top of
Scawfell ; but if ascended from the foot of the
precipice, via Steep ghyll, and then by the arete
which lies between Steep ghyll and Deep ghyll, it
will give several hours of really good rock work.
Next to Scawfell are the Pikes and Great End. On
both of these interesting scrambles can be found.
To the eastward, almost above the inn, the slopes
of Great Gable stretch up towards the Napes rocks,
where can be found the Napes Needle and several
rock ridges. Further away, on the north, lies the
Pillar mountain, with its great buttress of rock
jutting out into Ennerdale. Up the Pillar Pvock
there are at least half a dozen different routes, and
none of them can be called perfectly easy. But
these are by no means all the climbs that can be
found near Wastdale Head. There are gullies on
the Langdale Pikes and on Pavey Arc, and another
on Dow Crag near Coniston.

My first climb was on the Napes Needle. Since
then I have been up it many times, but it always
remains as interesting as ever. I must confess that

WASTDALE HEAD 251

the first time I tried it, it was too difficult for
me, and I was very glad of a helping hand from
the first man up, for we were climbing without a
rope and had no nails in our boots, our proper
mountaineering equipment having been delayed at
Drigg station ; and as we afterwards learned, we had
shocked Dan Tyson of the inn by going to the hills
in what he considered were our Sunday clothes.
But the Pillar Rock is the most famous crag near
Wastdale. It lies on the far side of the Pillar
mountain, and is not a great distance below the
summit. It consists of a mass of rock standing
far out from the side of the mountain, its precipices
overhanging the head of Ennerdale. The end
nearest the Pillar mountain is cut off from the
hill- side by a great gash, whilst the other end
plunges down almost perpendicularly for about
eight hundred feet.

The great Ennerdale climb is up this Ennerdale
face. At the bottom a broad grassy band, 'The
Great Doupe,' runs across the foot of the precipice.
It is from here that the climb must be begun, but
every way up this face finally converges towards
one spot, called the ' Split-Block.' Above is a
vertical rock face, whilst below, four hundred feet
straight down, is the grassy band. For nine years
all attacks on the Ennerdale face of the Pillar Rock

252 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

ended here. Only in 1891 was it conquered. Two
of the party were lowered down into a savage-
looking gully, from which they ascended to a spot
some thirty feet higher than the Split-Block, and
by lowering a rope were able to pull up the last
man direct, who could not descend alone into the
gully. This sounds as if the last man had a
comparatively easy climb. But as the ascent is
literally made through the air, unless an extra
rope is sent down to help him with a noose at the
end which can be used as a stirrup, he will arrive
up above in a somewhat congested state. Moreover,
he must insist that the two ropes be worked by
reasonable people, otherwise he will be unfortunate
enough to probably complete his ascent in an
inverted position, and be apt to lose faith in the use
of the Alpine rope.

It has already been pointed out that above the
Split-Block is a vertical precipice. Across this face
about twenty-five feet above the Split-Block there
is another way up, which does away with the
necessity of descending into the Savage gully. It
was first climbed by G. Solly. But it is a most
dangerous climb, for the leader must traverse across
this perpendicular face hanging on by his hands
alone, and — here is where the danger comes in —
should he be unable to finish the climb, and the

WASTDALE HEAD 253

worst piece which needs the expenditure of most
energy is at the very end, the leader is quite unable
to return : there he hangs till he can hold on no
longer, then he drops ! I myself have seen this
happen. The subsequent escape, not only of the
leader but of the rest of the party, was the most
marvellous piece of luck I have ever seen on the
mountains, and even now makes me shudder when
I think of it.

Collier has also varied this climb by getting up
directly from the end of the ledge beyond the Split-
Block ; but, after all, the original manner employed
by the first party in 1891 still remains the most
satisfactory method for overcoming the difficulty at
this spot on the Pillar climb. Above this, a gully
leads to within two or three hundred feet of the
top, which can be reached by an interesting rock
climb of no great difficulty.

This ascent of the Pillar Rock is certainly a
remarkably fine one. It is full of variety, and nearly
the whole of it is on bare rock ; moreover, owing to
the great steepness during the greater part of the
climb, it produces an exhilarating feeling of being
perched in mid- air most of the time. I should
think nowadays it cannot be difficult to find, but
when we first tried it, a few scratches here and
there on the rock were our only guides.

254 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

Of the ghyll climbs, the one on the Screes already
mentioned is well worth trying. It was first climbed
by Hastings, Robinson, and myself; and I could not
have been in better company. Robinson is the
great authority on the hills of the Lake district ;
there is not a rock on a mountain-side that he does
not know. In sunshine or mist, in daylight or at
midnight, he will guide one safely over passes or
down precipitous mountain-sides. Every tree and
every stone is a landmark to him. It was on a
perfect winter's morning, many years ago now, that
we started for the great gully in the Screes. Not
a breath of air stirred ; hoar frost covered the
ground ; the trees were a mass of silver, glittering
in the morning sun. If from the road by Wastdale
Hall the rock face opposite be examined, it does
not seem to be much broken, but as one approaches
the gullies deepen, and in reality are great gashes
penetrating far into the hillside.

The bottom of the gully is reached by ascending
a mass of loose stones which stretch almost down
to the lake-side. In the gully there is no great
difhculty at first, but after a short time it branches
off into two, and it is the left-hand branch which
has to be followed. The stream was frozen, forming
a beautiful cascade of ice, and we were forced on to
the buttress that divides the two gullies. Hastings

WASTDALE HEAD 255

was sent on to prospect, whilst I had to back him
up as far as possible. With considerable trouble he
managed to traverse back to the left into the main
gully, using infinitesimal knobs of rock for foot
and hand hold. We then followed, to find ourselves
in a narrow cleft cut far into the side of the hill.
Perpendicular walls rose on both sides for several
hundred feet ; above us stretched cascade after
cascade of solid ice, always at a very steep angle
and sometimes perpendicular. Up these we cut
our way with our axes, sometimes being helped by
making the steps close to the walls, and using any
small inequalities on the rock face to steady us in
our steps. At last we came to the final pitch.
Far above us at the top, the stream coming over a
hanging ledge on the right v ^d frozen into masses
of insecure icicles, "Cxiie twenty or more feet long,
and thus pr^", ented us from getting up on that side.
Howe /er, at the left-hand corner, at the top of the
pitah, a rock was wedged, overhanging the gully,
but leaving underneath a cave of considerable size.
We managed to get as far up as the cave ; there we
placed Robinson, in a position of great importance
and responsibility, for he had to hitch himself to a
jammed boulder at the back, and hold both Hastings
and me steady on the other end of the rope. I
placed myself in the most secure position I could :

256 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

my right foot occupied a capacious hole cut in the
bottom of the icicles, whilst my left was far away
on the other side of the gully, on a small but
obliging shelf in the rock face. In this interesting
attitude, like the Colossus of Rhodes, I spanned
the gulf, and was anchored to the boulder as
well as to Ilobinson. Next, Hastings, with con-
siderable agility, climbed on to my shoulders ; from
that exalted position he could reach the edge of the
overhanging stone, underneath which Ilobinson was
shivering, and, after great exertions, was able finally
to pull himself up on to the top. Then Ilobinson
and I followed on the rope. No doubt when the
gully is dry, with neither ice nor water in it, the
climb would be much modified. Above this pitch
the climbing is easy ao *He gully opens out, and the
route to the top may be varied '. wording to taste ;
some ways are difficult and some are e^zy-

There is one more climb, the recollection o± "which
always gives me pleasure ; indeed it was one of ehe
most delightful I ever had in this splendid land of
rock scrambles. On the great precipice of Scawfell,
Moss ghyll is the most easterly of the three gullies
which look towards the Pikes.

When we attacked it, this ghyll had not been
climbed, although several parties had been up a
considerable distance. The highest point attained

WASTDALE HEAD 257

was just underneath a huge overhanging block of
rock, weighing hundreds of tons, which formed the
roof of a great cave. Robinson, Hastings, and I were
anxious to see whether it was not possible in some
way to circumvent this objectionable block. We
had already carefully prospected the upper part of
the ghyll from above, finding that there was no
difficulty once this obstacle was passed. We there-
fore next attacked the ghyll from the bottom,
hoping that we should be able to discover a way
where others had failed.

Starting from below we chose the easiest route
up the rock face on the right hand of the ghyll.
Here the climbing chiefly consisted in getting from
one ledge to another, up slabs of rock. We soon,
however, got into the gully itself, where we found
a perpendicular wall, up which we had to climb,
before reachiug a ledge, which the first party of
exploration had called the ' Tennis Court ' on account
of its large size when compared with those lower
down. If it were to grow vigorously, perhaps in its
manhood it might become just large enough to run
about on, but when we first made its acquaintance
it must have been in its early childhood. From
here we traversed back into the ghyll and got
underneath the great overhanging block.

We found that below the great slab which formed

258 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

the roof another smaller one spanned the ghyll,
forming the top of a great door to the cave behind.
Under this we passed, and clambered up on to the
top of it. Over our heads the great rock roof
stretched some distance over the ghyll. Our only
chance was to traverse straight out to the right,
over the side of the ghyll, till one was no longer
overshadowed by the roof above, and then, if
possible, climb up the face of rock, and traverse back
again above the obstacle into the ghyll once more.

This was easier to plan than to carry out ; ab-
solutely no handhold could be found, but only one
little projecting ledge jutting out about a quarter
of an inch and about a couple of inches long to stand
on ; moreover, a lip of rock overhung this little
ledge, making it impossible to grip it satisfactorily
with one's foot. Beyond this there were six or
eight feet of the nearly perpendicular rock wall to
traverse.

I was asked to try it. So, being highly pleased
at being intrusted with such delicate operations, I
with great deliberation stretched out my foot and
tried to grip the little edge with the side nails of
my boot. Just as I was going to put my whole
weight on to this right foot, the nails, unable to
hold on such a minute surface, gave way, and if
Hastings had not instantly with a mighty pull

WASTDALE HEAD 259

jerked me back, I should have been swinging on the
rope in mid-air. But we were determined not to be
beaten. Hastings's ice-axe was next brought into
requisition, and what followed I have no doubt will
be severely criticised by more orthodox mountain-
eers than myself: as it was my suggestion I must
take the blame. / hacked a step in the rock ! l It
was very hard work, but that upper lip to the step
had to go, and Hastings's ice-axe, being an extra-
ordinary one, performed its work admirably, and
without damage to anything else than the rock. I
then was able to get a much firmer foothold, and
getting across this 'bad step,' clambered up the
rock till I reached a spot where a capital hitch
could be got over a jutting pin of rock, and the rest
of the party followed. We then climbed out of the
ghyll on the left up some slabs of rock.

A few days later, Moss ghyll was again climbed
by a party led by J. Collier. They did not follow
our track to the left after the overhanging rock had
been passed, but climbed straight up, using a crack
which looks almost impossible from below, thus
adding an extra piece of splendid climbing to this
expedition.

1 During climbing in ice and snow one is allowed, in fact, one is expected,
to cut steps. But it is held to be entirely contrary to the laws which
govern the great sport of mountaineering to make similar holes in rock.
This is remarkable, though nevertheless true.

260 PREHISTORIC CLIMBING NEAR

That Collier did not follow our route was, I be-
lieve, entirely due to Robinson, who, being so ex-
cessively delighted with having at last conquered
Moss ghyll, wrote a long account of it in the climb-
ing book at the inn, and being in this particular
instance far more capable of successfully climbing
Moss ghyll than describing how it was done, pro-
duced a tale where the points of the compass got,
so to speak, ' snarked.'

But to return to our climb : just as it was getting
dark we emerged on to the top of Scawfell. The
sun-god had plunged once more into the baths of
ocean, leaving behind him the golden splendour
of a perfect evening. In the far distance lay the
sea, with banks of sullen mist brooding over it ;
nearer, like a purple curtain, stretched the low hills
by the coast ; whilst far away in the south, towering
into the sunset glow, out of a level surface of sea
mists rose the peaks of Snowdon and the two
Carneddsiin Wales.

Towards the east, range after range of mountain
crests encompassed the horizon as far as the eye
could see, from the Yorkshire moors, with their
strong, massive outline crowned by Ingleboro and
Whernside, to Skiddaw and the Scotch hills beyond
the sands of the Solway.

Delicate pearl-grey shadows creep in amongst

WASTDALE HEAD 261

the wealth of interlacing mountain forms in the
clear air, deepening towards the far east into
the darkness of approaching night. No sound
breaks the stillness, all around are piled the tumbled
fragments of the hills, hoary with the memories of
forgotten years. The present fades away, and is
lost in the vast ocean of time ; a lifetime seems a
mere shadow in the presence of these changeless
hills. Slowly this inscrutable pageant passes, but
blacker grow the evening shadows ; naught remains
but the mists of the coming night, and darkness
soon will fall upon this lonely mountain-land.

' A land of old, upheaven from the abyss
By fire, to sink into the abyss again ;
Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt,
And the long mountains ended in a coast
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away
The phantom circle of a moaning sea.'

A REVERIE

' . . . Restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm

Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone,

But rush upon me thronging, and present

Times past.'

Milton.

On winter evenings, when out of doors the fogs
and dirt of London reign supreme, it is the wisest
course to sit at home in one's arm-chair, warmed
by the blaze of a comfortable fire, and with some
favourite book for a companion, to watch the smoke
curl upwards from one's pipe. But after a time
the book falls on to one's knees, and all sorts
and conditions of pictures float lazily through the
tobacco mists. I have been told that effects are
due to causes. Perhaps these undisciplined wander-
ings of my brain may be only the inevitable result
of a good dinner; perhaps the quiet content that
I feel may be caused only by a spirit of contra-
diction — a knowledge that the arm-chair and the
desultory visions of my brain should be ruthlessly
put aside, to give place to exact, well-regulated
thoughts concentrated on necessary labour. Be it
what it may, I will not work to-night. A nebulous

264 A REVERIE

peace of mind has claimed and absorbed me which
it would be impious to dispel. I shall let my
memory lift the curtain behind which lies the
past.

The thousand and one small duties of the pre-
sent, mostly absurd trivialities, the insignificance
of which is only equalled by their persistence, can
be neglected for once, and shall be as dust in the
balance, without weight to disturb the equipoise of
my mind. Letters from people I do not know,
requesting information on subjects that do not
concern me — letters which, as far as I can see,
merely stamp the writers as belonging to that class
of human animal incapable of thinking for itself —
these shall remain unanswered. Why should such
shallow creatures be allowed to worry the more
robust portion of the universe by their energetic
yet irritating display of letter- writing ? why have
I to spend much ink and thought in answering
them ? Truly this is a weary world ! Man is born
to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. Worries and
bothers are for ever at one's elbow.

But here I am thus early inveighing against the
petty annoyances of the present instead of enjoying
those reminiscences of former years that, viewed
through the mists of time, have their pleasures
enhanced and their pains discounted ; when I can

A REVERIE 265

allow my memory a free field from which it may
pick the fairest flowers that have blossomed in
those bygone years.

Ah ! a quotation comes wandering by : when it
is at home it may be found in an ' Ode to the
Terrestrial Globe/ by an unhappy wretch : —

1 It 's true my prospects all look blue —
But don't let that unsettle you !
Never you mind.

Roll on!' (It rolls on.)

And as it rolls on down the distances of my mind,
it leaves me, being in a very contrary frame of
mind, somewhat comforted. Moreover, it opens up
new channels for thought, and those exquisite lines
on golf that occur somewhere in Paradise Lost are
of course at once suggested, but I am too lazy to
find the context : —

' So eagerly with horrid voice the Fiend
Cries " Fore ! " as he o'er the far bunker drives
The errant ball ; it with the setting sun
Dropp'd from the zenith like a falling star,
Alas ! untruly urged, it lies in Hell.'

Then I muse over all the golf-courses that I have
played on or seen, from St. Andrews to an impro-
vised one above Astor amongst the stately pines
on the Himalayan mountains, when the snow peaks
and the glaciers, glistening in the marvellous sun-

266 A REVERIE

shine, play hide-and-seek with the white fleecy
clouds that drift over their summits.

Those wonderful mountains ! what magnificent
outlines, what grandeur, what mystery, what ! . . .
Stop ! can I be growing sentimental ? It must
have been the dinner that has produced this par-
ticular physiological sensation.

However, the sensation is passing, and my
thoughts have flown back naturally to the subject
of dinners. Yes, many dinners — what a subject !
— glorious, unapproachable, exhaustless dinners !
I could write pages, volumes, in praise of dinners ;
but not for the vulgar, not for the uninitiated —
that surely were sacrilege. Dinners that with
subtle and insinuating address came and went,
leaving behind them fascinating and precious
memories, even though ' good digestion did not
wait on appetite.' Dinners, too, eaten under the
stars. Yes, now I think of it, that was a dinner !
when four of us ate a whole sheep, after two weary
days and nights spent starving on the icy slopes
of Nanga Parbat.

Mountaineering, truly thou art a marvellous and
goodly provoker of hunger ! Those mortals who
may be in search of sensations — big, boisterous,
blustering sensations not to be denied — should
sacrifice often on thy altars, O Goddess of the Hills !

A REVERIE 267

In the mountains, however, these sensations,
these inspired ecstasies of mind and body, may-
be pushed sometimes rather far ; then the recoil
comes, and with it contrast, which however is often
agreeable. But these memories of unpleasant
Alpine half-hours grow faint as one sits in a satis-
fying arm-chair — they are easily discounted in a
process of mental dissipation, by which one cheats
oneself; and finally, it is easy to believe that there
is no sport like mountaineering. Of course this
conclusion is fallacious — conclusions sometimes are.
Again my thoughts are interrupted. Outside in
the cold, the rain, and the darkness some poor
wretch is making night hideous by attempting to
sing —

1 There is a 'appy land, for for awye.'

Most true ! most philosophical 1 The Islands of
the Blest usually are some distance away. We
have been told by the poet that neither are they
to be attained by omnibuses, nor to be approached

'A ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws.'

Therefore why disturb the darkness, O most miser-
able one, by dismal reiteration of a well-known
fact ? But still the song moans out its Cockney
dialect, false notes, and falser sentiment ; and the

268 A REVERIE

singer, drenched to the skin, possibly starving,
with probably only one desire, and that for drink,
goes his way. I hear the melancholy music die
into the distance. Of a truth his sensations cannot
be pleasant ; but with these few coppers changed
into the equivalent of alcohol perhaps he also may

1 Life's leaden metal into gold transmute,'

and cheat himself into the belief that life is worth
living. That last sentence, now I come to read it
over again, seems perhaps a trifle cynical ; seems,
certainly, but are we not told that things often
1 are not what they seem ' ? I have heard the late
poet laureate accused (and by a Scotchwoman,
too !) of writing slang.

'Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly towards the west.'

My thoughts, too, are ' sloping ' in a westerly
direction. I am on a personally-conducted tour —
my brain is in command, and I am the spectator.

If only I can forget that those letters have to be
answered, and if no other miserable wretch comes
to sing touching refrains outside in the rain, my
brain and I shall thoroughly enjoy each other's
company ; whilst the firelight sheds its dim ra-
diance over glimpses of the metamorphised past
and the indeterminable future, till all is so blended

A REVERIE 269

together that I cannot tell whether these things
have been or are to be.

I see long stretches of Rannoch moor as Stevenson
saw it, ' where the mists rise and die away, and
showed us that country lying as waste as the sea ;
only the moorfowl and the peewees crying upon
it, and far over to the east a herd of deer moving
like dots. Much of it is red with heather ; much
of the rest broken up with bogs and hags and
peaty pools ; some had been burnt black in a heath
fire ; and in another place there are quite a forest
of dead firs, standing like skeletons.'

Northward over the moor ponderous Ben Alder
lifts his bleak and barren top in massive strength
above lonely Loch Ericht, whilst beyond the loch,
Schehallion's slender summit, deep blue in the
evening sky, tells of that fierce day when the body
of the dead Graham lay on the hillside and the
sun went down on a lost cause.

Southward are the peaks of the Black Mount
and the peaceful hills that feed the upper waters
of Glen Lyon ; then Buchaille Etive and all those
wild, rocky mountains further west, dominating
wild Glencoe, stir the memory with the story of
how Campbell of Glen Lyon betrayed and murdered
the whole of the M'lans with treachery as black
as the cliffs of the Aonach Dubh and as cruel as

270 A REVERIE

the winter winds that sweep mercilessly across the
corries and pinnacles of Bidean nam Bian, the peak
of the storms. Or in imagination I follow Alan
Breck with Davie Balfour as they flee by the sea-
loch that separates Appin from Mamore up and
across to the great moor, toiling and resting, but
ever onward, till amongst the labyrinth of glens
in the heart of the forest of Ben Alder they found
Cluny Macpherson. Yes, Rannoch moor is wild
and desolate ; and could the grey blocks of stone
or the bare slabs of granite that lie amongst the
brown heather speak, surely there would be many
more tales of bygone adventures to listen to and
wonder over.

From Rannoch my mind wanders across the
stretches of blue water, past stormy Ardnamurchan
to the island of Mull. I am on the summit of Ben
More ; below lies a ridge smothered in snow and
ice. I am trying all I can with words of sweet
persuasion to entice my companion, Colin Phillip,
down what is obviously the shortest route to the
next peak, A Chioch. But he says it is impossible,
he will not trust himself on that slope of snow and
ice. Now my thoughts fly to the shores of Loch
Earn. I am listening to one, a geologist, who
expounds to me the marvels of the prehistoric
glacier ; he also, with words of sweet persuasion,

A REVERIE 271

is trying to make me believe that Loch Morar was
excavated by a glacier. Those wonderful geological
truths, how simple, how all-sufficient they are to
explain to the uninitiated the why and wherefore
of the ancient mountains ; but put not your trust
in them ; they suffer by the process of evolution,
and are changed. Without doubt, in those days
Phillip believed that I was totally ignorant of
mountaineering ; whilst now, perhaps, that geologist
thinks that I am equally ignorant of the truth.
Whether it is the truth about Loch Morar that I
mean, or about that geologist's statement, or about
my own, I really don't know.

In imagination I am hurried on ; I see myself,
footsore and weary, wandering through Ardgour
and Moidart, or across from Invercannich through
Amies wild glens down to Shiel House, by the
western sea; now I am glissading down Beinn
Alligin, or hacking my way through a cornice,
apparently hundreds of feet high, on Aonach Mor,
my companion Travers meanwhile slowly freezing
on the brink of an absolutely perpendicular ice
slope, the daylight waning, and our retreat cut off.
Then comes a glimpse of the platform at Kings-
house station. I am addressing winged words to
Colin Phillip, and he is engaged in a contentious
refutation of my argument. The subject is not at

272 A REVERIE

all interesting — only the comparative usefulness of
painting and photography as a means for repro-
ducing mountain form ; but the result is most
disgraceful, for presently we are seen sitting at
different ends of the platform waiting for the train,
and thinking — well, it doesn't matter what we
thought. Was it yesterday, or when, that all these
things happened ? Still it cannot be so very long
ago that Phillip climbed Sgurr Alasdair, the finest
peak of the Coolin in Skye. Would that on that
occasion, just below the summit, I had possessed a
camera, for then could I have shown Phillip that
photography at least was capable of very faithfully
reproducing his manly and superior form, as he
was seen approaching the cairn, even though it
might be useless in giving us the true proportions
of inferior mountains. Neither do I think that I
should be overstepping the bounds of prudence
should I assert that Colin Phillip has a marked
dislike for stone walls. I have hopes, however,
that some day a happy combination of the despised
camera — the stone wall and Phillip — may yield in-
teresting results. Little did Phillip think, that
evening at Kingshouse, that a time would come
when the maligned camera would turn — turn its
eye on Phillip and on that stone wall — and wink
with malicious pleasure.

A REVERIE 273

But in spite of winged words, weary feet, and
endless eggs and bacon, these were fine times —
from Sutherland to the Galloway Highlands, from
Mull to the mountains on Deeside, Colin Phillip
and I have wandered in fair weather and in foul.

We have waxed enthusiastic over the Cairngorm
mountains. We have watched the last light of day
fade far away over the Atlantic behind the islands
of the west ; and although we may have disagreed
in many things, yet we have always acknowledged
that for wild beauty, for colour, for atmospheric
effects and lonely grandeur, we know of no country
that is equal to the Highlands of Scotland.

But a younger century has arrived, and

' The old order changeth, yielding place to new.'

Somewhere have I seen some remarks about the
Coolin, where no mention is made of the moun-
tains as being capable of stirring the imagination
or gratifying the mind ; no, the subject was ' the
ridiculously easy nature of the climbing in Skye/
' the gabbro of the Coolin being too good,' and so
on, the New Mountaineer merely looking upon
these peaks and ribs of splintered rock as a useful
spot where gymnastic feats might be performed,
and even compares the Coolin unfavourably with
the decomposing granite slabs at the head of Glen

274 A REVERIE

Sannox. Truly the glory of the mountains is depart-
ing. The progressive, democratical l finger of the
1 New Mountaineer ' is laid with equal irreverence
and mockery on Sgurr nan Gillean and Cir Mhor,
and this spirit of irresponsible criticism ' fulfils itself
in many ways.' It is not the first time that the
Coolin have been ' slandered.' Have they not been
called ' inferior mountains ' ? [Modern Painters).
Now the climbers ' run ' over the Pinnacle Ridge
of Sgurr nan Gillean, and no doubt the next
generation (if they have wise fathers) will be in-
duced to take their maternal grandmothers up the
inaccessible summit of Sgurr Dearg. One by one
the recollections of all our most cherished climbs
will be punctured, flat and unprofitable as a col-
lapsed bicycle tire ; they will rotate over the rough
roads of bygone memories, whilst that progressive
democratical finger will guide the new nickel-plated,
pneumatic -cushioned, electrically -driven modern
mountaineer on his fascinating career. But to
return. I am still sitting in my comfortable arm-
chair, and looking at my own fingers to see whether
they possess a progressive democratical appearance.
Before me passes the vision of a mountain, a
beautiful, many-headed mountain, hidden away

1 ' They are still within the line of vulgarity, and are democratical
enemies of truth,' — Browne's Vul<j. Errours,

A REVERIE 275

from democratical enemies of mountaineering, and
without the line of vulgarity. Carefully enclosed
on its western face lies a corrie named Coire Mhic
Fhearchair. I see a party wandering up its glacier-
worn entrance. At its head the mist lies low
down, but not low enough to hide the precipices
that encircle the lochan in its centre. On the
right, snow-filled gullies sweep with graceful curves
from a dome- shaped peak.

But it is the rock escarpment at the back of the
corrie that fascinates their gaze. As the mists
begin to clear one by one, they suggest climbs on
its face, for there are 1250 feet of bare rock in
front of them, broken up into three distinct but-
tresses with two splendid gullies dividing them.
At last they choose the right-hand gully, and,
having roped themselves, proceed to cut steps up
the steep snow that has drifted into it and obliter-
ated any perpendicular pitches there may be. I
am sorry that there are no perpendicular pitches —
it is most unfortunate ; for I should like to see that
party performing all these daring feats so well
known to, and beloved by, the professional rock
climber. ' How things began to look rather blue.'
' How for a minute or two one of the party
remained spread-eagled on the face of a cliff
almost despairing of getting up, the desired crack

276 A REVERIE

being a good two feet out of reach, till, with a
supreme effort, he was propelled from below by a
sudden and powerful jerk, his outstretched fingers
seize the desired crack.' Nor can I describe how
' the heavy man of the party, his finger tips
playing upon the face of the cliff with the delicacy
of touch of a professional pianist, his every move-
ment suggestive of the bounding lightness of the
airy thistle-down,' followed. No, I am sorry I
have no such wildly exciting adventures to relate,
nor such poetical fancies wherewith to eke out a
plain story. I see that party merely climbing up
that gully, in a most uninteresting yet simple
manner, by cutting steps. They come to where it
ends against a perpendicular and overhanging cliff
at least a couple of hundred feet high. Only 200
feet, but higher they cannot go, for none of the
party are sufficiently muscular to propel the leader
with a jerk upwards that paltry 200 feet. There-
fore they climb out to their left, along a narrow
and somewhat broken ledge, on to the middle
buttress, where a place is found large enough for
them all to sit down. They gaze upwards at the last
300 feet that separate them from the summit, but
it is steep, very steep, 'A. P.' 1 Also, it is late in the
afternoon ; so they comfort themselves by building

1 Absolutely perpendicular.

A REVERIE 277

a cairn, and eating all these delicious things that
are so good on a mountain-side — meat sandwiches
which have remained from lunch, and taste so full
of mustard and so delightfully dry ; old, old prunes
encrusted with all kinds of additional nutriment
from the bottom of some one's pocket ; a much-
worn stick of chocolate, or perhaps an acidulated
drop — on such fare does the hardy mountaineer
feed. I see them once more in the gully, but they
descend more rapidly than they climbed up it, for
the more daring of the party glissade down the
lower part, and so home.

On the morrow, however, I see three of the party
again setting forth for that precipice. This time,
instead of approaching it from the north-west by
the Allt Toll a'Ghiubhais, they hire a 'machine,
and drive as far as the foot of Sgurr Ban on the
southern side ; then mounting to the peak just to
the west of Sgurr Ban by a well-made deer path,
they soon arrive at the summit of the middle but-
tress, overlooking Coire Mhic Fhearchair. They
climb out to the very end of the nose and look
down, straight below, and only 300 feet away is the
little cairn built on the preceding afternoon, but, as
I have remarked before, that 300 feet is very steep.
A photograph taken from the most southerly of the
three buttresses, so as to get the middle buttress

278 A REVERIE

in profile, shows the angle of the last 200 feet to
be about 85 degrees, not quite but very nearly
'A. P.' However, they think that they may as
well see how far they can descend. The rocks on
the left-hand (southern) side of the buttress are
obligingly broken up, so that by a series of small
climbs the party are enabled to get from one small
platform to the next, always edging towards the
outside of the buttress. At last they all congregate
together. A perpendicular slab, which has partly
come away from the front of the crags, bars their
way to the right, and, below, a quite perpendicular
drop of about 200 feet on to the ledge quietly
but firmly impresses on them the fact that
that way is not for them. But always in moun-
taineering, just as things become quite hopeless and
1 blue,' then it is the duty of the person who
describes the adventure to appeal to the feelings
of the public (who, presumably, are unacquainted
with that particular climb). It is his duty to
picture these unfortunate individuals, fearful that
their retreat is cut off, yet unable to proceed ; how,
having dangled on the ends of ropes, swinging
backwards and forwards in the breeze, they return
to the ledge bafffed ; or having climbed on each
other's shoulders, they find ' the desired crack two
good feet out of reach,' and there is not always one

A REVERIE 279

in the party powerful enough to ' propel ' the leader
'from below by a sudden and powerful jerk, so that
he can with outstretched fingers clutch that desired
crack.' But still, with a little imagination, we can
see these things. A good imagination is necessary,
I may say very necessary, to the enthusiastic
climber ; much pleasure is otherwise lost.

The party I see, evidently has none of this pre-
cious imagination. They are obviously wasting
their opportunities most shamefully on that rock
face. I see one of them climb out on to the face
just under the great loose slab, and disappear round
the corner; then the rest follow, and find them-
selves on the topmost of a series of ledges, and
about 200 feet above the small cairn below. I will
not describe that traverse, but will merely mention
that the party seem quite pleased with it. Then
they begin the descent. First they get down a
narrow slit between a slab and the buttress, and
with a drop of about 10 feet get into the next
ledge. Next they have to climb down another slab,
bulging over into space, or a perpendicular gully
gives them an interesting piece of climbing. About
120 feet from the bottom they build a small cairn,
and then, without much further difficulty, they
finally find themselves where they had ended their
climb on the afternoon of the day before. They do

280 A REVERIE

not, bowever, descend to the bottom of the gully,
but about half-way down, traversing out to the
left, they make for the ridge connecting Sail Mhor
with the rest of the mountain. It is now evening,
and I ought, if orthodox, here ' to burst out in
sentences which swell to paragraphs, and in para-
graphs which spread over pages ; to plunge into
ecstasies about infinite abysses and overpowering
splendours, to compare mountains to archangels,
lying down in eternal winding-sheets of snow, and
to convert them into allegories about man's highest
destinies and aspirations. This is good when it is
well done. Yet most humble writers will feel that
if they try to imitate Mr. E-uskin's eloquence, they
will pay the penalty of becoming ridiculous. It is
not every one who can with impunity compare Alps
to archangels.' 1 Yet there is always something
about sunsets which is horribly fascinating — from a
literary point of view ; it is so easy to become
suddenly enthusiastic and describe how ' The sun-
god once more plunges into the baths of ocean.' The
sea too is always useful at such moments. ' Banks
of sullen mist, brooding like a purple curtain,' etc.,
sounds well ; and one must not forget ' the shadows
of approaching night,' — they form a fitting back-
ground for the gloomy and introspective spirit which

1 The Playfjroxmd of Europe..— Leslie Stephen.

A REVERIE 281

ought to seize upon one at this particular psycho-
logical moment. ' The tumbled fragments of the
hills, hoary with memories of forgotten years,' come
next, with a vague suggestion of solitude, which
should be further emphasised by allusions to ' the
present fading away, and being lost in the vast
ocean of time, a lifetime being merely a shadow in
the presence of these changeless hills.' Then, to
end up, mass the whole together, and call it an
'inscrutable pageant'; pile on the shadows, which
must grow blacker and blacker, till ' naught remains
but the mists of the coming night and darkness ' ;
and if you have an appropriate quotation, put
it in !

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

To all ingeniously elaborate students in the most divine
mysteries of the oromaniacal quest : an account in which is set
forth the eminent secrets of the adcjrts ; whereunto is added a
perfect and fxdl discoverie of the way to attaine to the
Philosopher 's heavenly chaos.

' Whose noble practise doth them teach
To vaile their secrets wyth mystie speach.'

The Hunting of the Greene Lyon.

After that the three most respectable Travellers
and Searchers after vast protuberances of the earth,
in the land of the Caledones, had with haste,
joyousness, and precision arrived at those parts,
where with observation, snow-covered mountains
together with rocks and ice in abundance, and also
many other things may be perceived which com-
mend themselves to true worshippers of that most
mystagorical and delectable pursuit — the oromani-
acal Quest into the secret and hidden Mysteries of
sublime Mountains — they at once determined to so
haste, walk, run, climb, and otherwise betake them-
selves to the uppermost parts of the hills, that by
continual patience a new entrance towards the
topmost pinnacle should be discovered, which

283

284 THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

should in all respects yield that quintessential
pleasure they believed could be extracted from such
pursuit of the enigmatical Process.

There be, however, many who deny that the
Quintessence of the true enjoyment can so be
attained. These indeed do maintain that it resides
in that subtill art, the striking of a ball violently
with a stick, but this also is a mystery ; therefore
I will not launch my little skiff further into the
wide ocean of the dispute, neither will I argue
with such fellows, for do they not offend philo-
sophically, and therefore should be admonished to
the end that they meddle not with the Quest of
the true Brethren ?

Thou askest, Why ? I say thou hast not tasted of
these things ! Hast thou not tarried with those
that are below, or, ascending, hast thou not pro-
ceeded upwards by help of mules, jackasses, and
other auxiliaries, or even in these swift, luxurious
and delectable vehicles drawn by the demon of
water ten times heated in the furnace ? I bid thee
search that treasure-house of clouds, fountains, fogs,
and steep places on thine own ten toes, and
peradventure thou shalt find that which is above
resembleth not that which is beneath, neither are
the high places of the earth like unto the groves
and hedgerows, or the places where people do most

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 285

congregate, in towns, villages, courts, gardens, to
the end that they may hold discourse, spagyris-
ing, philosophising, lanternising, whereby is the
engendering of fools a most mystical matter
furthered — also the concocting of many poculations ;
truly these fellows are vulgar tosspots, they attaine
not the first Matter, nor the whole operation of the
Work ; neither do they approach to the enchanted
Treasure -House sought for by that worthy Quint-
essencer and most respectable Traveller, Master
Beroalde of fragrant and delectable memory. 1 Also
are these fellows most injurious to well-deserving
Philosophers, for they comprehend not the writings,
and through ' misunderstanding of the possibilities
of Nature do commit foul mistakes in their opera-
tions, and therefore reap a ridiculous harvest.' Our
Record is writ neither for simple, vulgar, and pitiful
sophisters, nor for such owls, bats, and night-birds,
who, blinded by the full light of the Quest lye
hidden in gloomy nooks, crannies, and holes below.
But return we to our purpose. When our three
travellers had arrived at that place in the north-
land, hight Castrum Guillelmi, they tarried there
awhile seeking diligently if perchance even in that
place the great Mysterie, the quintessential Pleasure
of devout Philosophers, could by searching be

1 The Spagyric Quest of Beroaldus Cosmopolita.

286 THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

attained. ' Good,' said they ; 'Now are we near the
Fulfilment, the Entrance into Secret Places, the
Consummation, the Marriage of the Impossible with
the Real, the Knowledge of this Mastery.' So it
came to pass that on the day following, early and
with great joyousness, did they start forth by the
straight road.

Nor did they issue forth unprepared, for they
bore with them the proper, peculiar, fit, exact, and
lawful insignia of the brotherhood, a mystic thread,
coiled even as the sable serpent, likewise staves
curiously shapen did they take in their hands, for
' perad venture,' said they, ' the way may be steep
and full of toil, the dangers many ; behold go we
not forth in a savage land, where liveth the white
dragon and eke basilisks, spoken of by the ingenious
J. J. Scheuchzerus, doctor of medicine, what time
he did wander in the far country of the Helvetii ?
Good, now come we to it ! for saith not Aristotle
in his Phy sicks, "Ab actionibus procedit speculatio,"
" Now are all things propitious, let us seek the
Delphinian oracle " ; Phoebus like unto the fiery
Dragon shines bravely, conquering the hydropical
vapours and transforming them into subtill aerial
sublimations ; soon shall we come to the high
places where abideth the great water the Lochan
Meal an't Suidhe. It shall we leave on the dexter

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 287

hand, for the path lieth not there but onwards,
straight without twist or turn along the valley at
the feet of the red Mountains, whose hue is
multiplied, transmuted, and purified even unto
seven times seven, a wonder to the sight, and
tincted by the ruddy colour of Sol the golden, what
time he goeth down at eventide, slavering the
deep waters of the western sea so that they be all
of a gore bloud.'

But let not these things turn us from the true
Quest, the hidden Mysteries, which in the opinion
of the vulgar rude are by many deemed nought but
delusions. For over against and opposite across
the valley, abideth the Immensity of greatness,
the majestic Silence, the prodigious Dampness, the
Depth, in shape like a great Dome, whereof the
base is in the Flouds and the Waters, whence
issueth forth delectable springs welling up for ever,
continually ascending yet ever flowing downwards ;
here perchance shall we find the Mysterie of the
heavenly Chaos, and the great Abyss, the way
to attaine to Happiness, even the quintessential
mystagorical Delight and oromaniacal Quest, so
highly extolled yet so deeply concealed by the true
Philosophers.

Thus did they fare onward toward the midst of
the valley placed between the red Hill and the

288 THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

£reat Mountain. Then behold before them rose
hugeous rocks and bulky stones standing on end
facing to the north where the ice and snow tarry
from one winter even unto the following ; for in
those places the sun shines not, neither are found
the comfortable, soft, juicy, and fceculent breezes
of the South ; there the brood of the black
Crow and the white smoak or vapour, and com-
prehensive congelations of the Mistus Scotorum are
produced. So were the Brethren sore amazed, but
as yet could not see even the first matter of the
Work.

' See/ said one, ' the way leadeth upward where
the Spirit arising like unto a volatisation, a
separation or sublimation or wind, has much
bewhited the mighty petrolific ridge full of points
towers and pinnacles. There the pursuit may be
pursued, there the volatisation which is an ascension
may be compleatly demonstrated, and the operation
of the great Work may be begun. First must we
fashion in the snow and ice great stairs of steps, by
aid of which, through prolongation, extension,
reduplication, and multiplication shall we be
brought on to the Ridge even at the beginning.'
So did they enter upon the Work in this lowest
period of obscurity, multiplying the steps in a
certain mystic manner which had been revealed to

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 289

them ; and it came to pass that they attained at
last on to the Ridge, whereon might be perceived
far above, towers, pinnacles, points, and other
pleasant places, suitable and useful for the further-
ance of the Quest.

First did they traverse a narrow edge of snow
fashioned by the wind. Then said one, ' Follow
me, but look not either to the right or to the left,
for there lyeth the Abyss.' So they followed him,
with the mystic thread fastened to their girdles.
They saw how that, far above, the heavens were
separated from the white snow, which was curled
and twisted, also falling, overhanging, and extended,
so that they could perceive no way whereby they
might pass through.

But above and beyond lay the summit of the
great Mountain, where clouds are concocted in the
natural furnace ; there also may be seen in the
proper season, ' The whole operation of the Sons of
Wisdom, the great Procession and the Genera-
tion of Storms, the Marriage of the Stars and the
Seven Circulations of the Elements/ So did they
fare onwards ; and by inspection were they aware
how others had travelled on the same way, for on
the stones and rocks were certain petrographical
scratchings and curious markings deeply graven
and very evident. But presently came they to a

290 THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

great Rock, a majestic Tower. Here were they
perforce compelled to depart to the right hand,
placing themselves in steep and perilous positions
on slopes of ice, which downwards seemed to end in
empty air, even in the great void.

Then were the Three exceeding joyful, for is it
not written in the secret books of the Brethren,
Many operations must they perform amidst the
great mountains and the snowy ice, especially
and creditably, ere they be so transmuted,
mystagorified and metagrabolised, that they may
be numbered with the True, the Pious, the Elect,
even amongst those who are considered worthy of
the most mystical and allegorical symbol, A.C., by
many variously interpreted. For some hold that it
signifies, ' Adepti Cragorum,' whilst others ' Ange-
lorum Confederate,' for these latter maintain that
the Quest can only be rightly pursued, or
satisfactorily continued, by the aid of wings ; but in
this matter they are deceived, and argue foolishly
after the wisdom of the flesh. Still all things
have an end at last — good Wine, Pinnacles, Spires,
cabalistic Emblems, and oromaniacal Wanderings,
even the green sauce of the Philosophers and the
pythagoric Mustard of the Great Master himself,
spoken of by Alcofribas Nasier in his merrie
work. So did the Three find the perilous passage

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 291

across the headlong steep of that ruinous place
finish.

Then did they pass onward to the Labyrinth, the
rocky chaos, and greatly did they marvel at the
exceeding steepness thereof; so that only by great
perseverance, turning now to the left and now to the
right, were they able to break themselves free from
the bonds and entanglements, and climb sagaciously
upwards to the summit of the great Tower.
Whereon did they find a heaped up accumulation
of stones curiously erected, a cabalistic Pyramid,
set there doubtless by a former seeker in the Work,
to the end that true searchers might not despair,
but continue the matter of the Work with fresh
hope and industry. But when they had gazed
for a short space, they perceived how that the
Consummation, the great Fulfilment, was nigh at
hand. Behind and far below, imprinted in the
snow, were the steps by which they had mounted
upwards, winding now this way, now that, looking
like scarce seen veins in whitest marble. But before
them lay the narrow Way, the Ridge, the Cleft, and
the White Slope, leading even unto the utmost
Height, the sovereign Summit of the mightie
Mountain. Thither therefore did their footsteps
trend.

First did they pass along the narrow Way,

292 THE ORO MANIACAL QUEST

treading witli exceeding care and exactness, for
there was but foothold for one alone ; the path
being no broader than a man's hand. Next did
they descend into the Cleft, which thing is also
emblematical and symbolical of the precious secret
of all Philosophies, for without this key can no
one unlock the Hermetic Garden, the Arcanum of
the Alchemists, spoken of by Paracelsus in his
Archidoxis.

Now before them stretched the white Slope,
which lay beneath the topmost summit, and steeper
became the path, going upwards with a great
steepness ; now whilst the three Travellers did toil
and seek, endeavouring to meet the perils of the
way, yet almost despairing, lo ! from out the clouds
a thread descended and a voice was heard afar off :
' Fear not, now have ye attained to the Consumma-
tion, enter into the mystagorical, quintessential, and
delectable Pleasure-House of devout Oromaniacs ! '

Thus therefore do the true Philosophers dis-
tinguish that which is superior from that which is
inferior, for it is a thing deeply concealed by the
envious, let therefore the same be thy subject to
work upon, thy first Basis, for the white must first
come out of the red, and black following with
multiplicative virtue rise above according to the
nature of all things. Hear then the meaning of

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 293

the four Degrees. Thy first Degree maketh to
sweat but gently. In the second much travail
folio weth, whereby thy sweat in crease th, whilst
tertius excedit et cum tolerantia laedit, for our way
ascendeth speedilie where the black rocks fall and
rise continually. Congelation and Circulation
cometh next, when in the fourth Degree the
blackness wears away, which, believe me, is a, gallant
sight. 'Then shalt thou see thy Matter appear,
shining, sparkling, and white even like to a most
glorious heaven- born Mercury the subject of
wonders. Then if thou art fortunate shall the
fumes cease and our congelation will glitter in-
comparably and wonderfully, and thickening more
and more it will sprout like the tender frost in a
most amiable lustre. Now thou needest no further
instruction, only this let me tell you, understand
this well, and you will not be amazed any longer
with the distinction of our Operations. For all is
but a successive action and passion of him who
seeks for the Work. Which carrying him up and
down like a wheel, returns thither whence it pro-
ceeded, and then beginneth again and turns so long
till it finds its rest So he thus attains a plusquam
perfection through the marvellous co-operation of
Art and Nature. ' 1

1 The First Gate. By the Chanou of Bridlington.

294 THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

Who knoweth not this in knowledge is blind,
He may forth wander as mist in the wind,
Wotting never with profit where to light,
Because he understands not our words aright.'

Therefore, with what joy, think you, did the
Three progress onward after ihe long and troub-
lous ascent ? After scrambling,

slipping,

gathering,

pulling,

talking,

pushing,

stepping,

lifting,

grumbling,

gasping,

anathem atising

looking,

scraping,

hoping,

hacking,

despairing,

bumping,

climbing,

jogging,

holding on,

overturning,

falling off,

hunting,

trying,

straddling,

puffing,

and at last

loosing,

attaining,

for know ye that by these methods alone are the
most divine Mysteries of the Quest reached.

So at last they came even unto the very topmost
Point, and were aware how that Priests from the
heavenly Temple, which is placed on the top of that
Mountain, had come forth to guide them, without

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 295

further difficulty, across a level plain of white snow
to the gates of the Temple itself. But the perils of
the way were not ended. At the threshold were
there many steps leading down and underground to
the Temple's innermost recesses, through a domed
vault or doorway built of the plastered snow.
Now were these steps both slippery and very
treacherous, having been fashioned in a truly
sopho-spagyric manner, likewise did they seem
reduplicated and multiplied even by the Pytha-
gorical Tetrad. Moreover, above the portal were
there magical characters engraven, even after the
same fashion as those seen by the wise Pantagruel
what time he sought the Oracle of the Bottle in
the land of Lanterns.

But beyond the portal a very thick mistie and
Cimmerian darkness, an eclipsation, apprehended
them, and the Three did stumble now this way and
now that, so did they greatly fear even at this very
end of their Quest, that beasts and creeping things
of monstrous shape awaited them, dangers far
worse than those on the steep places of the
Mountain.

' Art thou here ? ' said one. ' Prithee guide my
steps!' quoth another. 'Alas, we are undone!'
cried a third. ' Zoons, why are ye afraid ? '
answered a voice ; ' when ye have passed the three-

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

square ( Sorner and the Darkness ye are safe in the
Sanctum Sanctorum even of the Elect, in the
Philosopher's heavenly Chaos, where may ye under-
stand all Mysteries. But first answer ye me,
whence come ye?' 'From without and below.'
'And how?' ' By the seven -fold stairs nigh unto
the great Abyss where liveth the brood of the black
Crow, and the engendering of the Mistus Scotorum
proceedeth perpetually.' ' Good, but how did ye
proceed ? ' ' Thence came we by the rocky
Labyrinth, and by the perilous Passage to the
great Tower, and the mystic Pyramid, which is set
on the further side of the narrow Way and the
Cleft, emblematic of hidden things ; thence by the
white Slope to the topmost Summit. So have
we sought the divine mysteries of this great Quest
with much toil, so may we attaine to the Philo-
sopher's heavenly Chaos.'

Then said the voice, ' Enter into the abode of
Knowledge, through the open Entrance to the shut
Palace of the King, 1 into the outer chamber of the
most sophistical .Retreat of the Sons of Wisdom,
where are perpetually and endlessly produced
many reasonable meteorological prognostications ;
also divinations, concentrations, observations, and
conglomerations are recorded in divers registers,

1 Introitus apertus ad occlusum Regis palatium.

THE OROMANIACAL QUEST 297

all of them most deducible, for are they not stored
with great care in sundry leathern bags for the
delectation of wise men ? Thou hast been led as it
were by the hand through many a desert and waste
spot, now lift up your eyes and behold where you
are ; welcome into the garden of the Philosophers,
which is walled about with a very high wall.' So
were they shown by the dwellers in the Temple
many and marvellous wonders. In the centre stood
a furnace for all transmutations and agitations
by heat ; whilst on shelves did they see great
store of divers bottles, pans, boxes, and bags,
wherein could be found succulent sauces and
philosophical essences, to the end that the delec-
table concoctions of the pious might be com-
pleted.

Likewise great numbers of books. In some
could be found treatises of the true science, also
devices, hieroglyphic interpretations and perspicuous
renderings of great wisdom, in others histories of
joyous diversions. Also were there ' curious and
ingenious engines for all sorts of motions, where
were represented and imitated all articulate sounds
and letters, and conveyed in trunks and strange
lines and distances. Also helps for the sight
representing things afar off in the heavens and
remote places, as near, and making feigned

298 THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

distances.' 1 Likewise mathematical instruments,
exquisitely made, for the discovering of small and
minute bodies in the air. ' Also divices for
natural divination of tempests, great inundations,
temperatures of the yeare and diverse other
things." 2 Also were they shown many and
marvellous things pertaining to the harmony of the
heavenly spheres. Then did they drink the mixed
draught, the comfortable potation, joyously, philo-
sophically, and with discernment, for at last had
they attained to the divine Secrets of the
Philosophers, even unto the mystagorical Delight,
the great Fulfilment of the Spagyrick Quest of
devout Oromaniacs.

1 The New Atlantis. F. Bacon. 2 Ibid.

FRAGMENT FROM A LOST MS.,

PROBABLY BY ARISTOTLE, ENTITLED, irepl a6\t)TiKrj<i, /c.T.X.;

OR A TREATISE CONCERNING THE SPORTS AND PASTIMES OF

THE ATHENIAN YOUTH WITH REGARD TO THEIR ETHICAL

SIGNIFICANCE.

We come now to investigate the position of the
mountaineer, or climber of hills. Now, we may
rightly call him the true mountaineer or climber of
hills, who possesses the true love of mountain climb-
ing, which, being a mean between two extremes,
may be fitly termed a virtue. First, indeed, it is
right to call the love of mountain climbing an active
virtue, and not one of contemplation, for to no one
is the ascent of a hill possible by contemplation
alone ; still, the virtue of a mountain climber is for
a truth not wholly active, but is partly contempla-
tive, as we shall show further on.

Moreover, the love of hill climbing, like fortitude
or other virtues, has its defects, its mean, and its
excess. Now, as we have said, virtue being a
mean of which the extremes are the excess or the
deficiency, he who is defective in this matter is one
who either has not this love of climbing, or is in-

299

:m FRAGMENT FROM A LOST MS.

different in the matter; this man, indeed, is pitied
by the hill climber, and indeed may be called the
' irrational man.' Now by the 'irrational man' we
do not mean him who is unreasonable without
qualification, but rather the man who is possessed
of unreason from the point of view of the moun-
taineer, and truly amongst ' irrational men ' are
to be found the fathers of families, many learned men
and others. Moreover, the ' irrational man ' prefers
rather to ascend hills by means of the telescope, or
in a railway train, and if interrogated on the subject,
expresses great scorn for those who rise at midnight,
or in the early hours of the morning, for the pur-
pose of imperilling their lives on the end of a rope.
Again, he goes not to places where there are no
hostels, alleging that he likes to be comfortable and
enjoy himself. The scarcity of inns, however, in
mountainous countries is a matter which, in these
times, has in some few instances been remedied, for
we are credibly informed that on the topmost
summit of the lofty Mount Snowdon, in the Princi-
pality of Wales, an hostel exists, where the
' irrational man ' may find gratification for his baser
appetites, and perhaps may also at the same time
experience, in a limited manner, that happiness
which in its full degree is experienced by the true
lover of hill climbing, whom we may call the

FRAGMENT FROM A LOST MS. 301

'mountaineer.' 1 Further, the 'irrational man' is
inclined often to treat the adventures of the ' moun-
taineer' as travellers' tales, but in this respect he
is unable rightly to distinguish between the true
climber of hills and the ' pseudo-mountaineer ' who
haunts the smoking-rooms of certain hostels. This
man climbs, but in imagination only. He will
relate how he has ascended certain high and diffi-
cult, nay, even inaccessible peaks, and will brand
the names of many hills on staves, that when he
returns to his native land he may win much rever-
ence. But although the ' pseudo-mountaineer ' pre-
tends to greater things than he has accomplished,
and is, therefore, a depraved person, on the whole,
perhaps, he appears more a vain than a bad man, for
it is not for the sake of money that he would have
the unwary traveller and the people of his nation
believe his stories, but for the sake of honour and
glory, which in itself is praiseworthy.

Now both the 'pseudo-mountaineer' and the
' irrational man ' err by way of defect, being in-
different to the true joys of mountaineering. But
the ' mountaineer' is he who has this virtue in the
right measure. He delights not in climbing this

1 The great Lexicographer defines the word as ' an inhabitant of the
mountains, a savage, a freebooter, a rustick.' Can the word be here used
in this sense?

302 FRAGMENT FROM A LOST MS.

hill or that, but in climbing itself. He loves to
wander in mountainous lands; ascents of great
mountains, clad in frozen snow, to him are not un-
profitable. Mountain-huts ill-ventilated, nights
spent under rocks, amidst snow, wind, mist, or rain,
these things will he endure. Moreover, to help
him, will he even pay much money to the more
hardy inhabitants of the hills, who are able to
guide him with skill and safety through the in-
hospitable fastnesses, which he loves to explore.
Thus much knowledge will he gain, making
observations on the heights of hills, the efficacy
of meat lozenges, the movement of glaciers by
day, and the pv.Jex irritans by night. He is a
searcher after sensations. But when, owing to
misfortune, he finds that his desire for climbing is
in inverse ratio to his opportunity for so doing,
then will he spend his leisure hours in adorning
his maps with red lines, or he will write papers,
yea, even books, describing his former exploits,
so that perchance other ' mountaineers ' may
receive benefit therefrom.

But, as we have already said, the love of moun-
tain climbing, like fortitude and other virtues, has
its mean and its defect ; as to the mean, we have
seen that it is the virtue of the ' mountaineer,'
whilst the defect constitutes the habit of the

FRAGMENT FROM A LOST MS. 303

'pseudo mountaineer' and the 'irrational man.'
But the extreme is found in the man who has the
desire to climb hills out of all reason, therefore we
call him the ' oromaniac,' or he who is incontinent
in the matter. He it is who ascends hills on the
wrong side, and cares not to travel in the line of
least resistance ; also should he hear that a pinnacle
of rock is inaccessible, he is at once seized with a
great desire to climb that pinnacle. For he climbs
not mountains for the exercise, or the love of climb-
ing itself, but for the mere base desire to beat all
records or to outdo an enemy, or that he may see
his name blazoned in the local papers. And not
unfrequently do accidents befall such an one, and
he hurts himself grievously ; hence come those
accidents which we may call indefinite, for of this
kind of accident there is often no definite cause, for
the cause of it is casual, and that is indefinite.
Thus such an one may have fallen. Now if it was
not his intention so to do, and he either slipped or
was otherwise moved in a direction suddenly down-
wards, it happened accidentally. The accident,
therefore was generated, and is, but not so far as
itself is, but as something else is. Moreover, in
this kind of accident, as we have already stated, it
often happens that the ' oromaniac ' suffers many
woes ; breaking sometimes a limb, or, if still more

304 FRAGMENT FROM A LOST MS.

unfortunate, bis neck, or he suffers mutilation 1 in
respect to his garments. Again, accidents may be
called that "which is inherent to something, and of
which something may be truly asserted ; as for
instance, if any one going up one mountain in a mist
should, after much fatigue, find himself at the
summit of another, the ascent would be an accident
to him who climbs the mountain. Nor, if any one
climbs one mountain, does he for the most part
climb another. Accident is after another manner
denominated, that which essentially belongs — ' The
inseparable,' for instance, the mountains themselves.
Hence, indeed, it happens that accidents of this
kind are perpetual, which is not the case with any
others. Now concerning the love of mountain
climbing, and the excess and deficiency thereof, as
well as the mean which is also a virtue, and con-
cerning also accidents both separable and insepar-
able of mountain climbing, let this suffice.

1 Of the mutilated we have spoken elsewhere. ' A man is mutilated
when some part is taken away, and this not any part indifferently, but
which, when wholly taken away, cannot again be generated. Hence,
men that are bald are not mutilated.' — Metaphysics, Book v. chap, xxvii.

NOTES ON THE HIMALAYAN
MOUNTAINS

The great flood of the Indus in 1841 seems to have been one of
the most tremendous cataclysms recorded as having occurred
on the continent of India. The exact reason of it was for many
years unknown. Major Cunningham suggested that it was due
to the bursting of an ice-dammed lake on the Shayok river.
Major Becher seems, however, to have been the first who ex-
pressed a belief that it was caused by a landslip blocking the
Indus near Gor. In a letter (Journ. Asiat. Soc. Bengal, vol.
xxviii. p. 219) he writes that a mountain called Ultoo Kunn,
near Gor, owing to an earthquake, subsided into the valley of
the main Indus. Drew, in his book on Kashmir (p. 415), gives
the following description: 'The flood of 1841 was in this
wise. It occurred, as near as I can make out, in the beginning
of June of that year. At Atak, a place twelve or fifteen miles
below where the latitude-parallel of 34° crosses the Indus, the
river had been observed during several months, indeed from
December of the previous year onwards, to be unusually low ;
in the spring it had risen a little from the snow melting, but
only a little, so that at the end of May (when in ordinary years
the volume has greatly increased) it was still extraordinarily
low. This in itself should have been enough to warn the
people who dwelt by its banks, but so little was it thought of
that a portion of the Sikh army was encamped on the low plain
of Chach which bordered the river. One day in the beginning
of June, at two in the afternoon, the waters were seen by those
who were there encamped to be coming upon them, down the
various channels, and to be swelling out of these to overspread
the plain in a dark, muddy mass, which swept everything before
it. The camp was completely overwhelmed ; five hundred

306 NOTES ON THE

soldiers at once perished ; only those who were within near
reach of the hill-sides could hope for safety. Neither trees
nor houses could avail to keep those surprised in the plain out
of the power of the flood, for trees and houses themselves were
swept away ; every trace of cultivation was effaced ; and the
tents, the baggage, and the artillery, all were involved in
the ruin. The result was graphically described by a native
eye-witness, whose words were, " As a woman with a wet
towel sweeps away a legion of ants, so the river blotted out
the army of the Raja." ' Drew was probably the first to
actually visit the place where the block occurred. And a villager
from Gor pointed out to him the exact spot where the debris of
the landslip blocked the river. These floods seem to be of some-
what frequent occurrence. In 1 844 one came from the Tshkoman
valley above Gilgit. In 1858 another did great damage at
Xaushahra. The Indus at Attock (Atak) on 10th August was
very low. In the early morning it rose ten feet in two hours,
aud five hours later it had risen no less that fifty feet, and con-
tinued rising till it stood no less than ninety feet higher than in
the morning. It is probable that this flood came from the
Hunza valley.

Smaller floods in the narrow Himalayan valleys are of
frequent occurrence. For instance at Tashing, in 1850, a large
lake was formed in the Rupal nullah by the snout of the
Tashing glacier crossing the valley till it was jammed against
the rock wall on the opposite side, thus blocking the Rupal
torrent. Probably this will again happen, for when we were
there in 1895 the Tashing glacier had once more blocked the
valley to the depth of at least 200 feet, the Rupal stream
finding its way underneath the ice ; should this passage become
in any way stopped, a huge lake must at once form behind the
glacier.

The extreme narrowness, and often the great depth, of many
of these Himalayan valleys will always be favourable to the
production of these floods. Should a landslip occur, or should
a glacier, such as the Tashiug glacier, block the valley, a flood
must be the inevitable result. On the Indus there are many

HIMALAYAN MOUNTAINS

307

places where a dam might easily be formed. In the bend
underneath Haramosh, at Lechre under Nanga Parbat, or
further down below Chilas in that unknown country where the
Indus begins to flow in a southerly direction. For there on the
map the Indus is made to flow between two peaks, not three
miles apart : one is marked 16,942 feet, and the other 15,250
feet, thus making the depth of this ravine over 12,000 feet.

LIST OF SOME OF THE MOUNTAINS IN THE
HIMALAYA THAT AEE OVER 24,000 FEET IN HEIGHT

The following list of mountains that are more than 24,000 feet
has been taken from various maps. It gives most of the peaks
that have been trigonometrically measured, but probably there
are at least as many more in those great mountain ranges, the
Hindu Kush, the Mustagh, the Kuen Lun, and the Himalaya,
that are over 24,000 feet high.

The next highest peak in the world outside Asia is Acon-
cagua, 23,393 feet high.

Feet.
29,002
28,278
28,156
27,815
27,799
26,826
26,680
26,629
26,522
26,483
26,470
26,360
26,305
26,103
26,069
26,016
25,818
25,729
25,676

Devadhunga, Gaurisanka, or Mt. Everest, in Nepaul,

K 2 in the Mustagh range,

Kanchenjunga (1), north peak in Sikkim,

Kanchenjunga (2), south peak, .

Makalu, S.E. of Devadhunga,

Dhaolagiri (1), in Nepaul,

Unnamed peak N.W. of Katmandu,

Nanga Parbat, or Diama, in Kashmir,

Unnamed peak N. of Pokra Nepaul

K 1 in the Mustagh range,

Hidden peak in the Mustagh range,

Gusherbrum (1), in the Mustagh range,

Gosai Than, N.E. of Katmandu, .

Gusherbrum (2),

Unnamed, N. of Pokra Nepaul, .

Gusherbrum (3), .

Unnamed peak, N.W. Katmandu,

Masherbrurn (1), in the Mustagh range,

SOS NOTES ON THE

2o Nanda Devi ( I . In Kumaon,

Masherbrum (2), .

Nanga Parbal or Diama (2),

Rakipushi, in Kashmir,

Unnamed, X. of Hispar glacier, Mustagh range,
25 Unnamed, N. of Hispar glacier, .

Dbaolagiri (2),

llii Gamin, or Kamet, in Kumaon,

K'", in the Mnstagh range,

Boiohagurdaonas (1 >, N.W. of Hunza,
30 Jannu, in Sikkim,

K u in the Mustagh range,

Nubra peak (1), N. of Lei i, Mustagh range,

K c in the Mustagh range, Chogolisa peak,

Bride peak, Baltoro glacier, Mustagh range,
35 Dhaolagiri (3), .

Boiohagurdaonas (2),

Unnamed, N. of Pokra Nepaul, .

Nubra Peak (2), .

Tirach Mir (1), N. of Chitral Hindu Kuan,
40 Unnamed, near Rakipushi, Kashmir,

Muz Tagh Ata, Pamirs, .

Nanda Devi (2) (Nanda Kot), .

K 12 in the Mustagh range,

Tirich Mir (2), .
45 Unnamed, N. of Katmandu Nepaul,

Haramosh, near Gilgit Kashmir, .

Boiohagurdaonas (3),

Unnamed, S. of Devadhunga, Nepaul,

Kabru, in Sikkim,
50 Chumaliri, in Bhutan,

Aling Gangri, in Tibet, .

K 9 in the Mustagh range.

Foct.
25,661
26,660

25,550
25,503
25,493
26,468
25,448
25,415

2:>.37<>
25,304
25,210
25,183
25,119
25,110
25,095
25,050
24,780
24,698
24,611
24,470
24,400
24,379
24,352
24,343
24,313
24,270
24,044
24,020
24,015
24,000
24,000
24,000

LITERATURE DEALING WITH THE HIMALAYA

Bogle, G., Account of Tibet. Philosophical Transactions, No. 67,

part 2, and Annual Register, 1778.
Turner, Capt. S., Account of an Embassy to the Court of the

Teshoo Lama, in Tibet, 1 vol., 1806.

HIMALAYAN MOUNTAINS 309

Webb and Raper, Journey to explore the sources of the Ganges.

Asiatic Researches, vol. x.
Colebvooke, H., On the height of the Himala Mountains. Asiatic

Researches, vol. xi.
Moorcroft, W., Journey to the Lake Manasarowara. Asiatic

Researches, vol. xii.
Kirkpatrick, Col. W., An Account of the Kingdom of Nepaul,

1 vol, 1811.
Hamilton, Francis, M.D., An Account of the Kingdom of

Nepal, 1 vol., 1819.
Fraser, J. B., Tour through part of the Snowy Range of the

Himala Mountains, 1 vol, 1820.
Hodgson, B. H, Essays on Nepal and Tibet, etc, 2 vols, 1874 ;

also no less than 170 papers to various periodicals, chiefly

the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. Cp. Report

on the Mineralogical Survey of the Himala Mountains.

J. A. S. B. xi., part 1, p. x.
Vigne, G. T, Travels in Cashmir, Ladak, etc, 2 vols., 1835.
Thomson, T., M.D, Western Himalaya and Tibet, 1 vol, 1852.
Moorcroft, W. and G. Trebeck, Travels in the Himalayan

Provinces, etc., 2 vols., 1841.
Gerard, Capt. A., Account of Koonawur, in the Himalaya, 1 vol.,

1841.
Gerard and Lloyd, Tours in the Himalaya, 2 vols., 1840.
Cunningham, Sir A, Ladak, Physical, Statistical, and Historical,

1 vol., 1854.
Strachey, R., Physical Geography of Kumaon and Gurhwal and

the adjoining parts of Tibet. R. G. S. Journal, xxi., p. 57.
Strachey, Capt. H, Physical Geography of Western Tibet.

R. G. S. Journal, xxiii, p. 2, published separately, 1 vol.,

1854 ; also Journey to Lake Manasarowar, 1 vol., 1848.
\Mountaineer ' (Wilson), A Summer Ramble in the Himalayas

and Cashmere, 1 vol., 1860.
Hooker, Sir J. D., Himalayan Journals, 2 vols., 1854.
Saunders, Trelawny W., Sketch of the Mountains and River

Basins of India, in two maps, with explanatory memoirs.

Geographical Department, India Office, 1870.

310 THE HIMALAYAN MOUNTAINS

Gordon, Lieut.-Ool. T. E., The Roof of the World, 1 vol., 1876.

Wilson, Andrew, The Aborle of Snow, 1 vol., 1875.

Indian Alps and II ow we Crossed Them. By a Lady Pioneer,

1 vol., 1876.
Markham, Clements R., A Memoir on the Indian Surveys, 1

vol., 1871 ; 2nd ed., 1878.
Montgomerie, Major T. G., Reports on the Trans-Himalayan

Explorations, 1865-1867, 1869, and 1871 (Indian Survey).
Shaw, R., Visits to High Tartary, Yarkand, and Kashgar,

1 vol., 1871.
Torrens, Lieut.-Col. H. D., Travels in Ladak, Tartary, and

Kashmir, 1 vol., 1862.
Bellew, Dr. H. W., Kashmir and Kashgar, 1 vol., 1875.
Drew, F., Jummoo and Kashmir Territories, 1 vol., 1875.
Bogle, G., and T. Manning, Narratives of their Journeys to

Tibet and Lhasa, edited by Clements R. Markham, 1 vol.,

1876.
Godwin-Austen, Col. H. H., Royal Geographical Society Journal,

vol. xxxiv., p. 19.
Knight, Capt., Diary of a Pedestrian in Cashmere and Tibet,

1 vol., 1863.
Schlagintweit, H. and B., The Last Journeys and Death of

Adolph Schlagintweit, 1854.
Conway, Sir W. M., Climbing in the Karakoram Himalayas,

1 vol., 1894.
Knight, E. F., Where Three Empires Meet, 1 vol., 1893.
MacCormick, A. D., An Artist in the Himalayas, 1 vol., 1895.
Waddell, L. A., Among the Himalayas, 1 vol., 1899.
Younghusband, F. E., The Heart of a Continent, 1 vol., 1896.
Boeck, K., Indische Gletcherfahrten, 1900.
Deasy, H. H. P., In Tibet and Chinese Turkestan, 1 vol., 1901.
Durand, A., Making of a Frontier, 1 vol., 1900.
Holdich, Col. Sir T. H., Indian Borderland, 1 vol., 1901.
Bose, P. N., Glaciers of Kabru, 1 vol., 1901.
Workman, Mrs. F. B. and Dr. W. H., In the Ice- World of

Himalaya, 1 vol., 1900.

INDEX

A 21 . See Mount Monal.

A 22 , 17, 18.

Achill Island, cliffs of, 233.

A Chuilionn, 211. See Coolin Hills.

Alberta, Mount, 149.

Alps, The, mountaineering in, 165

et seq.
Assiniboine group of mountains, 143,

145.
Astor, 43, 123, 126.
Astor valley, road down, 126.
Athabasca pass, 144.
Avalanche of stones, 72.

Bagrot nullah explored, 20.
Baker, Mount, 140.
Balfour group of mountains, 144, 146.
Ball group of mountains, 143, 145.
Baltoro glacier ascended, 15, 21, 22.

survey of the, 15.

Bandipur, 32.

Baramula, 28.

Bear, red, 45, 62.

Been Keragh, 237, 240.

Ben Eighe, climb on, 274 et seq.

Ben Nevis, ascent of Tower Ridge of,

288 et seq. ; observatory on summit

of, 296.
Biafo glacier, 21, 24.
Blanc, Mont, ascent of, by Brenva

route, 175.
Bogle, G., Mission to Tibet, 8.
Boss, Emil, 17.
Bow range, 143.
Brandon, 237, 240.

Brown, Mount, 149.

Bruce, Major C. G., 20, 21, 23;

ascents near Chitral, 23 ; do. near

Hunza, 23 ; do. near Nagyr, 23 ;

do. of Ragee-Bogee peaks, 23 ;

meets us at Tashing, 68 ; returns

to Abbottabad, 81 ; climbing in the

Alps by, 178.
Buldar nullah, 123.
Bullock-Workman, Mount, ascent of,

24.
Dr. and Mrs., climbing in Ladak

and Suru by, 24.
Butesharon glacier, SO; pass, 81.
Bunar Post, 132.
Burzil or Dorikoon pass, 34.
Bush peak, 147.

C
Caher, 237, 240.
Camping, 154, 182.
Canada, size of, 136.
Carran Tuohill, 237, 239.
Chiche peak, 42 ; glacier, ascent of,

49.
Chilas, 26 ; road to, 127.

tribesmen, raids by, 40.

Chongra peaks, 43, 119, 123.

Choonjerma pass, 11.

Chorit, 36.

Collier, J., 253, 259.

Columbia group of mountains, 144,

148.

Mount, 148.

river, 141.

Connemara, the twelve Bens of, 236.
Conway, Sir W. Martin, mountain

exploration by, 20, 21, 23.
311

312

INDEX

Ooolin Sills, appearance and descrip-
tion of, 217 et* ... 234.
Ooomaoarrea, 241.

Cooniiicullcn, Lough, 241.

Croaghaun, 288.

Crystal peak aeoended, 21.

DakAHSBU Saddle climbed, 21.
Dashkin, 12:}.

Dasakaram needle ascended, 21.
Devadhunga, 9, 11, 12, 20, 24.

Dhaltai peaks, ascent of, 2.3.
Diama glacier, 116; pass, 116, 120.
Diamirai glacier explored, 62, 82.
nullah, 59; camp in, 61 ; return

to, 81 ; storm in, 111 ; upper camp

in, 83, 109, 113; leave, 116; last

visit to, 133.

pass crossed, 64.

peak, 88 ; view from slopes of,

91 ; summit of, 97 ; south-west

arete of, 100.
Dichil peak, 72, 123.
Divide, Great, 140, 142.
Doian, 126.
Dome peak, 148.
Donegal, 227.
Donkia pass, 12, 16.
Drew, 14.
Dunagiri, 16 ; attempted ascent of,

17.

Elias, Mount St., 136.
Everest. See Devadhunga.

Forbes Group of Mountains, 144,

147.
Forsyth, 213.
Fortress Lake pa<38, 144.
Fraser river, 140 ; canyon, 141.
Freshfield, D., Tour of Ranch enjunga,

24.
Mount, 147.

Ganalo mi. i. ah crossed, 118; glacier,

119 ; camp in, 119.

peak, 82, 116, 124.

Garhwal, 9.

Garwood, E., 24.

Gerard, Captain, ascents by, 11.

Gjeitgaljar, 192; ascent of, 204.

Glaciers, effect of, 190.

Godwin, Austen H. H., survey of

mountains by, 15.
Golden Throne, 22.
Goman Singh, 69 ; takes servants,

etc., over Mazeno La, 73, 117, 124.

pass, 89, 118.

Gonar peak, 118.

Goodsir group of mountains, 143, 145.

Gor, inhabitants of, 122.

Graham, W. W., ascents by, 16.

Guicho La, 17, 19.

Gurais, 34.

Gurdon, Capt. B. E. M., ascent near

Nagyr, 23.
Gusherbrum, 15.

Haramosh, 127.

Haramukh, 29.

Harkabir Thapa, 23, 178.

Harman, Capt., visits Donkia pass, 16.

Hart, H. C. , 226, 230.

Haskett-Smith, W. P., 247.

Hastings, G. , 27 ; arrives at Chiche
glacier camp, 56 ; returns to Rupal
nullah and Astor, 87 ; crosses
Mazeno La, 90 ; returns to Diamirai
nullah to search for Mummery, 122,
125, 175, 191, 247, 256.

Warren, frontier policy, 8.

Hatu Pir, view from, 127, 129.

Higraf Tind, 192 ; ascent of, 197.

Himalaya, peaks over 24,000 feet, 6,
307.

exclusion from, 7.

Mountaineering Club, 14.

Hindu Rush range, 26.

Hispar pass crossed, 21, 24.

INDEX

313

Hooker, Sir Joseph, Sikkim Journeys,
11.

group of mountains, 144.

Mount, 149.

Howse pass, 144.

Ibi-Gamix. See Kamet.

Imboden, Joseph, 16.

Indus valley, 127 ; heat in, 130.

Johnson, Dr., 50, 211 ; description of
Skye by, 212.

W. H., ascents by, 13.

Jonsong La crossed, 24.
Jubonu, 18 ; ascent of, 19.

K-, 15, 21, 22; seen from slopes of
Nanga Parbat, 71.

Kabru, 16, 18 ; ascent of, 19 ; ob-
jections to claimed ascent of, 19.

Kamet, attempted ascents of, 13, 16.

Kamri pass crossed, 34.

Kanchenjunga, 12, 16, 17, 18, 24.

Kang La, ascent of peak near, 19.

Karakoram range. See Mustagh ]
range.

pass, 13.

Kashmir, journey from Rawul Pindi
to, 28 ; valley of, 29.

Kauffmann, Ulrich, 17.

Kerry Hills, 237 et seq.

Khaghan, 23.

Kicking Horse pass, 143.

Kishnganga valley, description of,
33.

Kongra-Lama pass, 12.

Koser Gunge, ascent of, 24.

Kulu, 9.

Kumaon, 9.

Langstraxdtinber, ascent of, 195.
Laurence, W. R., description of
valley of Kashmir, 30.

Lechre, landslip blocks Indus at 26,

129.
Leo Porgyul, 11.
Liskom pass, 123.
Lofoten Islands, 185 ; fish trade of,

203 ; rain in the, 201 ; visits to the,

207 ; climate of, 187 ; scenery of,

189.
Logan, Mount, 136.
Lor Khan, 83, S9 ; accident to, 96 ;

109.
Louise lake, 145.
Lubar nullah, camp in, 79.

glacier, 59.

torrent, 107.

Lyell, Mount, 147.

Macgilliccddy's Reeks. See Kerry
Hills, 237.

Maelstrom, descripton of, 185.

Manning, T., Mission to Tibet, 8.

Markhor, 60.

Masherbrum, 15.

Mazeno La, 42; cross the, 57; cross
second time, 66 ; cross third time,
77 ; Bruce crosses the, 81 ; Hastings
crosses, 90.

peaks, 42.

M'Kinley, Mount, 136.

Monal, Mount, 16 ; ascent of, 17,
18.

Montgomerie, Capt. T. G., survey of
mountains by, 15.

Mosadlen, 192.

Moss ghyll, climb up, 256.

Mountains, description of Himalayan,
50 ; Canadian Rocky, 143. Lofoten
191 ; Scotch, 220 ; Irish, 226.

Muinmen - , A. F., 27 ; explores west-
ern face of Nanga Parbat, 82 ;
ascends Diamirai peak, 97 ; starts
for Bunar, 105 ; takes provisions up
rocks of Nanga Parbat, S3, 109 ;
spends night on rocks of Nanga
Parbat, 110, 114; starts for ascent
of Nanga Parbat, 113 ; starts for

314

INDEX

Diuna pass, 11G; probable fate of,
124 ; climbing in Alps, 174 ; climb-
ing mar Wafltdale Head, '24(1.

Muitit, 28.

Mustagfa range, view of, 91, L28,

pass, 22.

tower, description of, 21.

Nanda Devi, 12, 16, 17, 18.

Nanga Parbat, 26 ; view of from
Kamri pass, 34 ; glacier, 45 ; south
face, view of, 47 ; western face,
view of, 61 ; Mummery explores
western face, S2 ; provisions left
on, 83 ; climbing on, 83 ; aval-
anches on, 83, 111, 114, 124, 133;
attempted ascent of , 114; northern
face of, 120.

Nepaul, enormous peaks north of,
L2, 16.

Nicholson, A., derivation of the name
of the Coolin, 235.

Night out at 19,000 ft., 75.

Nun Kun peaks, 24, 29.

Nushik La crossed, 21.

Ottertail Range, 143.

Pennant, 213.

Phillip, Colin B., 233, 270, 273.
Pillar rock, climbing on, 251.
Pioneer peak, 20, 23.
Prairie, description of, 138.
Priestman, H., 191.
Pundim, 17, 19.
Punmah glacier, 15.

Ragee-Bogee Peaks ascended, 23.
Ragobir Thapa, 69, 82, 89, 113, 117,

124.
Rakiot nullah, 116; arrive in, 120;

explore, 121.

Rakiot glacier, 120.

peak, 42.

Rakipnshi, 127.

Ramghat, 127.

Rattn, 35.

Red pass, 118.

Robinson, J.W., 247, 255, 260.

Robson, description of Grampians
by, 214.

Rocky Mountains, Canadian, 135 ;
future of, 137 ; approach to, 138,
140 ; travelling in, 150 ; dense
forests on west side of, 156.

Rosamir, head coolie, 116.

Rulten, 192 ; attempted ascent of,
201.

Rupal nullah, arrival in, 38 ; descrip-
tion of, 41 ; journey up, 44.

peak, 42 ; glacier, 42.

Samayar Glacier, 21.
Schlagentweit, Adolf and Robert,

exploration of Himalaya, 12.
Screes, climb up the great gully of

the, 254.
Selkirk mountains, 142.
Sella, Signor V.,24.
Sgurr a'Ghreadaidh, climb on, 219.
Shallihuru glacier, 21.
Shandur pass, 35.
Sheep, price of, 59.
Shikara pass, 23.
Shikari, robbed by, 106.
Sickness, mountain, 11, 58, 98.
Siegfried Horn, ascent of, 24.
Simpson pass, 143.
Slieve League, climbing on, 230 ; sea

caves near, 231.
Slingsby, C, 247.
Solly, G., 252.
Spiti, 9.
i Stewart, Capt., 125.
Lieut. C. G., Chitral Relief

Expedition, 35.
i Swat country, peaks in, 60, 81.

INDEX

315

T
Tashing, 36, 40.

river crossed, 36.

glacier ascended, 70; descended,

72.
Temple group mountains, 143, 145.
Thompson pass, 144.
Thosho pass, 39 ; peak, 42.
Tirich Mir, 26 ; seen from slopes of

Nanga Parbat, 81.
Tragbal or Raj Diangan pass, 33.
Travers, M. W., 271.
Trisuli peaks, 17.
Trold Fjord, 199, 205.
Troldfjordvatn, 199, 205.
Tunkra pass, 12.

Wapta Range, 144, 146.

Wastdale Head, climbing near, 245

et seq.
Wicklow Mountains, 229, 242.
Woolar lake, description of, 31 ;

storm on, 32.
Woolley, H., 191.

Younghusband, Captain F., climb
with Major Bruce, 23.

Vaage Kallen, 192.
Vermilion pass, 143.

Zaipur, 36.
Zurbriggen, M., 20, 24.

Edinburgh : Printed by T. and A. Constable

Now Ready.

In One Volwne, Royal Bvo, toith Illustrations, price 36s. net.

THE ALPS IN 1864

A PRIVATE JOURNAL

By A. W. MOORE
Edited By ALEX. B. W. KENNEDY, LL.D., F.R.S.

M KM HER OF THE ALPINE CLUB

MoorkV privately printed Journal of 1864 has long been one of the
rarest and most coveted books of Alpine adventure. The Author was
a climber of marvellous energy, and climbed, for the pure pleasure of
climbing, in days when the Alps were not 'hung in chains,' and when
v irgin peaks and passes still remained in comparative plenty. Few of
his contemporaries had so wide a knowledge of the mountains as he had,
and few were able to make so many first ascents; while few, it may be
said without offence, spoke and wrote of their doings in so simple,
genial, and unaffected a fashion.

' The writer succeeds in bringing the actual conditions of the climb home to the
reader in a manner calculated at times almost to take his breath away. He makes one
believe that it would be possible to go and repeat the exact route merely from his
description. As we follow him over the ice-wall and along the aretes of the Ecrins,
through the hurricanes on the Dom, across the awful barrier of the Morning Pass, and
up the hanging glaciers of the Brenva, we feel as if we were ourselves standing amid the
snows and rocks of the Alpine giants as we sit in our arm-chair wailing till the return of
a summer holiday sends us once again to the happy hunting ground.' — Spectator.

' The work will prove not only a monument to the memory of a man of rare culture,
of great public capacity, and of unusual mountaineernig experience, but also a notable
addition to permanent Alpine literature.' — Birmingham Post.

' The keynote of the whole book is its frank, hearty, straightforward naturalness.
It breathes the very air of the mountains, and is instinct in every page with the spirit
of the true mountaineer.' — Birmingham Gazette.

' Contains a better collection of Alpine plates than we have ever before seen brought
together in a book. The volume would be worth buying for the plates alone.' — Times.

' One of the most vivid and fascinating books of Alpine travel which has ever been
written.'— Alpine Journal.

' Moore's book will be classed with the very best in its department of literature with
the works of Mummery and Mr. Whymper and Mr. Leslie Stephen.' — Glasgow Herald.

'Mr. Moore was an ardent and successful mountain climber, ' with a remarkable
topographical faculty and a retentive and accurate memory. He wrote in an easy style
with much descriptive power and quiet humour.'— Standard.

In Preparation, One Volume, with Illustrations

A Book on Climbing in Norway

with chapters on the physical features, etc., of the country.

By WM. CECIL SLINGSBY.

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