The Moine Ridge of the Verte
WE arrived at the Couvercle hut in an unspeakable temper, for we had crossed the Col des Cristaux in the blazing sun, and the soft snow on the glacier had been nearly thigh deep. We were wet; we were hot; we were hungry and altogether prepared to argue on any point from the use and abuse – especially the abuse – of the rope to the bitter question whether two hours on the top of the Col had been time enough for breakfast. Luckily, we had the hut to ourselves with the exception of the guardian, an extremely silent individual, who asked but two questions – ’ where we had come from? ’ ’ when and where we were going ? ’ To our frayed tempers he seemed to stress the ’when.’ After we had told him we were going to try the Verte by the Moine ridge, he looked even more solemn, remarked that we would never get on to the ridge, let alone to the summit, and that if we came across any bodies they would be the last party who had attempted it. With this cheery remark he lapsed into silence, and watched us broach and cook half a tin of pemmican. Pemmican has to be seen to be appreciated and tasted to be enjoyed; its smell when cold is its strong point, so that the guardian could not be tempted to venture upon a mug in spite of our assurances that after it he would want no further meal that night.
Scarce had we gone to bed when a solemn guardian, remarking that it was midnight, bade us arise. In a grim silence he watched us drink our tea and chew at our bread, and then escorted us off the premises.
We regretfully left him at 12.30 a.m. and, keeping well up under the ridge as it passes from the Verte to the Moine, crossed the glacier. In this way we met with but two crevasses of any size, and arrived at 2.30 at the great subsidiary buttress that the ridge sends down into the glacier. We took the gully on the left and kicked up to the bergschrund where the party, always unanimous, had a second breakfast.
The schrund was not easy. The leader stood on a pile of avalanche débris, fixed his axe in the upper slope and struggled. He then demanded a shoulder; putting the handle of the lantern in his mouth, he mounted on his second’s shoulders. Unfortunately he had got but one knee on the upper lip when he burnt his chin.
Having regained that coolness of body and mind necessary in a leader, he cut a step in the hard crust and took off on his second’s nose and pulled up. The second was more graceful in his effort, and in a few minutes we were manfully kicking up hard and steep snow. Half an hour of the snow and it became ice, and the angle seemed high; glazed rock barred the gully ahead, so that we were forced up a difficult chimney on the left wall. Here we met trouble, as we had excellent practice in the art of climbing narrow chimneys in heavy rucksacks. After half an hour’s profane delay we traversed back into the gully only to meet .html obstacle some 300 feet higher up. We then made the mistake of getting back on to the left wall; it was only after an hour and a half of difficult chimneys, where the second man gave shoulders and also used the rope in ways not mentioned in polite mountaineering society, that we arrived at the point where the subsidiary buttress abutted against the face, some 300 feet below the main ridge.
Traversing left over glazed slabs we hit a deep cleft which led directly to the ridge. Half way up this we were brought to a stand by a steep, exposed slab some 70 feet in length, up which V. N. led; at no point was it less difficult than Slanting Gully Slab Lliwedd, and was the bonne bouche of the climb. We thus came out upon the main ridge, where a casual glance at the communal watch showed us that if we wished to get within striking distance of our summit we should have to mend our pace.
Ahead of us we expected to find a sound ridge which Mummery describes as an excellent rock climb. As far as we could see it looked more like snow than rock. About every fifty feet an imposing gendarme stood manfully out of a thin unstable snow ridge. We climbed on a long rope and moved one at a time. The second would attach himself to a gendarme, and the leader would delicately pick his way across the snow to the next piece of rock. This was slow but entertaining; twice the leader took a shoulder to climb a gendarme, and, having played his second man round the steep glazed rocks at the base, doubled off the other side. As the ridge grew steeper the movement between the gendarmes became more difficult and the pace of the party, never fast, began to be inappreciable., The sun was hot; the snow was sticky, and gradually it became impressed on us that it would be a near thing if we got our peak. At 1.15 p.m.. the leader passed a rather more incoherent and steeper piece of snow and failed to find a good stand; we both together voiced our opinion that if we carried on up that ridge .html hour, we would spend the night out.
We lunched sorrowfully off a sardine, while we decided that turn we must, for we both were soaking from lying and wading in the wet snow, and a night high up would not be comfortable, if nothing worse. Although we were. well above Les Droites and only some 400 feet from our summit, it would have taken us at least an hour and a half in the condition of the rocks or, rather snow. We tossed for the privilege of imbibing the oil out of the tin, wriggled into our rucksacks, adjusted our wet clothes so as to touch in as few places as possible, and started down. We did not feel happy about it, so we quoted the classics on the subject to each other till we felt in a better frame of mind.
We had given a fair allowance of time for the descent, as we had expected to find the snow on the ridge requiring even more care, as it was now the hottest part of the afternoon. Twice the leader started incipient avalanches, but by keeping to the rule that one of the party should be on rock, we felt quite secure and, as it was, we were only compelled to move together on snow for a short 150 feet. However, apart from this, our flounderings of the morning seemed to have consolidated the ridge and, moving one at a time, we reached the top of the subsidiary buttress at 6.30. When we had doubled a rope over any and every pitch on the upper part of the buttress we entered the top of the couloir at 7 p.m. One glance convinced us that at that time of the day it was no place for a self- respecting party, so that we kept on down the buttress and, to our delight, found it easier than we had expected. At the foot there was no schrund, and we arrived on the glacier in the dark.
Mummery records that it took him only a few minutes from here to the Couvercle; but those were heroic days, or else the snow was in very different condition, for it took us an hour and a quarter stumbling in deep snow to reach the hut, even though we were buoyed up by visions of steaming pemmican. The Guardian, Simond, met us with a smile and seemed almost pleased to see us. He offered us a tinned ’ tunny ’ which we gratefully bought from him. It was a weird beast, but proved a welcome change from our pemmican. We lit our pipes, but woke up to find Simond leading us gently but firmly to bed.