My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus (1895)/Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII.
DYCH TAU.
Though the faithful climber is, in his essence, a thoroughly domesticated man and rarely strays from his own home, the Alps, a spirit of unrest occasionally takes hold upon him and drives him forth to more distant regions. Seized with such a fit of wandering, the first days of July, 1888, found me camped on the right bank of the Bezingi glacier, where, in the cool air of the snow fields, on slopes white with rhododendron and with the silent unclimbed peaks above, I could rest from the rattle and roar of trains, the noise of buffets and the persecutions of the Custom-houses.
My sole companion was Hainrich Zurfluh, of Meiringen. The experience of ten days' continuous travel, culminating in two and a half days on the peculiarly uncomfortable Tartar saddle—we had ridden from Patigorsk to Naltcik, and thence to Bezingi and the foot of the glacier—had sufficed to make him a confirmed pessimist. "Es gefällt mir nicht" was the burden of his song, and though this phrase may, perhaps, be regarded as summarising the conclusions of modern philosophy, it struck me that it was scarcely a fitting watchword for the mountaineer face to face with the hugest of unclimbed giants.
Our camp was of a most Spartan simplicity, for we had outwalked our baggage, and Zurfluh's knapsack, which I had fondly imagined contained sleeping-bags and soup-tins, proved to be mainly tilled with a great pot of most evil-smelling boot grease—brought with much labour all the way from Meiringen—a large hammer, an excellent stock of hobnails and a sort of anvil to assist in their insertion. These various articles were doubtless of great value, but hardly useful as bedding, for, whatever may be the case with rose-leaves, a man need scarcely be a sybarite to object to crumpled hobnails as a mattress. Luckily various portions of a sheep, a large loaf of Russian bread, and a load of firewood had been piled on an active native whom we had met and appropriated before leaving the rest of our caravan.
The night proved remarkably cold, and we were glad to turn out at 4 a.m. and start on a preliminary examination of our peak. I soon discovered, however, that Zurfluh had more ambitious views, and was possessed of the wild idea of taking a mountain 17,054 feet high, as a training walk! It was, however, desirable to see what lay behind the Misses glacier, so I limited my protests and followed the rapid advance of my leader. We kept up a long couloir which was separated from the Misses glacier by a low ridge of rock. Reaching its head we ought to have crossed over on to the glacier, but we disliked the long snow slopes leading up to the ridge amongst which we thought, I believe erroneously, that we detected the sheen of ice. In consequence, we kept up the rocks to our left, and, about eight o'clock, reached a point where it was, perhaps, possible to traverse on to the great slope, but the whizz of the train was still in my ears and the limpness of English life still ached in my muscles, and I failed to give my leader the moral support that was needed. He looked at the traverse and did not quite care for its appearance. He looked at the slope above and thought it very long. He gazed at the ridge leading to the summit and denounced it as interminable. A confident Herr and he would have hurled himself at the difficulties, and his great skill, quickness and strength would, I verily believe, have enabled us to reach the summit; but for the nonce I adopted the destructive rôle of critic. I pointed out that it was already late, that a night on the ridge would be chilly and that the traverse and the slope beyond had every appearance of being stone swept. My mind, however, was as flabby as my muscles, and instead of declaring for a prompt and 
Dych Tau.
On the way back we glissaded the couloir, spinning down a thousand feet or more in a single slide. A few weeks later when Messrs. Woolley, Holder, and Cockin reached the Misses kosh, the Caucasian sun had stripped almost every atom of snow from this gully.
We found to our sorrow that the camp had not yet arrived, and a second cold and comfortless night ensued. The next morning, as a consequence, Zurfluh was too unwell to start, so with the energy of an amateur I explored the approaches to the southern face of the mountain. In the course of my solitary wander I scared a herd of seventeen Tur, and subsequently reached the extreme south-western buttress of the peak, a point almost worthy of a distinctive title, as it is separated from the mass of the mountain by a broad col, and is only to be reached by a long and not wholly easy ridge. Its height is about 13,500 feet, or possibly more, and one looks over the Zanner pass into Suanetia and across the Shkara pass to the mountains on the further side of the Dych Su glacier. The face of Dych Tau, however, had all my attention. The peak seen from this side has two summits, and I found it quite impossible to decide which was the higher, the great tower to the right and apparently behind the main mass of the mountain looking as if it might be the culminating point. This doubt, and the fact that much snow was still lying on the huge rock face, determined me to cross the passes I was anxious to see before attempting the ascent, so that by distant views the doubt as to the true summit might be settled, and by the lapse of time and the Caucasian sun the snow might be, in a measure, melted from the rocks. On my return to the Misses kosh I found that fortune was smiling on me, the camp had arrived and Zurfluh was once more ready for work.
The next two weeks were devoted to excursions in the valleys of Balkar, Suanetia, the Bashil Su, and Chegem.[1] Returning from the latter by a grass pass to Tubeneli, we once more made our way toward the Bezingi glacier. Near the foot of this latter a thick and wetting mist, combined with the offer of new milk, induced us to halt at a cow kosh and we pitched our tent by the side of a great boulder. During the night a goat mistook the tent for a stone and jumped off the boulder on to the top of it, subsiding amongst its startled inmates. Though I am quite willing to guarantee the behaviour of this make of tent on an exposed ledge in a gale of wind, it must he admitted that it is wholly unequal to the attack of a daring goat. After many efforts Zurfluh and I succeeded in extricating ourselves from the tangled débris and rebuilt our mansion, though, when morning dawned, it exhibited a miserably baggy and disreputable appearance. During breakfast our Tartar porter gave us to understand that a palatial kosh, replete with all the luxuries of life, was to be found on the left bank of the glacier nearly opposite the Misses kosh. The weather looked so threatening that Zurfluh urged me to go to this Capua of the mountains where, as he wisely said, we could wait till sufficiently fine weather set in for our great expedition. This seemed so excellent a proposition that we at once packed up the camp and started. Zurfluh and the Tartar soon began to exhibit symptoms of rivalry, and gradually lapsed into a walking match for the honour of their respective races, creeds, and foot-gear. I had no ambition to join, and the men quickly disappeared from sight. Injudiciously following some directions which Zurfluh had given me, and which he averred were faithful interpretations of the Tartar's remarks, I tried to get along the left moraine. This latter, heaped up against the cliffs and scored by deep water-channels, soon demonstrated Zurfluh's inefficiency as interpreter. After some trouble, not to say danger, I succeeded in reaching the glacier, and tramped merrily over its even surface. Before long, however, a thick mist settled into the valley and suggested the possibility that I might fail to find the kosh, for, unluckily, I had only the vaguest idea of its whereabouts. Fearing to miss it, I felt my way through some tangled crevasses to the left bank and explored a tenantless alp. Beneath a great boulder I found a most excellent cave. Where natural walls were lacking, it had been skilfully built in with stones, and the whole was roomy, clean, and dry. It undoubtedly affords the best shelter to be found anywhere above Bezingi. However, there were no sheep on the pasture and no sign of Zurfluh, shepherd, or porter, so I had to betake myself to the ice again, here crumpled and torn into the wildest confusion. After some protracted struggles and much hewing of steps I reached a second oasis. This likewise appeared tenantless, and I was beginning to think I should have to return to my previously discovered cave when, rounding a big rock, I heard the welcome bleating of sheep and walked almost into Zurfluh's arms. He had been much alarmed for my safety. Owing to more erroneous interpretation, he had gone considerably out of his way to take the séracs at exactly their. worst and most broken point. Believing this worst passage to be the only one practicable, he not unnaturally concluded that I should come to untold grief.
Having mutually relieved our anxieties, I asked Zurfluh to take me to the much vaunted kosh. We found at first some difficulty in locating it, but the shepherd came to our help and led us to a black mark against a perpendicular cliff; this black mark defined the place where he lit his fire on the rare occasions when he had any firewood. At the present moment, he explained, he had not got any. Other pretence of habitation or shelter there was none. Even our small tent which had formed part of the Tartar's load had disappeared, and the Tartar himself had vanished into space, Zurfluh, indeed, was inclined to think a crevasse his probable resting place, but my experience of his skill made me pretty confident that he had not chosen that particular method of joining the houris in Paradise. The misty rain pervaded everywhere; the lee side of the rocks was as wet as the weather side, and we gradually lapsed into that soddened condition which depresses the spirits even of the most cheerful. Moreover, we had depended on one or other of the active sheep we saw around us for our dinner; but the conversion of live sheep into cooked mutton is difficult in the absence of firing. We bitterly regretted the Misses kosh, where a Willesden canvas tent and a good store of wood were securely packed in the cave. I even suggested crossing, but Zurfluh absolutely refused to have anything more to do with the séracs while the fog lasted. An hour later, however, our mourning was turned into joy, for we beheld the broad shoulders of the hunter, buried beneath a pile of wood, struggling up the grass slope. He had, it seems, on learning that there was no wood, concealed his baggage in a dry hole under a stone and crossed to the Misses kosh to fetch our supply from thence. A bold and Kindly action, done without thought of reward, for men who had little or no claim upon him.
A lamb was promptly pursued and slain, and soon we were sitting round a roaring fire watching portions of the aforesaid lamb sizzling on long wooden spits. The contemplation of these succulent morsels shrined in a halo of dancing flame rapidly raised my spirits, and I regarded as inspired the hunter's favourable reply to my query as to the weather. Zurfluh, however, was not to be comforted; he repudiated my translation of "Yak shi," and cast bitter contempt on my efforts to speak the Tartar tongue.
The next morning his pessimism seemed justified, for the mist was thicker and wetter than ever. Yet the hunter still replied "Yak shi" to all inquiries, so, somewhat contrary to Zurfluh's wishes, the camp was packed, and about mid-day the hunter led us through the mist along an excellent path. The shepherd had also consented to join our party, so I had the rare and delightful privilege of walking unloaded. As we ascended, the source of Zurfluh's troubles on the previous day became obvious. The hunter had evidently wished him to ascend the glacier till beyond the séracs, and then to return to the kosh by the path we were now following. Zurfluh, however, recognising the fact that he was getting too far up the glacier, had turned to the right, and in the impenetrable fog forced the passage at the worst possible point. The hunter naturally refused to show the white feather before an unbeliever, and followed.
We walked past the séracs and reached the level glacier without difficulty. On the way across we picked up some fine horns—which had once belonged to a Tur—and which I believe now ornament Zurfluh's abode at Meiringen. After ascending the short slope that leads to the long level moraine which here forms the most convenient pathway, we halted whilst the hunter sought to rearrange his foot-gear. This latter was, however, hopelessly worn out by our previous expeditions, and the contemplation of his bleeding feet roused him to much wrath. Finally he chucked the débris of his hide sandals into a crevasse and expressed his intention of returning home. I confess he had reason on his side; I have known a moraine try the temper even of a well-shod member of the Alpine club, what then could be expected from a "poor benighted heathen"? We endeavoured to coax him forward, but he was obdurate to the most artful flattery—possibly because he could not understand a word we said. The suggestion, conveyed by appropriate gestures and an occasional word, that he would not be paid if he did not do the work merely elicited the reply, also expressed by gestures and a large mass of wholly unintelligible sound, that he did not at all expect to be. These conversational efforts proved unsatisfactory to all concerned and consumed much time. It was in consequence a good deal past four before the luggage was redistributed. Happily the mists were by now obviously clearing, and through rifts and rents we could see the long ridges of Shkara glittering in cloudless sunshine.
Quitting the moraine, we swung round to our left and began ascending interminable slopes of séracs and stones. The shepherd here took pity on my struggles, and seizing my knapsack, insisted on adding it to the vast pile of luggage he was carrying. Despite his burden, he was still able to show us the way and strode upwards, a splendid picture of muscle and perfect balance. About six o'clock we reached the highest point at which it appeared likely we should find water. Above, long slopes of snow and screes led up to the little glacier which hes below the col separating the peak from the great buttress I had climbed two or three weeks before.
We dug out the screes with our axes and made an excellent platform for the tent, then the fire was lit and we rejoiced over hot soup, English biscuits and Caucasian mutton. Before us was the great ice-embattled wall of Shkara and Janga, rising high into the warm tinted air, whilst below the silent glacier gloomed dark and cold, as the gathering mists of evening crawled slowly along its slopes. Behind our tent towered the great cliffs of Dych Tau. There is something in huge unclimbed peaks, especially when seen by the light of ebbing day, which is strangely solemn. Jest and joke are pushed aside as profanation, and one gazes on the tremendous cliffs with feelings closely akin to those with which the mediaeval pilgrim worshipped at some holy shrine. The lengthening shadows fell athwart its face and showed deep gullies and jagged ridges, ice-glazed rocks and vast pitiless slabs of unbroken granite. From crack to gully and gully to ridge we traced a way till it emerged on a great smooth precipitous face where, as Zurfluh piously remarked, we must hope that "Der liebe Gott wird uns etwas helfen." We watched the last flicker of sunlight play round its topmost crags, and then crept into the shelter of tent and sleeping bags. The hardier Tartar refused the proffered place beside us, and, having washed his head, his feet and hands, in due accordance with the ritual of his creed, laid down in the open beside a great rock (not impossibly the same as that beside which Messrs. Woolley, Holder, and Cockin camped a few weeks later). Zurfluh regarded these proceedings with much 
DYCH TAU FROM THE SOUTH.
At 1 a.m., Zurfltth, who had kept awake to bemoan the Tartar's slow and pitiable decease, crept out of the tent to investigate how this process was getting on. A few minutes later, with his teeth chattering, but none the less with real delight in face and voice, he told me that not merely was the Tartar still alive, but, bare feet and all, appeared to be enjoying a refreshing sleep! Zurfluh's mind relieved on this point, he engaged in a protracted struggle with the fire. The Bezingi wood always requires much coaxing, but at 1 a.m. it would try the patience of a saint and the skill of one of his Satanic majesty's most practised stokers. Unluckily the little stream, on which we had counted for a perennial supply of water, was frozen to its core, and the weary process of melting ice had to be undertaken. My boots were also frozen, and putting them on proved to be the most arduous and by far the most painful part of the expedition. However, these preliminary difficulties were at length overcome and we were able to rejoice over hot tea and biscuits in the warm shelter of the tent.
Soon after half-past,two we began the ascent and tramped steadily up the crisp snow to the little glacier. We crossed it, and ascended the slopes to the col by the route I had previously taken when on the way to the south-western buttress. Beaching this we turned sharply to the right, and, scrambling round one or two crumbling towers, were fairly launched on the face. Working upwards but bearing ever well to the right, we reached a shallow couloir still plastered in places by half-melted masses of snow. One of these, smitten by Zurfluh's axe, broke away bodily, striking me very severely on head, knee, and hand. Luckily I was almost close to him, but even so, for a minute or two, I scarcely knew what had happened. Had there been three or four of us on the rope the results could scarcely have failed to be serious. I am aware that two men are usually regarded as constituting too small a party for serious mountain work. None the less, on rotten rocks, or where much frozen snow loosely adheres to the ledges and projecting crags, it has advantages which, so far as I am able to judge, make it almost an ideal number.
Happily, five minutes' rest restored my scattered senses, and we quitted this ill-behaved gully, bearing still further to the right over disintegrated rocks and loose stones. Going fairly fast, we reached the great mass of red rock, referred to by Mr. Donkin as marking the limit of his and Mr. Dent's attempt, at 7 a.m. Without halting we still pushed on, bearing ever to the right in order to reach the smaller of two long couloirs that had been very conspicuous from our camp. This couloir runs up the face of the peak towards the south-western ridge in the near neighbourhood of the summit. Zurfluh had, the previous evening, diagnosed its contents as snow, and the rocks being mostly ice-glazed and distinctly difficult, we thought it desirable to reach it as soon as possible. When we at length gained its brink we saw at a glance that it was much steeper than we had imagined, and that, if I may be pardoned the Irishism, the snow was ice. In consequence we clung to the rocks as long as any sort of decent progress could be made, and it was only when each foot of advance was costing precious minutes that we turned into the gully.
Hypercritical climbers have occasionally suggested that I am in the habit of cutting steps rather wide apart. I only wish these cavillers could have seen Zurfluh's staircase. He has a peculiar habit of only cutting steps for the left foot, his right having the faculty of adhering firmly to absolutely smooth ice and enabling him by a combination of jump and wriggle to lift his left foot from one secure step to another six feet above it. He kindly showed me how it was done and urged me to imitate his procedure, pointing out the great saving of time thus rendered possible. Since, however, any trifling error would have resulted in an undue acquaintance with the glacier below, I preferred to cut intervening steps; even then it was a most arduous gymnastic exercise to climb from one to another. Happily, some twenty minutes of these violent athletics brought us to a point where we could quit the gully for the slope on our right. Hard, solid rock then led us merrily upwards to a great secondary ridge. This ridge divides the south face of the peak into two well-marked divisions, to the east is the great couloir which reaches from the col between the two summits to the very base of the mountain, and beyond are the interminable series of buttresses and gullies that stretch away towards Mishirgi Tau; whilst to the west is the less broken cliff reaching to the south-western ridge. We worked up the secondary ridge, now on one side, now on the other, till we were pulled up at the point where it bulges outwards and towers up into the great crag which, like the hand of some gigantic sun-dial, throws long shadows across the face of the mountain. It was evident that the work would now become very much more serious, so we halted and made a good meal. We packed the remainder of the provisions into the knapsack and stowed it away under a large stone.
After prospecting the cliff on our right, Zurfluh came to the conclusion that nothing could be done on that side. We therefore turned our attention to the rocks on our left, and were soon traversing a huge slab by the aid of various minute wrinkles and discolorations. Happily it soon became possible to turn upwards, and, trusting mainly to our finger tips and the sides of our boots, we forced our way back on to the ridge at the very top of the sun-dial projection. For a short distance it was almost horizontal and extraordinarily sharp. So much so, indeed, that we were fain to adopt the attitude much affected by foreign climbers in foreign prints, and progress was made on our hands whilst a leg was slung over each side as a sort of balancing pole. A gap fifteen feet deep separated this razor edge from the mass of the mountain beyond. Zurfluh jumped down on to a convenient bed of snow and cheerily went on his way. Shortly afterwards I reached the gap, and, as I fondly imagined, similarly jumped, but the bed of snow did not take the impact kindly and slid away into the little couloir on my left, a more or less breathless Herr being left clinging to a sort of banister of rock which projected from the gap. Happily this incident escaped the notice of the professional member of the party. I say happily, because the morale of the leader is frequently a plant of tender growth, and should be carefully shielded from all adverse influences.
We were now on the final peak. Gestola Tetnuld and Janga were well below us, and even the corniced ridge of Shkara did not look as if it could give us much. Unluckily, over this great ridge an evil-looking mass of cloud had gathered, and from time to time shreds and strips were torn from it and whirled across the intervening space by a furious southerly gale. Some of these shreds and strips sailed high over our heads, shutting out the welcome warmth of the sun; others less aerially inclined now and again got entangled in the ridges below, blotting out their jagged spires and warning us that at any moment the cliffs around might be veiled in impenetrable mist.
The wall immediately above was evidently very formidable. Though I sought to keep up an affectation of assured success, I was quite unable to see how any further advance was to be made. Zurfluh, however, is a man who rises to such emergencies, and is moreover an exceptionally brilliant rock climber. He proved equal to the occasion, and vowed by the immortal gods that we would not be baffled a second time. Whilst he was looking for the most desirable line of attack, I replied to the shouts of the shepherd who had climbed to the col early in the morning, and, greatly interested in our proceedings, had spent the rest of the day on that bleak spot in a biting and furious wind.
Zurfluh, after a careful survey, determined that we must again traverse to our left. We crawled along the face of the great cliff, clinging to outward shelving and most unsatisfactory ledges, till we reached a place where strenuous efforts just enabled us to lift ourselves over a sort of bulge. Above this the angle was less steep, and a few cracks and splinters enabled us to get reliable hold. A short distance further, however, a second and, if possible, nastier bulge appeared. After contemplating Zurfluh's graceful attitudes and listening to his gasps as he battled with the desperate difficulty, it was "borne in upon me"—as the Plymouth Brethren say—that the second peak in the Caucasus ought not to be climbed by an unroped party. Would it not be contrary to all the canons laid down for the guidance of youth and innocence in the Badminton and All England series? Might it not even be regarded as savouring of insult to our peak? I mildly suggested these fears to Zurfluh. He asked me whether I would come up for the rope or whether he should send the rope down to me. For some hidden reason a broad grin illuminated his face as he strongly recommended the former course, pointing out that the ledge on which I was huddled was not a convenient place for roping operations. Despite this advice I unhesitatingly decided on the latter alternative, and when the rope came down, successfully grappled with the difficulty of putting it on. And now a strange phenomenon must be recorded: a moment earlier I could have sworn before any court—and been glad to do it, provided the court was, as courts usually are, on level ground—that the cliff in front was absolutely perpendicular. Yet no sooner was the rope firmly attached than the cliff tilted backwards till it barely exceeded a beggarly sixty degrees!
We were now able to get round the square comer of the peak on to the face fronting the lower summit, and could look across to the ice-swept cliffs of Koshtantau. The gap between the two peaks was well below us—indeed, we were almost level with the lower summit. I had always had misgivings about this section of the ascent, and it was, therefore, with no small delight that I perceived a long crack up which a way could almost certainly be forced. Apart, however, from the accident of this crack or fault, I am not sure this wall could be ascended. With our elbows and backs against one side and our knees against the other, we worked our way quickly upwards. The lower peak sank rapidly, and the appearance of distant snows above its crest was hailed with triumphant shouts. Then Zurfluh dived into a dark hole behind a stone that had wedged itself in our narrow path, and desperate were the wriggles and squeezings necessary to push his body through the narrow aperture. Then we had to quit the crack for a yard or two and scramble up a great slab at its side. Once more we got back into our crack and on and ever upwards till at length we emerged on the ridge. On the ridge do I say? No; on the very summit itself. Every peak in Europe, Elbruz alone excepted, was below us, and from our watch-tower of 17,054 feet we gazed at the rolling world. Turning to the left, a few steps brought me to the culminating point, and I sat down on its shattered crest. Huge clouds were by now wrapping Shkara in an ever darkening mantle, and the long ridge of Janga was buried in dense, matted banks of vapour, white and brilliant above, but dark and evil along their ever lowering under-edges. Koshtantau shone in its snowy armour, white against black billows of heaped-up storm. Elbruz alone was clear and spotless, and its vastness made it look so close that Zurfluh laughed to scorn my statement that our passes from Mujal to the Bashil Su were between us and it. He maintained and still believes that Elbruz is situated close to Tiktengen, and I defy all the surveyors of the Holy Russian Empire to convince him of error. A yellow look about the snow suggested, it is true, considerable distance, but the huge size and height of the enormous mass so dwarfed the intervening space that I am not surprised at his mistake.
As I declined to give up my seat on the highest point, Zurfluh was constrained to build the cairn, on which his heart was set, on a point slightly lower. Under his fostering care this point grew and waxed strong till it proudly looked over the crest of its rival that, for the last few thousand years, had topped it by a foot. After three-quarters of an hour's halt the furious blasts of the hurricane made us quite willing to move, and at 11.30 a.m. we left the summit. We rattled down the crack, and got back on to the south face without much trouble. Then, however, I distinguished myself by losing the way, and was relegated to the nominally more important post of last man. Zurfluh with brilliant skill picked up the line of ledges and cracks by which we had ascended, and we duly reached the horizontal ridge. Elated by our success, we strode boldly along its narrow edge instead of adopting the undignified procedure of the morning. Shortly afterwards Zurfluh imitated my bad example and lost the right line of descent. We could see the rock by which our knapsack was securely stowed, and our footprints were on a small patch of snow just above the wall, but we could not discover the line by which we had connected these two points. Ultimately we were compelled to make a sensational descent by a tiny cleft or crack just wide enough for toes and fingers. Its lower end opened into space, and a long, sideways jump was requisite to reach footing. Zurfluh, aided by the rope, got across, and said he could catch and steady me as I came over. I have a keen remembrance of descending the crack, of leaning forwards and down as far as I could reach, and just being able to rest the point of my axe on a small excrescence; then leaning my weight upon it, I swung over sideways towards Zurfluh. An instant later he was clasping my knees with such devout enthusiasm that I felt like a holy prophet ejected from the shining mountain into the arms of some faithful devotee.
This practically ended our difficulties. A few minutes later we reached the knapsack and soon demolished its contents. Our porter was still sitting on the col watching us, and Zurfluh, mindful of the habits of the Swiss when in high places, averred that he would certainly have finished every scrap of provision in the camp. None the less we greeted his shouts with loud jodels and much triumphant brandishing of ice-axes. Our lunch being brought to a summary conclusion by the total exhaustion of the supplies, we stuffed the rope into the empty knapsack and turned once more to the descent. We got on rapidly till we reached the couloir. The ice was here so rotten, and much of it so ill-frozen to the rocks and underlying ice, and the whole gully was so obviously swept by falling stones, that we unanimously refused to follow our morning's track. My own impression is that, apart from other objections, even Zurfluh did not quite like descending the remarkable staircase by which we had scrambled up. Crossing the couloir we struck on to the rocks, and soon discovered some precipitous ice-glazed chimneys down which we managed to crawl. Regaining our route of the morning, we sped merrily downwards to the belt of red rocks. The summit of a new peak in one's pocket lends strength and swiftness even to the clumsy, and I shuffled after Zurfluh in most active fashion. Our porter soon came to the conclusion that the interest of the play was over, and we saw him pick himself up and go warily down the slopes. A little later, Zurfluh, perceiving that even a Herr could not go much astray, was seized with a desire to show the Tartar how easy slopes should be traversed, and dashed towards the col with the speed and graceful ease of the well-practised chamois hunter. When a man is being hopelessly outpaced by his companion, he always experiences great pleasure in seeing that same companion miss the easiest line of descent. This pleasure I experienced on seeing Zurfluh, after reaching the col, keep to the line by which we had come in the morning. My previous exploratory climb had made me aware of a convenient snow-filled gully in which an exceedingly rapid standing glissade was possible. Beaching this highway, I spun down to the little glacier. Having run across this, I sat myself comfortably on my hat, and slid down the long slopes almost into the tent, where Zurfluh was still busy emptying the snow from his pockets.
The porter met me with loud shouts of "Allah il Allah! Minghi Tau, Allah, Allah!"
We soon discovered that, instead of consuming the whole of our provisions, the porter had not even had a crust of bread. We urged him to take a preliminary lunch, or rather breakfast, while the soup was cooking, but he refused, and seemed in no hurry for dinner. He manipulated the fire with much skill, making the vile wood burn in a really creditable manner, and only pausing from his efforts to award me an occasional appreciative slap on the back. It being early, 4 p.m., Zurfluh expressed a strong desire to strike camp and descend; but the delights of the kosh did not rouse my enthusiasm, and I refused to move. Indeed, it is one of the great pleasures of Caucasian travelling that the weary tramp over screes, uneven glacier, the horrors of the moraine, and, too frequently, the reascent to the hotel, are unknown. A camp at one spot is practically as comfortable as at any other, and in consequence, so soon as one feels inclined to sit down and laze, the day's work is over and one postpones the screes and moraines to the sweet distance of to-morrow. It is, indeed, a rare delight to sit at one's ease in the early afternoon and gaze
at the huge cliffs amongst which one has been wandering, free from all the thought of hurry, of moraines, or of darkness.
Towards evening the gathering clouds burst in thunder, and the screes below us, right down to the glacier, were powdered with hail and snow. As the moon rose, however, the curtain was rent apart, and the great ridges, shining in the brilliant whiteness of fresh-fallen snow, gazed at us across the dark gulf of the Bezingi glacier. The evening, being windless, was comparatively warm, and it was nearly midnight before Zurfluh's peaceful slumbers were disturbed by the struggles of a shivering Herr with his sleeping bag.
The next morning we went down the glacier to the Misses kosh, packed up our belongings, and tramped to Tubeneli. Fresh stores had arrived from Naltcik and the old chief feasted us on chicken and cakes, but these delights failed to comfort the melancholy Zurfluh, and he flatly refused to do aught but return straight home. On Dych Tau the excitement of the climb had aroused all the vigour and strength he possessed, but now that the spurt was over he broke down completely. He was undoubtedly very poorly, and looked the mere ghost, and a most thin and melancholy ghost, of his former self. "Es gefällt mir nicht," may be good philosophy, but it undoubtedly tends to a pre-Raphaelite condition of body.
- ↑ Our experiences in these valleys and on these passes are described in the next chapter. It has appeared more convenient to describe my Dych Tau wanderings consecutively.
- ↑ Our camp was on the screes at a point one inch from the bottom, and one and three-quarter inches from the left side of the illustration opposite. We ascended to the snow col still further to the left, and then ascended the mountain diagonally to the great secondary ridge on the left of the long couloir lying between the two summits. Owing to great foreshortening our traverse of the face appears almost horizontal; in actual fact it was nearly a direct ascent. The same cause makes the slopes look materially less steep than they really are. Even the snow slopes in the immediate foreground are very steep.