Narrative of a Journey to the Summit of Mont BlancHoward, William
History
Narrative of a Journey to the Summit of Mont Blanc
Howard, William
Blanc, Mont (France and Italy); Mountaineering
but I am very certain he could not perform the same feat on Mont
Blanc. It is remarkable, that a few seconds rest was sufficient to
restore both our strength and breath. One of our guides, a robust man,
who had been once on the summit, was so much incommoded, that we were
compelled to leave him behind to await our return. I experienced some
inconvenience from a slight degree of nausea and head-ache, of which
most of those, who have made this journey have complained. When
ascending Ætna, two months before, I had been seriously affected both
by a difficulty of breathing, and by a violent thumping of the heart
and arteries, which was loud enough to be easily heard by my
companions, and which the slightest exertion was sufficient to
excite. In the present instance I dreaded these effects, and had
already begun to feel them in an uncomfortable degree; but was almost
entirely relieved by drinking plentifully of vinegar and water, with
which our guides, to whom experience had taught its utility, had taken
care to be well provided. This drink was extremely agreeable to us;
wine on the contrary, disgusted us. All the water we had, we had
brought from the rock at which we slept, where we had carefully
collected it from the cracks of the ice: for we were now in the region
of eternal ice, where rain never falls, and where the utmost power of
the midsummer sun can only soften, in a slight degree, the surface of
the snow.
The acclivity we were now ascending, was steeper than any we had
before encountered, so much so that we could only accomplish it by a
zigzag path, advancing not more than a few feet every 20 or 30 yards
we walked. To have an idea of our situation, you must imagine us
marching in single file on the steep mountain side, placing with the
greatest care our feet in the steps, which the hardness of the snow
rendered it necessary for our leader to cut with an axe, supporting
ourselves with our poles against the upper side of the slope, and
having on the other side, the same rapid slope terminating below in a
precipice several hundred feet in height, over which we saw rapidly
hurried all the small pieces of ice, that we loosened with our feet.
Our situation was similar to that of a person scaling the steep and
iced roof of a lofty house, and constantly liable, by an incautious
step, to be suddenly precipitated over the eaves. After we had been
proceeding in this manner for some time, I looked down on the Plateau
beneath, for the guide we had left, and when at last I discerned him,
like a speck on the snow, my head began to grow dizzy at the idea of
the distance below me, and I was forced to keep my head averted from
this side, to recover from this disagreeable feeling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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