Scrambles Amongst the Alps in the Years 1860-69Whymper, Edward
History
Scrambles Amongst the Alps in the Years 1860-69
Whymper, Edward
Alps -- Description and travel; Mountaineering -- Alps -- History -- 19th century; Mountaineers -- Biography; Whymper, Edward, 1840-1911
We halted for an hour, and then commenced the descent. It took us
nearly seven hours to come down to our rock, but I paid no heed to the
distance, and do not remember anything about it. When we got down we
made a discovery which affected us as much as the footprint in the sand
did Robinson Crusoe: a blue silk veil lay by our fireside. There was
but one solution—Macdonald had arrived, but where was he? We soon
packed our baggage, and tramped in the dusk, through the stony desert,
to Alefred, where we arrived about half-past nine. “Where is the
Englishman?” was the first question. He was gone to sleep at La Ville.
We passed that night in a hay-loft, and in the morning, after settling
with Sémiond, we posted down to catch Macdonald. We had already
determined on the plan of operation, which was to get him to join us,
return, and be independent of all guides, simply taking the best man we
could get as a porter. I set my heart on Giraud—a good fellow, with no
pretence, although in every respect up to the work. But we were
disappointed: he was obliged to go to Briançon.
The walk soon became exciting. The natives inquired the result of our
expedition, and common civility obliged us to stop. But I was afraid of
losing my man, for it was said he would wait only till ten o’clock, and
that time was near at hand. At last I dashed over the bridge—time from
Alefred an hour and a quarter—but a cantonnier stopped me, saying that
the Englishman had just started for La Bessée. I rushed after him,
turned angle after angle of the road, but could not see him: at last,
as I came round a corner, he was also just turning another, going very
fast. I shouted, and luckily he heard me. We returned, reprovisioned
ourselves at La Ville, and the same evening saw us passing our first
rock, en route for another. I have said we determined to take no guide,
but on passing La Pisse old Sémiond turned out and offered his
services. He went well, in spite of his years and disregard of truth.
“Why not take him?” said my friend. So we offered him a fifth of his
previous pay, and in a few seconds he closed with the offer, but this
time came in an inferior position—we were to lead, he to follow. Our
second follower was a youth of twenty-seven years, who was not all that
could be desired. He drank Reynaud’s wine, smoked our cigars, and
quietly secreted the provisions when we were nearly starving. Discovery
of his proceedings did not at all disconcert him, and he finished up by
getting several items added to our bill at La Ville, which, not a
little to his disgust, we disallowed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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