Above the Snow Line quotes

We were accompanied by a porter of advanced years whose conversational powers were limited by an odd practice of carrying heavy parcels in his mouth. The day before he had carried up a large beam of wood for the camp fire in this manner.

I never met a man with so much jaw and so little talk.

He had apparently come out in order to practise himself for the mastication of the Saas mutton, for at the end of the day he would accept of nothing but a sum of two francs, for which I was very thankful.

and the memory of pleasure just toned with a trace of sadness is one of the most profound emotions that can stir the human heart.

Go on and climb the Alps ye that follow: nowhere else will you find the same pleasure.

But it is changed, and in this amusement the old [pg 28]fascination will never be quite the same to you.

The same man looking out with sun-scorched face from the salon window and the same click from the self-willed billiard balls on the uncertain table below. Ay, and the same unmistakable heartfelt greetings and handshakings at the door of the Monte Rosa.

Churlish indeed should we have been if we had sighed to think that we had met our warmest welcome at an inn.

isolated more than any ascetic, for his mental existence was that of a hermit, from circumstances and not from will.

The thought of solitary confinement is terrible, but utter mental isolation is hideous.

Yet, while he entertained us hospitably with fare which, though rough, was the very best he could offer, he would not join in the repast:

with wonderful, bony, plastic hands capable of expressing anything; grotesque almost in his unkempt rustiness; provoking a smile at first, but sadness as one learnt more of him. And how closely are the two emotions associated.

In truth Humour was born a twin, and her sister was christened Pathos.

I can recall that he accepted a sum of ten francs when we parted in the morning. His eyes glistened with pleasure as he took the coin and straightway made for a ramshackle hovel on the hill-side, where [pg 128]lay an aged person “très-malade.”

The timbers grew old and worn, the bands rusty, and one day the wheel which had worked steadily for so long stopped. Yet the stream which had moved it ran on as if nothing had happened.

Was it a wasted life? Who can say if there be such a thing?

We passed on:

… necessary for our peace of mind to accomplish something on the morrow, and as it really mattered but little what that something might be, provided a good climb was afforded, we must yield [pg 143]to circumstances and perforce adopt the latter-day necessity of all mountaineers.

If we could not find the right way up some new mountain we could at least take the wrong way up an old one.

So the next morning we walked up to the Pierre Pointue as a preliminary step—a good many and rather arduous steps—towards the object in view.

We journeyed together back to the Pierre Pointue, viewing each other with distrust and suspicion; and when it was found that we had bespoken the beds—if the exaggerated packing-cases lined with straw bags could be considered such—we parted on terms the reverse of friendly.

So frail are the links that bind human affections.

Standing in front of the hut was a type of character very familiar in these tourist-frequented districts. His exterior was unpromising; his beard of a fortnight’s growth, or thereabouts, somewhat fitful withal and lacking in uniformity of development.

And now I am painfully conscious of a glaring defect in this Alpine narrative.

A mountain ascent without a bergschrund is as tame as a steeplechase without a water jump, but candour compels the admission that no bergschrund was visible.

Either we had hit on a spot where the orthodox chasm was filled up for the time, or else this particular glacier was an exception to all others previously treated of in mountain literature.

The accident was in the highest degree unexpected: and the witness walked leisurely on as if nothing had happened. But in a few seconds came like a severe blow the sudden realisation of what had taken place.

Thought is not always quick.

We can no more exert our minds to their fullest capacity on a sudden than we can put forth our utmost physical strength on a sudden. Action when almost instantaneous is independent of the higher mental faculties, and is but a reflex.

For fifteen long years the Baron had lain immured, and had tried in vain to carry out all the sensational methods of escape ever suggesting themselves to his fertile brain.

At last an idea occurred to him. He opened the door and walked out.

By an intellectual effort of almost equal brilliancy and originality we solved the difficulty that beset us: we turned towards the south-east and walked quietly down the slope for a hundred feet or so. Simplicity of thought is characteristic of great minds.

He opened the door and walked out. By an intellectual effort of almost equal brilliancy and originality we solved the difficulty that beset us: we turned towards the south-east and walked quietly down the slope for a hundred feet or so.

Simplicity of thought is characteristic of great minds.

Why, nevertheless, it had not occurred to us before to escape by this line I can no more explain than I can give the reason why all the ladies in a concert-room smile, as one woman, when a singer of their own sex makes her …

Suddenly there came a sharp shout and cry; then a crash as a great slab of ice, falling from above, was dashed into pieces at our feet and leaped into the air; then a brief pause, and we knew not what would happen next.

Either the gully had been ascended or the guides had been pounded, and failure here might be failure altogether.

It is true that Hartley and I had urged the guides to find a way some little distance to the right of the line on which they were now working;

There for a moment I stood alone gazing down on Chamouni. The holiday dream of five years was accomplished; [pg 216]the Aiguille du Dru was climbed.

Where in the wide world will you find a sport able to yield pleasure like this?

Mountaineers are often asked, “What did you do when you got to the top?” With regard to this peak the same question has often been put to me, and I have often answered it, but, it must be confessed, always suppressing one or two facts.

A different estimate of the standard of veracity to be met with in this world is assumed when the remarks are favourable. Even so may it be, in some instances, with the mountains.

The prestige that clings to a maiden peak is like the bark on a wand: peel it off, and it cannot be replaced; the bough withers, and is cast to one side, its character permanently altered.

We would fain have rested that evening, but the edict went forth that festivities were to take place in honour of the ascent, and, to tell the truth, that evening was not the least fatiguing part of the whole affair.

to see again, as clear as in the reality, every ledge, every hand and foot-hold; to feel the fingers tingle and the muscles instinctively contract at the recollection of some tough scramble on rock or glacier?

The pleasures of the Alps endure long after the actual experience, and are but invested; whether the interest can be derived by any one but the actual investor is a matter for others to decide.

For my own part, I can only wish that any one could possibly derive a hundredth part of the pleasure in reading, that I have had in writing, of our adventures.

There is a pleasure, too, in this state. No one felt disposed to break the charm of thoughtfulness in the company by throwing on fresh fuel.

The fire had done its work, had helped matters on, had left things a little better than it found them—an epitome of a good and useful life.

The embers fell together at last, throwing up but a few short-lived sparks; nothing remained but the recollection of what had been once so bright, and a heap of ashes—a fit emblem;

Ask a dozen persons at haphazard who are staying at Chamouni where the Mont Buet is, and ten out of the number will be unable to answer you.

But the pictures hung on the line are not invariably the best in an exhibition; and the Mont Buet is a masterpiece, so to speak, “skied.”

Our party that summer at Chamouni was a large one, for we had stayed a long time in the hotel, and knew, as the phrase goes, a great many to speak to—quite a different thing to answering for them.

For a few moments I hesitated, but only for a few. Close by was a tower of rock, smooth and vertical, some twelve feet high—the height of two men, in fact. No handhold save on the top. This was but a simple matter.

Had any one else been with me, I should have stood on his shoulders; as it was I stood on my own head.

Thus I climbed to the summit of the pointed obelisk of rock. Exactly opposite, on the farther side of the cleft, was a similar rock cone, but the distance was too great to spring across.

“Who are these?” the old man inquires.

“Do you not see the number on their banner?” answers the youth; “they are the heroes of the forty-fifth section of the tenth branch of the northern division of the Savoy Alpine Club.”

“Ah!” the old man murmurs to himself, with a sigh of recollection, “I can remember that they were numerous even in my day.”

he comes of a curious race which, history relates, at one time much frequented these districts; but that was a great while ago—long before the monarchy was re-established. You do well to look at him; that is the last of the climbing Englishmen.

They always seem depressed when they have succeeded in achieving their ambition of the moment; it is a characteristic of their now almost extinct race.

”

But it is unnecessary. They will print a detailed and full description of their exploits.

It has all been said before, but so has everything else, I think.

”

Inexperience in the former instances at least could cause no harm, while ignorance of the elementary principles of moun[pg 325]taineering renders the climber a serious source of danger not only to himself but to others.

There is no royal road to the acquirement of mountaineering knowledge.

It is just as difficult to use the axe or alpenstock properly as the oar or the racquet; just as much patient, persevering practice is needed; but it is not on difficult expeditions that such inexperience can be best overcome.