Days Round the Susten Pass

By H. L. Stembridge

We foregathered at Meiringen, and for the best part of two days we slept, and lived on the fat of the land, while the heavens opened and it rained as though it would never stop.

On the first day we optimistically bought four days’ supply of food, intending to go up to the Gelmerhutte on the morrow, but by the end of the second day we talked of jettisoning the lot and of the advantages of sunbathing at Lugano. It is true we gazed at the waterfalls which surround Meiringen, floodlit in vivid greens, reds and blues, but the sight of more water left us completely languid, and even the gorge of the Aar r;p which we padded with water dripping down our necks, though impressive, did not induce us to linger. The sky was leaden, the clouds moved with exasperating majesty across the mountain sides with no thought of hurry and we retired to bed on Sunday with no hopes for the morrow.

Monday.—Through the bedroom window the clouds were still low on the hillside but, Lord be Praised, the rain had stopped. By eleven o’clock, when we boarded our car, the sun was actuaUy shining, and as we bade farewell to our host he assured us of a fine spell. Unlike most weather prophets he was right and we enjoyed almost two weeks of unbroken good weather.

We rode rapidly up the valley of the Aar in the direction of the Grimsel. Beyond Innertkirchen the valley narrows almost to a gorge, with mountain sides of appalling savagery, bald rock, steep slabs—holdless and overhanging like the tiles of a roof, and the farther we went the-; worse it seemed to get. With some relief therefore we reached the upper platform of the valley beyond Handeck and saw that it opened out slightly. The car stopped—we shouldered our heavy loads and left the road behind. For a week we were to see neither road, nor car, nor village.

How glorious is that first step on to the hillside, the first clear pool, the first movement off the track on to grass and flowers! The path struck steeply up the mountain side and we dropped into the familiar rhythmic pace of the hills. An hour’s march led us into a high side valley, dammed to form a huge lake, the Gelmersee, the edge of which we followed for some distance. If ever that overworked adjective ” stark ” could be truthfully applied it was to this place. The lowering sky, the dark dour waters of the lake, with the savage and splintered ridge of the Gelmerhorner reflected on its surface and the welter of shattered peaks ahead, all of naked rock almost without vegetation, gave to me, at any rate, feelings of remoteness and insignificance which did not recur during the whole holiday. Thousand foot chimneys, narrow and with no exit, led up towards the ridge of the Gelmerhorner, while at its foot a tangle of boulders fringed the water’s edge.

At the head of the lake our way lay up the left branch, the Diechtertal, which from a distance looked steep and slabby. As often happens it proved less steep on closer acquaintance and we ascended rapidly, keeping to the left bank of a stream which fell in cascades over a series of platforms and slabs. The Gelmerhutte stood high up on the eastern skyline, and as we approached along a track which was obviously little used, it appeared to be shuttered and empty. This proved to be the case and we spent a most comfortable night with the place to ourselves. Few huts can be more excellently fitted up, and we turned in full of the joy of life, while a sleety downpour out­side made us appreciate the more the comforts within. An easy day !

Tuesday.—A grand clear morning and the first view of the peaks across the Aar valley ! We could now appreciate the splendid position of the Hut. It faces the Gelmerhorn ridge where any amount of first class climbing is available, while behind the hut is a most extensive maze of snow fields and glaciers broken up by high ridges and covering an area of forty or fifty square miles. Southwards beyond the Aar the first rays of the sun caught the snows of the Finsteraarhorn and gradually tipped peak after peak, until finally the topmost rocks of the Gelmerhorn glowed in the light, and we felt it time to be on our way.

Our objective, the Trift hut, lay to the north-east beyond a long high ridge which completely barred our path. At its lowest point, the Diechterlimmi, its height was 10,702 feet, roughly 3,000 feet above the hut. We proposed to advance to this point, traverse northward along the ridge over the top of the Diechterhofn (11,183 feet) and descend on the far side to the Trift Glacier.

It was a glorious morning, and as we forsook the moraine the snow felt crisp and firm beneath our feet, and sped us along up easy slopes towards the pass. When the snow gave way to patches of ice and small crevasses had to be circum­vented, our pace declined somewhat, and when the angle of the slope steepened so that step cutting became necessary, the exhilarating air of the morning made that usually irksome operation an undiluted pleasure.

Our col lay ahead, to its left a rocky peak, the Diechterhorn, to its right a series of .ragged points interspersed with snowy cols. On the opposite side of the glacier to the north rose the Ofenhorn, a fine symmetrical peak, while looking back, we gazed down on the whole Gelmerhorn ridge, beyond which the giants of the Oberland shone, detached and magnificent.

We ate our second breakfast on the Diechterlimmi in a cool wind ; we did not linger but set off up the rocky and rather loose ridge which led towards the Diechterhorn. The first summit on the ridge was reached by the rocks, we avoided the second, traversing the snow slopes below it, and climbed the final summit firstly up steep snow and finally by the rocks. Continuing northwards the ridge narrowed and as the rocks fell away steeply on both sides it gave us some interesting moments.

From a patch of snow at the end of the ridge we took a beeline down the steep slopes towards the Trift Glacier. Ignoring the S.A.C. Guide, Roberts as usual took his own line, threading a masterly way through the crevassed portion and striking an icefall at its most vulnerable point.

It was now past midday, the glare and heat on the glacier were intense, the air sultry after the freshness of the heights, the going heavy. However the Trift Hut was only two or three miles down the glacier and in less than an hour we were dumping our sacks on the straw and making derogatory remarks about the washing up of the previous occupants. This hut too was empty when we arrived, and throughout the whole day we had seen no track of any description.

One of the greatest pleasures of life in the huts is the long hours of the late afternoon, when, basking on the sun-baked rocks, time slips by unnoticed and life becomes a very leisurely affair. The Trift Hut stands on a buttress poised above the terrific icefall which separates the upper from the lower Trift Glacier. Towards sunset a party of Swiss approached from the lower glacier, looking very weary after the long ascent. We turned in with some satisfaction on learning that they proposed to leave the hut before us next morning, as we hoped the embers of their fire would serve as the basis of our own.

At 4.10 a.m. when we were rudely awakened, the Swiss party were still cooking and not likely to be clear for some time. So we lit our own fire, left the hut at 5.15, and passed them as they were putting on crampons at the edge of the glacier. As we kept making contact with them throughout the morning it was interesting to weigh up the advantage or otherwise of crampons in that district. We came to the conclusion that any time which they saved on the steeper ndve above was more than balanced by the time lost when wearing them on the easier slopes below.

The gods were very good to us—another perfect morning— and as we left most of our gear at the hut we fairly raced up the three thousand feet to the Weissnollen Pass. The snow was of that splendid consistency which holds a firmly planted foot on a steep slope without the need for kicking or cutting. At eight o’clock we reached the Col, met the sunshine and ate a second breakfast.

We were now on the rim of a gigantic amphitheatre of snow, symmetrically proportioned, which was actually the source of the Rhone Glacier. We hoped for a three peak day on the Rhonestock (11,880 feet), the Dammastock (11,992 feet), and the Weissnollen (11,329 feet), all of which rose from the rim of the basin, the first two far away, the third close at hand. The sides of the basin were of smooth hard snow, and heading for the Rhonestock we were able to contour round at a great rate, traversing below the Dammastock and easily avoiding the large crevasses below its steep slopes.

The top part of the Rhonestock from the direction by which we approached was rather steep smooth neve and we intended to keep below the steepest part working gradually upwards till we struck the rocky south-east ridge, and to climb this until we could work oat on to the easy snow cap.

All went according to plan; after a bout of step cutting in hard snow we reached the ridge. The rocks though glazed proved easy, but were inclined to be loose and the face to the south above which we climbed seemed extremely steep. Once above the steepest part of the ice slope we left the rocks and started to cut steps up the snow again. Gradually the snow became thinner and we found ourselves cutting steps in ice— a slow process. We were still well below the summit and if the ice continued, to cut up the whole way would be a long job. Retracing our steps to the rock ridge we continued our climb up this and it obligingly led us to within a few yards of the top of the Rhonestock. The summit is a snqw dome with steep ice to the north-east, and excessively steep rock to both west and south.

Detached as these peaks are from the main mass of the Oberland, and with no intervening ranges to block the view we could see the Monte Rosa Group, the mountains surrounding Saas Fee, the peaks round Zermatt, as well as the giants of the Oberland from the Finsteraarhorn to the Wetterhorn. Below our feet we had a good bird’s-eye view of the Goschenental.

In normal conditions of snow it should not be difficult to descend the Rhonestock to the north and to make directly for the Dammastock. In the present icy conditions we descended by way of the same ridge which we had previously climbed, traversing then northwards to the top of the Damma Pass, from which it may be possible with great difficulty to get down to the Goschenental. The Dammastock lay ahead of us, a cone of broken rock. It was almost mid-day, the heat was intense and we munched our lunch in the grateful shadow of a large block.

In this isolated spot, bare rock surrounded by miles of snow fields, it was amazing to see several butterflies, similar to our common cabbage whites. Whether these frail creatures ascended to these heights every day, or whether they can withstand the freezing night temperatures is more than I can say.

We started the descent and soon found ourselves sinking deeply into soft snow. Although we could circle almost at a constant level round the northern rim of the snowfield, to cross the few kilometres which separated us from the top of the Weiss­nollen was going to be hard work. An hour’s steady plod brought us to the western rim overlooking the Weissnolien, which rises only a few hundred feet above the surrounding snowfield when approached from this side. A delicate snow arete curved in one beautiful sweep to the summit and although we felt some compunction at defiling its unsullied, purity it was the obvious way of ascent. The crest forms the rim of the basin—on the inside the slope was steep, and overhung by a tiny cornice, moreover it was soft and inclined to slide. The slope on the outside was too steep to be comfortable; as a matter of fact we could only see the top two or three feet of it, beyond which we gazed into space only limited by the Trift Glacier, three thousand feet below.

We found it a bit of a problem to advance along the narrow crest without putting a leg through the cornice and when finally the first man did go through we changed our tactics and traversed a few feet below the crest on the inside and so reached the summit. To ascend a secondary rock summit was a matter of minutes, and the early afternoon saw us plunging with Gargantuan strides down the steep slopes below the col following our tracks of the early morning. We got a good deal of pleasure out of that descent, sloshing with heels down and the weight full on the foremost leg, letting the soft snow absorb all jar.

By the time we had trudged down the Trift Glacier our thirst was beyond my descriptive powers, but we made a goodly brew on reaching the hut, and this, followed by a long bask on the rocks with the three peaks in our pocket brought to a close a very satisfying day. Two parties of two now shared the hut with us, one of which argued audibly long into the night.

Thursday.—A loud noise of the chopping of wood fairly made the rafters ring about an hour before we were due to wake, and we got up with that ” Why ever did we do it ? ” feeling. However a sniff outside at another perfect morning got rid of this feeling, and by five o’clock we were descending towards the lower Trift Glacier with Stein on the Susten Pass road as our destination.

For a few hundred feet the path descended very steeply and then ran level on the steep buttress of the Taltistock, providing us with a first class scramble. We wanted to get on to the Tierberg Glacier, a steep narrow branch running into the Trift Glacier from the east. If we could maintain our height to the glacier a thousand feet above the confluence we should save a long descent and the corresponding ascent.

We worked round the mountain side high above the Tierberg Glacier ; to get on to it was a problem. Ahead of us completely barring our way was a most disagreeable looking icefall.

We debated the advisability of retracing our steps, descend­ing to the Trift Glacier and thence up the Tierberg, but finally decided to push on and endeavour to find a way immediately below the icefall. A series of ledges led us a long way and finally deposited us in a gully adjoining the foot of the icefall. Immediately above our heads the seracs tottered, sixty to a hundred feet high, tilted at grotesque angles, while the ground ahead of us was littered with blocks of ice, the debris of previous falls. With somewhat bated breath we dashed beneath them on to the Tierberg Glacier glad to get beyond their reach.

Ahead on the skyline was the little col, caUed Zwischen Tierberg. The slopes which led up to it looked very steep, but we were past meeting trouble halfway and were more concerned with the glacier below our feet. On it the bare black ice did not prove difficult owing to the amount of debris frozen to its surface. Further up snow covered the ice and made progress much easier. By keeping to the right bank, kicking steps and cutting where necessary, and on one occasion surmounting a steep bit by the rocks at the side, we eventually arrived at the col (9,900 feet).

Someone suggested we should climb the Vorder Tierberg, only a few hundred feet above us to the north, but the snow-fields beyond the col fell away seductively in the direction of the Stein Hotel. We dallied in the sunshine on the little pass, lost in admiration of the new ranges now revealed to us. Away to the north a huge ridge extended for miles—from where we stood it seemed almost a cliff—the Gadmer Fluh which culminated in the Titlis. In front of the Titlis the jagged fingers of the Funffingerstocke rise amidst a sea of glacier. Ahead of us in the east the gendarmes on the fine ridge of the Sustenhorn show up against the sky.

We rattled down the east slopes in fine style to the Tierbergli Rocks, where with good food in the offing, the remains of our sardines, salami, and jam seemed less attractive than usual, but we ate our fill and then slept. Before setting off again we did a foolish thing. In spite of the warnings of Experience, who promised us a night on the rocks, we left beneath a cairn our remaining hunk of bread, which in appearance and hardness now differed little from its surroundings. In a few minutes we began to rue it.

Once you have seen the place from afar, it ought to be the simplest thing in the world to descend the Tierbergli Rocks on to the Steinlimmi Glacier. In fact it took us going on for three hours. The map and the S.A.C. book were both equally vague but a cairn at the top of the rocks suggested a start, and a suggestion of scratches and a lost jacket led us onward, till we found ourselves doing a first-class rock climb on the steepest buttress of the rocks, with visions of tea at Stein fading into the background. In the end we managed to get off on to a snow slope which led to easier rocks, which in turn dropped us down unpleasant slopes of moraine on to the glacier. We zig-zagged up and down, over and round endless mounds of rubble until at length we reached the far bank and struck a track. In the shade of a huge boulder we flung ourselves on the first real grass we had seen since leaving the road above Meiringen— I can smell the sweetness of it now.

Looking backwards at the buttress we had just descended we saw a perfectly obvious way of descent down a long snow slope which looked as if it might be a glissade and which would have avoided the upper rocks entirely. We blamed that hunk of bread. In half an hour we were in Stein. A great place the Stein Hotel, hot baths, change of clothes, grand beds and tea with cake !

The off-day passed all too quickly ; there were the ravages caused by long exposure to sun and snow to repair, plans for the morrow to be made, and long pleasant hours sitting in the shade of the verandah, with cooling drinks at elbow, watching the antics of a filthy but affectionate pig which attached itself with embarrassing affection to each sweating pedestrian toiling up the Susten Pass.

Saturday.—We rose betimes, creaked downstairs in the dark, boots in hand, and bade each other a whispered ” Bon Voyage ” as we split up into two parties, one to try the N.E. ridge of the Hinter Sustenhorn by way of the Sustenjoch, the other bound for the Fiinffingerstocke. The latter party ascended the steep hillside behind the hotel and followed the rocky bed of a stream until it mingled into the moraine below the Obertal Glacier.

Ahead of us lay an intricate system of glacier interspersed with rock ridges of appalling steepness. Among these were the five fingers of the Funffmgerstocke, but which was which was only ascertained after a good deal of discussion. Our intention was to climb the second and third fingers and the best way of approach appeared to be up a branch of the Obertal Glacier on our right. Our first problem was to get on to the glacier ; the snout looked forbidding—blue-grey ice suggesting hours of step cutting. To our left a thin moraine led across the glacier but would land us at the foot of glaciated rocks which looked unclimbable.

As we could make a start on the rocks to the right we thought we would see what lay beyond. They were a mere jumble of huge boulders brought down by the glacier and piled on top of each other. The initial patch of about fifteen feet caused us some anxiety as we feared the lot might topple. After this came a long slope of rocks lightly poised on ice up which we progressed gingerly, expecting a landslide. Once on the glacier the going was easy enough and we advanced rapidly until well below a much steeper section which barred our path. Luckily this was well covered with snow and we kicked a slanting route up it without trouble, arriving on a snow ridge forming the rim of the upper basin, immediately below the fourth finger. This towered above us on our left, fine jagged pinnacles of solid rock, almost vertical and four or five hundred feet high.

The third finger, a considerably more rounded mass, stuck up comfortably ahead, while to the east the skyline was dominated by the delicate spires which formed the second finger. We advanced to a tiny col between the two, dumped our axes and sacks and started up the second finger. Appearances are deceptive and we found the first few hundred feet easier than we had anticipated. The last hundred feet provided excellent climbing which culminated in an exposed corner, vertical but with splendid holds, followed by an awkward step into a gap below the summit block. The rock was grand and firm throughout.

Once on the top we enjoyed the unique position to the full; we were perched on a block like the top of the Needle with drops of several hundred feet on all sides but the way we had come. We descended without incident, pausing to admire the delightful clumps of blue gentian and pink androsace which filled every nook and cranny where grit could collect.

The third finger lay close at hand and after a leisurely lunch, we trudged up the now soft snow to the rocks below the lower summit. A few minutes landed us on the top and we were rewarded with a splendid view down the Wenden Valley.

Descending to the col we plunged down the snow slopes with long strides, noting with amazement how quickly our morning tracks had vanished. Before we reached the lower glacier a distant hail was heard, which even at that distance we recog­nised as the voice of our respected Editor, whom we expected would be eating up the gendarmes away on the Sustenhorn.

We joined them at the Heuberg col and discovered that they had been turned by slippery shale at an impossible angle on the so-caUed grass traverse round the Sustenspitze, and had decided that the whole route and the broken glacier ahead was worthy of reconnoitring. Not to be deprived of a climb, they had returned to the Susten Pass and climbed along the Heuberg ridge, having great sport among the gendarmes en route. Leaving them to have a final fling at the Ober Heuberg we descended by a different route below the Heuberg and came out on top of the Susten Pass and so to Stein.

On the following day we made our way over the Susten Pass, heading for the Maderanertal with fresh fields to conquer.