A Holiday Among The Horungtinder

By J. A. Green.

(Read before the Yorkshire Ramblers’ Club, December 13th, 1904.)

Store Skagastölstind, From the Southern Dyrhaugstind by Eric Ullén

Few contrasts could be greater than that between the conditions of my first visit to this district of Norway with Dr. C. A. Hill, in 1900, and those of our second, in 1904

On the former, ill-luck dogged our footsteps in the form of many delays in travel, while the weather was unsettled and very cold.  The only thing at all like mountaineering that we succeeded in doing was the crossing of the Skagastölstindskar from Vetti to Turtegrö.  The icy coldness of the north wind which met us at the top of the pass exceeded anything I have ever experienced.  Fortunately, about twenty minutes’ quick going took us out of the greatest force of the wind or I should speedily have succumbed to its icy buffeting; numbness not only of body, but of mental faculties, was felt in even that short time.

During the few days we spent at Turtegrö, the thermometer never registered higher than 34° F. even at mid-day; the nights were intensely cold, and the clouds hung low all the time.

A visit to the Styggedalsbræ in cold and clammy mist, through which came at intervals squalls of sleet and snow, failed to convince Hill of the pleasures of mountaineering, and on-the following day he went down to Fortun in the hope of persuading some fish of weak intellect to foolishly put its nose out of the water into the colder air – of course without success.

On this day I went with Ole Berge to the Riingsbræ with a forlorn hope of snatching a climb, but the biting cold and shrewish wind which assailed us as we mounted quickly proved the folly of attempting any peak in such weather.  And so ended our stay in the Horunger in 1900.

In 1904 everything turned in our favour.  We got faster and better boats than we expected, perfect weather for the journey from Bergen up the beautiful Sognefjord to Skjolden, and reached Turtegrö at noon on the 20th July.

Then, for nearly a fortnight, was one succession of glorious days, cloudless save for occasional superposed masses of cumuli right around the horizon vying with the mountains for beauty, and nights of a clear brilliance such as one rarely sees.  From the summits, the views were in almost ‘every case clear to the full extent of vision -peak and glacier and snowfield like the waves of the sea for multitude and extent.  Day by day the sun beat down hotter and hotter, until even the most active ceased from climbing, or climbing, rapidly lost weight.

Our first ascent was of the Dyrhaugstind – a long grind up the butt-end and then an easy but exhilarating scramble along a narrow ridge, falling steeply on either hand, over two minor peaks to the highest cairn.  As a view point nothing could be finer.  On the one side is the ridge of the Skagastölstinder, and on the other is to be seen that wild array of the Western Horungtinder – splintered ridges and sharp peaks rising precipitously from their glacial setting.  The fantastic Store Riingstind is seen shaped like a scoop full of flour, its NW face dropping in an absolutely vertical precipice.  From any point of view this mountain is remarkable, but when it first comes in sight at a bend of the road from Fortun to Turtegrö, its soaring, overhanging sharpness catches one’s breath.

Our next climb was Store Skagastölstind with Ole Berge as guide.  To my disappointment he did not see fit to either ascend or descend by Slingsby’s route,^[1] nor even to vary the climb on the upper rocks by using ‘Vigdal’s gully in one direction, so that we perforce had to go up and down the same way – a thing I abominate.

We followed the well-known route discovered by Heftye, which has been too often described to be further enlarged upon here.  Suffice it to say that its chief characteristic is its intricacy, the climbing itself not being difficult.

The day was blazing hot, with thin films of mist rising from time to time and aggravating the effect of the heat.  The climbing is interesting, and improves the higher one gets.  The top reached, thin mists still rose and fell, mocking Hill’s efforts at photography, so down we lay on the Warm rocks and revelled in the mountain glory.  Oh! That glorious and all too short hour on the summit!

We were back at Turtegrö at 8.30, having been out just 12 hours.  All day we had gone slowly because of the heat.

Learning that the traverse of the Soleitinder made ‘an interesting walk with a little scrambling, but no difficulty anywhere,’ Hill and I turned our steps in that direction, in order to get a new view point.  The first peak is reached by an easy walk, but speedily develops into a sharp ridge, and for the scramble down to the col we used all the rope.  Three little pinnacles come next, all of which can be, and usually are, turned on the right, but we went over each in turn to get all the sport the mountain offered.

Now, in front of us was the second peak, separated from us by a short ridge.  It looked repellingly smooth and steep, but since it had been said there was ‘no difficulty’ we went to investigate it.  Sixty feet of rope went out ere I found a decent halting place and Hill could join me.  Then, after unavailingly trying several ways to the l left, I traversed to the right.

Some distance above and running straight up, there was a crack about 9 or 10 inches wide, which looked possible although very steep.  After a little trouble and some delicate balancing I succeeded in getting one handhold at its base and one foothold on the top of a splinter of rock.  No other holds within reach were obvious; Hill was 30 feet below and almost vertically under me, and while resting I could not help wondering what would be considered ‘hard climbing’ by people who could call this ‘interesting walking!’  The removal of some moss from the crack revealed a good handhold which I could just grasp, and after a few more sharp tussles easier rocks were reached and the top of the second peak gained without further difficulty.

The descent to the col on the W., between the second and third peaks, is over one of the thinnest and most dilapidated ridges I was ever on.  There is no difficulty anywhere, but daylight can be seen between many of the singly piled blocks of which the ridge is formed.  It looks woefully unstable.  A good shove seems to be all that is necessary to send much of it pell-mell down to the glacier.

A late start had left us with too little time to continue over the third peak; therefore, as we had seen from the ridge that the Soleibrae presented no difficulty we decided to descend by it.  A big schrund was conveniently bridged at the exact spot where we wished to cross.  We got home without further incident, to learn that the second peak had previously always been turned on the right and that our scramble up its face was therefore a new route!

Two days later we were led by Ole Berge over the ‘V’ gap to Mellemste Skagastölstind, starting at 7.30 a.m.  At the same time another party, consisting of a Norwegian and a young Dane with three young Norwegian ladies, left for the Soleitinder.

In great heat we sweltered our way over Nordre and Næbbet, and came face to face with our climb.  Never do I remember anything that looked so desperately steep and smooth as the south wall of the gap, up which we were to climb.  Clambering quickly down into the gap the rocks began to look more amenable and we were soon at work on them.  Steep they are, and in places even sensational, but without any phase of great difficulty.

The route zig-zagged about the face; but Ole led unerringly up the 250 feet which brought us to the Berge Stöl.  Thence to the top of Mellemste was merely a jolly scramble.  To our surprise we learnt that ours was only the fourth ascent by this interesting route.  That such a capital climb should have been done only four times in four years seems incredible.  It was first accomplished by Slingsby and Ole Berge, in 1900.^[2]

After an hour’s rest on top – whence we got most of the view denied us on Store Skagastölstind – we descended by the ordinary way.  Here, again, is one of those intricate routes characteristic of this region of precipices.  For 1500 feet one turns and twists and doubles on the face of the mountain overlooking the Skagastölsbræ.  Always steep enough to cut off sight of all rocks but those immediately near, the interest is kept up until the rope is discarded.  At one awkward place, a narrow crack running down the centre of a steep slab about 18 feet high offered the only hold.  A piton at the top served as a belaying pin for the last man, who came down on a doubled rope.  Then came easy slabs and much exasperating scree before the path was reached.

On the rocks of these mountains a black lichen grows to the size and shape of a well opened Brussels sprout; it is sharp-edged and as tough as leather.  Its wearing effect on finger tips is only exceeded by its tenacious grip on clothing, and an encounter with it on this day left me in a pitiful condition of tatters.

During the evening at the Hotel some anxiety began to be felt at the non-return of the party from the Soleitinder and it was eventually thought essential that if they were not back by dawn something should be done to know the reason why.

Accordingly, at 2 a.m., after an hour-and-a-half’s rest, Hill and I arose and a party of six set out at 2.30.  There being a possibility that fatigue or some unknown circumstance might have caused our friends to seek shelter at the Berdal Sæter, Fröken Bertheau (a lady whose name is as well-known to Norsk mountaineers as is that of Slingsby) who was staying at the Hotel and organised the search party, started at once for the Sæter, taking with her the sister of a young Dane who was one of the missing party; whilst Ole Berge, Herr Erik Ullén, Dr. Hill and I went upwards towards the Soleitinder.  Soon we separated, Ole and Hill going towards the Soleibræ, while Ullén and I were deputed to get on the ridge, and, if necessary, follow it right round until we came upon some traces of the missing ones.  By this arrangement we should soon all have sight of the Berdal Sæter, where, if good news were gathered or the missing ones found a white sheet or tablecloth was to be looked for.  If no tidings were obtained a fire lighted outside was to be the signal for a continuance of the search.

Ullén and I composed ourselves for what might happen to be an uncommonly long day’s work, but we had only been going quietly for half-an-hour or so when four specks were seen on the ridge above us – it was some time ere, we discerned the fifth – and soon we met them, very hungry, but otherwise cheery and bright as though the spending of the night on a mountain top was the pleasantest thing in the world.  The reason for their being benighted was that when the final peak was reached they had doubts as to the safety of the condition of the snow, and so wisely returned.

Night fell while they were retracing their steps over the long ridge, so the cheery souls simply sat down and told ghost stories until it was light enough to go on again!

Even at the early hour of 5 a.m. the sun was blazing fiercely down upon us and the return journey to Turtegrö was a slow but jovial procession.  The hotel was reached at 8.30 and despite the fact that the benighted ones had been out 25 hours they looked none the worse for their adventure.  Fortunately for them the night had been warm.

An expedition to Austabottind, which was suggested by Fröken Bertheau as likely to be of considerable interest, and on which we had the pleasure of her company, was arranged.  We were to attack the peak by a route which had only once been taken (by a Danish climber named Rostrup) and which was reputed difficult.

After more than the usual delay incidental to an early start we got away at 5.15 a.m. on the 30th July, with Ole Berge as guide.  In due course the Berdalsbrae was reached; we ascended to its head and took to the rocks of the peak in a line almost directly under the summit.  The troubles began at once; rotten rock, steep slabs, and ledges just affording lodgement for the loose stones which covered them.  Such climbing has little attraction for me.  By the time we had ascended about 200 feet and were all uncomfortably placed (certainly at this point no one was sufficiently firm to stand much strain) it seemed that we could only advance further by incurring unwarrantable risk.

Our position was this: Ole had with great difficulty traversed a steep slab by a small and slippery ledge which barely afforded foothold, and where no hold for the hands was available; he was then able to give neither assistance nor security to the next man – indeed, he expressed doubt whether, if need be, he himself could return safely.  Finally, he unroped and went ahead to see what the prospect was beyond.

Austabottind, From the Solei Ridge by Eric Ullén

His report was that it was all alike as far as he could see – steep slabs, rotten rocks, and every difficulty forcing us towards a shallow gully on the right, which, while we had been climbing, was swept by several falls of snow and stones.  We therefore decided to retreat, and were very glad when Ole had safely crossed the bad place and we were able to move again.  The glacier below us was like a rubbish tip with the débris we had dislodged, and more was added on the descent.

The question was, what were we to do?  Trial of a place to the right was suggested where a tongue of the glacier reached higher up the rocks, and where also the ridge was much lower, so that, at the worst, we should have had comparatively little (only about 250 feet) of the bad rock to contend with.^[3]  No one but the proposer however seemed to care about the idea, and we still less liked Ole’s suggestion that we should descend the glacier, get on the ridge at its lowest point, and so gain the summit by the ordinary way.  Among the disadvantages of this plan was the fact that we should not reach home before midnight.  Eventually, and after much deliberation, it was reluctantly agreed to write the day off as one of failure and go leisurely home.

And a most delightful walk it was!  Frequent rests, enlivened with multitudes of those small jokes which have such fine flavour on a mountain, brought us to Turtegrö in a condition of high spirits and hilarity, which to poor Ole, who persisted in being very depressed, seemed wholly sinful and shameless in defeated mountaineers.  But we only laughed the more, to the bewilderment of those kind friends who while offering condolences only got chaffed for their pains!

A crumb of comfort came to those deeper and better feelings which existed beneath our levity (no one likes defeat, however much he may joke about it) when we were told that we had at all events not suffered defeat on a route which had been previously climbed, for it seemed that our troubles had arisen through ignorance of Rostrup’s exact line of route, which we had departed from – though perhaps but slightly.

No matter! We had not only had a good day, but also the privilege of climbing with a lady whose skill was a pleasure to witness.  Fröken Bertheau’s manipulation of the rope on a glacier and, above all, on those viciously rotten rocks excited one’s sincere admiration.  Ability to climb over extremely loose ground without either dislodging stones or allowing the rope to do so is a virtue recognised by no one so fully as the man below!

The weather having maintained perfection for so long a time now broke for a day or two and enforced idleness on us; but one other first rate climb was yet in store.

The Dyrhaugstinder, From The Skagastols Tarn by C.A.Hill

The Southern Dyrhaugstind was first climbed from Bandet in 1895 by Messrs Patchell and Simpson, led by Johannes Vigdal of Solvorn.^[4]  The second ascent lies to the credit of Messrs Raeburn, Tandberg and Pauss in 1902.  Both of these parties kept to the left (S.) of the ridge.

A few days before our ascent Herr Erik Ullén had climbed it with Fröken Bertheau and Herr Tönsberg, varying the route of their predecessors considerably, and when Ullén invited us to join him and Fröken Bertheau in another visit we were only too delighted.  At the last moment the arrival of friends from England prevented Dr Hill from joining the party.

At the gap in the ridge which comes down to the Skagastölstindskar is a broad ledge.  Here we roped, and the sport began at once.  Two succeeding gullies, steep and interesting but not difficult, brought us on to the ridge; thence traversing some 150 feet to the right (N) an almost vertical wall of about 100 feet was reached, and here the difficulty in places became great.  The rock is not sound, the holds are very small, and the greatest care was necessary.  Ullén led finely, but at one place had to come back puzzled by a difficulty which was not experienced on his previous ascent.  Returning to the attack he surmounted the obstacle and took out 90 feet of rope before an anchorage was reached.  Fröken Bertheau followed, and before tackling the pitch myself I was glad to send up the axe and sack which I was carrying.  The crux of this part of the climb is a short traverse across a shallow gully.  The rocks slightly overhang and disturb one’s equilibrium, while the holds for the fingers are very minute, far apart, and barely of sufficient use for steadying purposes.  From somewhere here an important hold had fallen since the previous visit, which added greatly to the difficulty.

Once across this gully the ascent continues straight up and over rocks so rotten that safe handholds are scarce i and footholds have to be used circumspectly.  The place of anchorage was simply a flat slab about 3 feet square.  From it a traverse to the left involving two or three steps of delicate balancing on a narrow ledge, with a bulging rock above – which presses one out without affording the slightest hold for the hands, leads into a half-rotten chimney.  Soon after passing this, the other route was joined, the ridge merged into the face, and the remainder of the climb was over steep but delightfully sound rocks.  The 800 feet or thereabouts from the gap took us two hours and a-half of fairly quick climbing.

Food and a short rest at the cairn, and then the rope was coiled and we scrambled over all the peaks of the Dyrhaugsridge and down to Turtegrö in the gayest of moods.

That evening Ullén and I decided that on the morrow – my last day – we two would climb Store Skagastölstind by a new route of his on the S ridge and come back over all the peaks of the ridge, including the descent of the ‘V’ gap.  This would have been the first traverse of the ridge in that direction and the whole would have made a fine expedition.

Alas! we rose at 4 a.m. to find the weather hopelessly bad.  Greatly disappointed though we were it would have been folly to attempt the traverse of such an exposed ridge in such a storm – the climbing in places is sufficiently difficult in fine weather.  All day the wind blew violently across the ridge, clouds were low, and snow and hail fell on the heights.

So much for the climbing part of an exceptionally good holiday, which it must be understood was enjoyed under sybaritic conditions, the rocks everywhere being dry and warm.

Even for a moderate climber there is an infinite amount of interesting work in the climbs described, and they are a mere fraction of the possibilities that may be found amid their surroundings – surroundings too of a grandeur difficult to surpass, while there is climbing worthy of the mettle of the best of mountaineers, and – it is not yet either hackneyed or stale.

I retain other memories of ‘off days’ in Skagastölsbotn and to the Styggedalsbræ; on Oscarshoug and Klypenaase, with the whole glorious group of peaks bathed in sunlight across the Helgedal.  Nor are likely to be forgotten the jovial parties which went a-bouldering, or the sewing parties on the verandah where the clever fingers of Norse ladies converted two of my apparently hopeless garments into one of real use.

Not that I was the solitary object of their charity, for Hill, who is a large man with a great affection for ‘friction holds,’ had to be mended almost daily.  One of the commonest and yet most touching of sights was that of three ladies engaged at once on the salient points of one portion of his raiment.

Want of space prevents me from telling of the celebration of the tenth anniversary of the first lady’s ascent of Store Skagastölstind.  Fröken Bertheau was the recipient of quite an international celebration, there being Norse, Swedes, Germans and English present.  Many were the songs and the speeches and the skaals!

One pleasant feature of our holiday which must be mentioned was that (thanks to the virtues of those Yorkshire Ramblers who had preceded us) the name of our Club was accepted as a sufficient introduction by charmingly kind people to whom we came to owe gratitude for much hospitality.  May it ever be so!