A Novice’s Holiday At Saas Fee
By Donovan Shaw
It is not easy to say what made us decide to spend our first climbing holiday in Switzerland at Saas Fee, but I am as convinced now as when experiencing the delights and thrills of our mountain excursions around that gem ” Valaisanne ” that we could not have chosen a better centre for our premiers pas in the High Alps.
For six months we had steadily amassed volumes of information on the relative merits of the different climbing centres, much of which was the result of our persistent approaches to experienced members of the Y.R.C. These responded nobly and obligingly to our enquiries, and we owe to them a deep measure of gratitude for our good fortune. FinaUy, out of the infinite variety they offered us, by a process of elimination which I dare not explain on paper, we found ourselves left with two places claiming our attention equally, Arolla and Saas Fee.
Now if we had possessed any pretentions to being logical I suppose we should not have arrived at such an impasse. We knew of Arolla’s fame. We could associate it with the Dent Blanche and other renowned peaks. According to the guidebooks it was as convenient for big mountains as for little mountains, offering facilities for every kind of climbs : it was the climber’s paradise. Besides, our expert advisers seemed of one mind that it was just the spot for us. Our notes, in short, should have read ” Arolla, all pros, no cons.” But we were not disposed to be logical: and after all who wants to be so in assessing such matters ? The surprise delights of a casually selected holiday are supreme. I believe our revered Editor’s spell in the Alps this year was the outcome of careful reasoning, of real sound logic indeed. But what came of it ? 0 quel malheur ! Logic therefore knew us not. We would invade the ramparts of Fee. We would make our start where, we were told, we should be out of our depth. At any rate we should then know how we stood ! Down in me I rather imagine that I was influenced by aesthetic considerations. Saas Fee is a bewitching name. Perhaps also I had in mind that Saas is about 6,000 feet up—but that is merely a whisper.
Of our journey to Switzerland, celebrated by adverse fortune gathering into our compartment that world phenomenon the old lady who has lost her railway ticket, I need say little. The trans-continental train carried us without mishap to Visp, where we boarded the Zermatt train for Stalden. Saas is reached by a mule track from the latter viUage and we understood we should have a walk of about four hours. Actually it took us nearly six hours : but it was very hot and we had to shelter for some time from a heavy rain storm. The path is very charming and, on the return journey, one gets a magnificent view of the Bietschhorn over the north side of the Rhone valley. The collection of huts and hotels which constitutes the village of Saas Fee is confined in a small plateau several hundred feet above the main—Saaser Visp—valley, from which access is gained by steep paths. This plateau is so surrounded by towering mountains that it resembles a vast amphitheatre. Facing one, up the valley, the great ice-fall of the Fee Glacier is overlooked by the Allalinhorn and Alphubel, huge and dazzlingly white, giving the impression that they are sentinels guarding the upper expanses of snow and ice. On the west side the Dom, the highest Swiss peak, the Taschhorn, the Lenzspitze and Nadelhorn rise sheer from the valley floor so that a crick in the neck follows a too prolonged examination of their summits. The Egginer and Mittaghorn present fine rocky headlines against the sky on the south. Such an encircling array of heights should brighten the eyes of any man whether he be climber or pedestrian.
At Saas we were met by a young Swiss friend who had arranged to join us on our holiday. He had already been in the district a short time and was obviously in good form ; in fact his excellent condition was brought to our immediate notice on our first climb. Our first day we spent prospecting around, doing just sufficient in the way of climbing as a hot day warranted. On the second we obtained some stimulating exercise in the wake of our Swiss friend on the south arete of the Egginer. We stuck the pace gallantly, consuming astonishing quantities of water so long as streams were available on our route, notwithstanding the words of wisdom we imparted to one another upon our conduct. The climbing was easy but interesting. I think we enjoyed most a very lazy two hours on the summit picking out the different peaks and discussing our plans. Our friend informed us that the traverse from the Mittaghorn to the Egginer was well worth doing, but as we were more concerned in getting experience of snow and glacier climbs we left it until too late.
Somehow our abnormal thirsts accompanied us to our hotel, and on this theme, were I less discreet, I might strange tales unfold. Alpine hotels appear to be resorts to which climbers return every few days there to talk of gourmands and gourmets. It was, by the way, a treat to us to see the obviously locally recruited waitresses invade our dining room en masse with each course. I was reluctant to speculate upon the disaster which would follow a slip by the leader : someone else suggested that the procession was scarcely complete without the requisite music.
Our second venture was the Nadelhorn, and as the weather seemed uncertain we ascended to the Mischabel Hut with provisions for two or three days. The morning of the climb was young, cold and clear, when we set off, but soon after reaching the Hohbalen Glacier icy cold blasts of wind bore down on us from all directions, whirling snow around. A guided party of three had preceded us but their tracks were obliterated. We met them descending at the Windjoch. The wind had been too severe for them and the guide counselled us to return. This we did not care to do and we continued with the intention of going to the top if possible. Under ordinary conditions the ascent from the Windjoch is easy, and in any case the route up the arete presents little difficulty. As it turned out we were insufficiently clad for the boisterous, biting wind, and when only about half an hour from the summit we were obliged to return. To compensate a little for our rebuff we ascended the Ulrichshorn on our way back. The following day was calm and perfect for our purpose, and from the ” Needle ” peak we drank in the panorama of white-topped mountains almost as avidly as the water we had gulped on the slopes of the Egginer.
Notwithstanding repeated and profuse applications of some preventive preparation my two companions succeeded in becoming severely scorched by the sun. As Mr. Weller said of the young lady who drank more cups of tea than were good for her, they ” swelled wisibly before my wery eyes.” They did their utmost, largely on my account, to restore themselves to normality and at length resorted to a thick coating of zinc ointment. I received a shock when I called to see them the next morning. The sympathetic utterances on my lips had to be waived until I reminded them that they were like unto a certain soap advertisement, one named ” Monkey Brand.” It was out of the question to do any more climbing amid the the snow for a few days so we started for the Monte Moro Pass, the famous view point of Monte Rosa.
Alack a day ! We got only as far as the shepherds’ chalets on the Distel Alp. It was then raining in torrents and it was evident that the clouds had settled down for a lengthy period. Our Swiss friend used diplomacy in securing an empty hut and we decided to stay the night in it. The roof leaked abominably and the chamber underneath ours gave a pungent indication of its having been a cow byre. However, with the aid of a meagre spread of cattle fodder and two soaking blankets loaned to us by the aged proprietress, we managed to get a fairly comfortable rest. I was anxious to be on the outside edge of our bed, for what seemed obvious reasons, and by skilful manoeuvring won the second position, F.B. deliberately taking outside to my great but unexpressed wonder. He must have had his campaign well worked out. I think he wedged his foot against a roof support. At any rate he fell straight off into a hoggish slumber and contrived while in this state to have the rest of us fixed so tightly that we couldn’t budge. The position was relieved by one of our number relinquishing his rights. Let (he glory be his.
The sunburn having moderated and the weather cleared, we hied ourselves to the Britannia Hut, bound for the Allalin-horn. We were somewhat late in setting out from the Hut and the snow was getting soft before we had gone far. Numerous crevasses were waiting on the glacier for us innocents and we promptly did what was required of us. It was at this stage of our climb that our sole disaster occurred. A Bruddersfordite was the proud owner of a Panama hat which had proved useful in the hot sun. During a short halt he carefully deposited it on the snow, whereupon a merry wind was born to waft it lightly away. It lodged tantalisingly fifty feet off. The owner stood transfixed for a while, and then the look of sheer horror on his face—a Yorkshireman, remember—was transformed into one of hope. He was unroped and made a dart for his cherished possession but almost at once sank into a small crevasse. By the time we had restored him to comparative calm the Panama had resumed its course and was careering gaily downward, sometimes bowling along on its edge, at others sailing through space. We watched it with mingled feelings steer round the slope hundreds of feet lower down and pass out of our ken. Then the storm broke. Yorkshiremen, so we are told, usually remain calm and unruffled in times of great stress. But I expect there are occasions . . . Well, the scene was worthy of the Frenchiest Frenchman whoever attempted to describe a spiral staircase. Somehow too we became included in his apostrophe.
However, the subsequent negotiation of the snow slope above the AUalinjoch, the rock scramble on the east side of the S.W. arete and the passage over the snow cornice, allowed him to forget his great trouble for a while. Scarcely had we gained the summit than the clouds descended and cut off any view. It was cold and uncomfortable, so we set off downwards almost at once for the Feejoch and the long trudge over the Fee Glacier to the Langefluh.
As a finale to our climbs we arranged to ascend the Sudlenz-spitze and traverse to the Nadelhorn. We deemed it unwise to do this guideless and started from the Mischabel Hut accordingly. The early morning moon was bright and our lanterns could quite well have been left behind. The going up the east arete of the Sudlenz proved easy as far as the Grand Gendarme, where we rested for breakfast. Here a little rock work was interesting and acceptable. The only part of the ascent however which we would regard as needing careful attention is the final snow slope. There had not been any snow for some time and the hard ice was in places barely covered. Even where the snow was thick it did not seem too safe. The traverse from the Sudlenz to the Nadelhorn is, almost equaUy, one half snow and the other half rock. We were just leaving the snow portion when we were suddenly enveloped in a snowstorm accompanied by a driving wind and lightning and thunder. Although we were exceedingly uncomfortable and it was difficult to get along everybody seemed to enjoy things, except the guide and myself. It was surprising how quickly the snow accumulated on the rocks. We continued perseveringly on our course and eventually descended below the storm some two hours later.
Our last day was a day of rest. We merely sat about outside our hotel letting our eyes rove over the scene of our holiday, this was a pleasure in itself. Whether a holiday has been well enjoyed can be measured by the reminiscences which can be attached to it in later years. Saas Fee I am sure will be well remembered by our party of four.