My Home in the Alps
Elizabeth Alice le Blond
9781465662675
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Beyond the comparatively small circle of climbers, very few travellers in Switzerland seem to have a clear idea to what class of man a good Alpine guide belongs. Many persons picture to themselves a typical guide as an individual whose garments are in as shocking a state of disrepair as are the summits of most of his native peaks; who bears visible and invisible evidence of an entire ignorance of the use of soap in combination with water; to whom Truefitt is embodied twice a year in his wife, unless perchance his youngest born is allowed as a treat to wield the shears; whose manner is boorish, whose gait is too strong a mixture of a roll and a limp to be classified even as a slouch, and whose chief aim in life is the extraction of the largest possible number of francs from his employer’s pocket in return for the smallest possible amount of work. Furthermore, these people have curious ideas as to “the whole duty of” a guide. They think that he is bound to obey, without remonstrance on his part, any orders, however unreasonable, that his employer may give him. They expect no common-sense, education, or knowledge of the world from him, so they treat him as if he were a clumsily constructed machine, capable of running in the groove of an oft-traversed track, and of nothing else. Now, it is a pity that such ignorance should prevail on the subject, and I propose to do my humble share in dispelling some of it by pointing out the chief characteristics of a first-rate Alpine guide, and backing up my opinion by anecdotes of the behaviour of some of the masters of mountain-craft when confronted with exceptionally strong calls on their capacity. Before going further, I should like to say something of the early training of a guide. He usually makes acquaintance with climbing when very young, his first scrambles being often undertaken in the company of the goats. In time he gains confidence, steadiness of head and foot, and a knowledge of the limit of his powers. As years go on, he is perhaps taken out chamois-shooting by his father, and in summer he obtains an occasional engagement as porter on an ascent of more or less difficulty. If he has definitely resolved to be a guide, he will do his best to get work of this sort, and it often happens that an active young porter, who has carried one’s rugs and firewood to a bivouac over-night, begs to join the expedition in the morning, “just to learn the way.” In reality, his chief object is to secure a few lines of commendation in his book, which will help him to future engagements, and will also be so much to the good when he puts forward his claim to a certificate as guide. When ascending the Jungfrau some years ago, our porter, at his urgent request, came on with us to the top, and it was interesting to notice the careful teaching which my two veteran guides, old Peter Baumann and old Peter Kaufmann, bestowed on him. It was the youth’s first mountain, and I could see that he strained every nerve to avoid a slip and to gain my good opinion, in which he certainly succeeded, for he went very well, though he was, not unnaturally, scared at the huge crevasses below the Bergli, the glacier being just then in a particularly bad state. Very different was the behaviour of another porter, chartered to carry my camera on any easy snow-ascent. He, too, had never before set foot on a mountain, and he commenced his antics at the snout of the Forno glacier, which he mounted on all-fours. Farther on he objected to the crevasses, and when we reached the arête, he was so formidable an appendage on the rope that we untied, and went up the last rocks in two parties, on two ropes, another lady, an Eton boy, and I leading, and the porter and the two guides following!
