DOI Heft:
No.233 (August 1912)
DOI Artikel:McLeish, Donald: On photography at high altitudes
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21157#0214
Photographing at High Altitudes
for some distance into their interior to a point
where a mass of fallen ice had partially bridged the
crevasse, and then to cut up the other side. On these
occasions one man only moved at a time, the others
holding him by the rope till the traverse was made.
Descriptions would entirely fail to give an idea of the
manifold shades of blue and green light with which
these caverns were filled, or of the fantastic shapes
taken by the icicles that garnished their interior.
The exceptionally hot season of 1911 had made
the traverse of glaciers more difficult than usual;
crevasses were everywhere at their widest and worst.
Occasionally an impassable crevasse made it neces-
sary for us to adopt the alternative of finding a way
over the seracs. The ascent of these pinnacles
involved plentiful step-cutting, extra care of the
rope in case of tumbles, and other mountaineering
delights, and the views from their summits of the
maze of twisted ice below was often distinctly
sensational. The photography of these incidents
presented further difficulties. To obtain an effective
view-point the ascent of a neighbouring serac was
sometimes required, and the photographer had to
make the exposure while standing in the precarious
foothold of an ice step without the actual and moral
security that is afforded by the rope.
The circumstances were strongly reminiscent of
a traverse made on a previous occasion in the ice-
fall of the Morteratsch glacier, where, in addition
to these difficulties, pictures had to be snatched at
long intervals from under a cloudy sky, that bug-
bear of the Alpine photographer. Frequently when
the party had been picturesquely posed on an ice
wall, and the photographer had taken his place on
another, clouds shut off the sunlight; and during the
lengthy intervals that passed before the appearance
of another blue patch the photographer had to listen
to a continuous stream of pointed and personal
comments from his rebellious lay figures. But this
perhaps was excusable in those who were not
sustained by the elevating influence of art. We
were not troubled by bad weather on the present
occasion. We scrambled through the icefall in the
late afternoon and included the last of its fractured
masses in a picture of the Dent du Geant two miles
distant. This rock tower of r 3,17 o feet is remarkable
as being perhaps the only Alpine summit that was
not reached on the first ascent by fair means.
Artifices which mountaineers generally regard as
unsportsmanlike were employed. Iron spikes were
driven into the rocks and the more difficult places
festooned with ropes ; but even then it proved a
hazardous ascent, and it will always remain an
extremely difficult tooth to scale.
192
We reached the summit of the Col du Geant
towards sunset, and luxuriated in the magnificent
view over Northern Italy. Loftily situated though
we were, Mont Blanc rose on our right in a series
of gigantic precipices nearly 5000 feet higher, and
his buttresses descended far below us to the gloomy
Glacier de Toule, from the depths of which the
evening mists commenced to rise. The sunset
was a fitting termination to a perfect day; its
grandeur culminated in the appearance of the
mighty shadow of Mont Blanc, a huge pyramidical
shape stretching across the sky, its apex touching
the eastern horizon. The night was spent at the
Torino hut, a few feet down on the Italian side.
On the following morning the camera was taken
to the summit of the Aiguilles Marbrees for the
purpose of obtaining a picture of Mont Maudit.
For reasons of fatigue, and possibly for others not
wholly unconnected with Alpine photography, my
companions were unable to accompany me. On
the summit ridge a most interesting time was spent
balancing the merits of various foregrounds, &c., the
choice falling at length on a striking rock tower
which admirably served to give the impression of
atmosphere to the mountain two and a half miles
distant. After a long wait a party of Frenchmen on
their way to Chamonix came into view; they may
be seen as five black dots on the glacier far below.
From the snows of Mont Blanc we went direct
to the glaciers of Dauphine. It is a district almost
unexplored by the tourist, and one in which the dis-
cordant yells of the “ personally conducted ” party
are never heard. We were surprised at the extent
and variety of its glaciers. That of the Pilatte
offered all the problems associated with the greater
ice streams of the central Alps, while the gigantic
rock walls characteristic of the district presented
problems distinctly their own.
The usefulness of an Alpine rope was strikingly
evidenced while descending a mountain a few days
later. Without its help one at least of our party
would probably be reposing in a crevasse at the
present moment. We were gingerly crossing a
steep slope on Mont Pelvoux, where the surface
was almost as hard as ice could be, when the
second man slipped from his steps. There was just
time to drive our axes in and take a turn of the
rope round them before the strain came. Our
friend drove his axe-head convulsively into the
surface, but it did not hold and for a few moments
he was entirely suspended. Had he been unroped
he would have continued to fall, probably finishing
his career in one of the numerous crevasses waiting
two hundred feet below.
for some distance into their interior to a point
where a mass of fallen ice had partially bridged the
crevasse, and then to cut up the other side. On these
occasions one man only moved at a time, the others
holding him by the rope till the traverse was made.
Descriptions would entirely fail to give an idea of the
manifold shades of blue and green light with which
these caverns were filled, or of the fantastic shapes
taken by the icicles that garnished their interior.
The exceptionally hot season of 1911 had made
the traverse of glaciers more difficult than usual;
crevasses were everywhere at their widest and worst.
Occasionally an impassable crevasse made it neces-
sary for us to adopt the alternative of finding a way
over the seracs. The ascent of these pinnacles
involved plentiful step-cutting, extra care of the
rope in case of tumbles, and other mountaineering
delights, and the views from their summits of the
maze of twisted ice below was often distinctly
sensational. The photography of these incidents
presented further difficulties. To obtain an effective
view-point the ascent of a neighbouring serac was
sometimes required, and the photographer had to
make the exposure while standing in the precarious
foothold of an ice step without the actual and moral
security that is afforded by the rope.
The circumstances were strongly reminiscent of
a traverse made on a previous occasion in the ice-
fall of the Morteratsch glacier, where, in addition
to these difficulties, pictures had to be snatched at
long intervals from under a cloudy sky, that bug-
bear of the Alpine photographer. Frequently when
the party had been picturesquely posed on an ice
wall, and the photographer had taken his place on
another, clouds shut off the sunlight; and during the
lengthy intervals that passed before the appearance
of another blue patch the photographer had to listen
to a continuous stream of pointed and personal
comments from his rebellious lay figures. But this
perhaps was excusable in those who were not
sustained by the elevating influence of art. We
were not troubled by bad weather on the present
occasion. We scrambled through the icefall in the
late afternoon and included the last of its fractured
masses in a picture of the Dent du Geant two miles
distant. This rock tower of r 3,17 o feet is remarkable
as being perhaps the only Alpine summit that was
not reached on the first ascent by fair means.
Artifices which mountaineers generally regard as
unsportsmanlike were employed. Iron spikes were
driven into the rocks and the more difficult places
festooned with ropes ; but even then it proved a
hazardous ascent, and it will always remain an
extremely difficult tooth to scale.
192
We reached the summit of the Col du Geant
towards sunset, and luxuriated in the magnificent
view over Northern Italy. Loftily situated though
we were, Mont Blanc rose on our right in a series
of gigantic precipices nearly 5000 feet higher, and
his buttresses descended far below us to the gloomy
Glacier de Toule, from the depths of which the
evening mists commenced to rise. The sunset
was a fitting termination to a perfect day; its
grandeur culminated in the appearance of the
mighty shadow of Mont Blanc, a huge pyramidical
shape stretching across the sky, its apex touching
the eastern horizon. The night was spent at the
Torino hut, a few feet down on the Italian side.
On the following morning the camera was taken
to the summit of the Aiguilles Marbrees for the
purpose of obtaining a picture of Mont Maudit.
For reasons of fatigue, and possibly for others not
wholly unconnected with Alpine photography, my
companions were unable to accompany me. On
the summit ridge a most interesting time was spent
balancing the merits of various foregrounds, &c., the
choice falling at length on a striking rock tower
which admirably served to give the impression of
atmosphere to the mountain two and a half miles
distant. After a long wait a party of Frenchmen on
their way to Chamonix came into view; they may
be seen as five black dots on the glacier far below.
From the snows of Mont Blanc we went direct
to the glaciers of Dauphine. It is a district almost
unexplored by the tourist, and one in which the dis-
cordant yells of the “ personally conducted ” party
are never heard. We were surprised at the extent
and variety of its glaciers. That of the Pilatte
offered all the problems associated with the greater
ice streams of the central Alps, while the gigantic
rock walls characteristic of the district presented
problems distinctly their own.
The usefulness of an Alpine rope was strikingly
evidenced while descending a mountain a few days
later. Without its help one at least of our party
would probably be reposing in a crevasse at the
present moment. We were gingerly crossing a
steep slope on Mont Pelvoux, where the surface
was almost as hard as ice could be, when the
second man slipped from his steps. There was just
time to drive our axes in and take a turn of the
rope round them before the strain came. Our
friend drove his axe-head convulsively into the
surface, but it did not hold and for a few moments
he was entirely suspended. Had he been unroped
he would have continued to fall, probably finishing
his career in one of the numerous crevasses waiting
two hundred feet below.