Part 4

“The second expedition was almost as good as the Porte du Soleil. In fact I am inclined to give it the place of honour. Much the same party started off quite gaily for the Bellevue. We climbed steepish sunny slopes above the hotel for a couple of hours to a typical little châlet, where we had lunch. One of the party was something of an epicure, and he had provided himself with a spirit lamp, and so we had the benefit of hot tea—a great luxury. After lunch two of us climbed still higher, to the actual summit. It was well worth the slight additional toil. The view was lovelier than I had anticipated. The Bellevue is well placed, as it commands the great giants of the Pennine Alps. In the west Mont Blanc towered into a stainless sky. The Dent du Midi showed up well above Champéry, and beyond on the left the Combin showed terrace upon terrace of dazzling snows. I fancy we also saw the Weisshorn and Dent Blanche, but I am not certain on these points. Certainly the chiefs of the Oberland greeted us from beyond the Diablerets, and my companion hailed with joy the cone of the Wetterhorn, which he had climbed in earlier days. At our feet lay the long arm of Geneva, and we made out with interest Chillon’s snow-white battlements. The winter resorts above Montreux looked woefully brown and bare of snow, and we turned with satisfaction to contrast them with the white slopes of Morgins. We were more than ever convinced that Morgins enjoys even more snow than a place of its very respectable altitude deserves. The view from the Bellevue has the charm of the prospects from those lesser summits of the Alps that are not too near the greater peaks to be overshadowed, nor too remote to lose the essential majesty of the greater giants. The blending of lake and forest, quiet snow-clad hills, and forest-bound cliffs has a charm lacking in the innermost recesses of the chain. The descent to the châlet was very fine. The first hundred feet required some care, but this was followed by a long slope just steep enough to take at full speed without any fear of a fall. A gentle swing and a beautiful piece of snow brought us back to the rest of the party. We then spent a merry half-hour or so practising swings, and once more turned to the pass between the Bellevue and the Corbeau. This brought us on to the northern slopes, and a perfect dive over steep, but not too steep, gradients led to an opening in the wood, and by the time we had run through the forest we felt that we had acquitted ourselves tolerably well, and enjoyed some capital sport. But there was much good snow still to furrow. Some long, open slopes of good snow gave plenty of opportunity to put into practice the swings and turns we had been performing so gaily after lunch. These ended, the snow became worse, and the last short stretch into the valley was not a joy; we had descended some distance below Morgins, and had pierced the belt below which rain had descended instead of welcome snow. This short bit was of very brief duration, and only served to accentuate the glorious running above. At Vonne we had a cup of tea and some delightful honey, and so home across the short road pass.

“These are the only two expeditions which I can vouch for from personal knowledge. But unless the map lies, and unless other runners at Morgins also speak the thing which is not, there must be a number of other expeditions up to this standard. There are fine slopes between Vonne and Chatel, and a jolly expedition can be made to La Chapelle. The Val de Morgins and its bounding hills still offer plenty of prizes to the diligent explorer after new routes, and the pass at the head of the valley should certainly be crossed. For the mountaineer there are fine high-level routes to Salvan, Sixt, and Chamonix, and I fancy that the Dent du Midi would yield to a determined attack, but I should advise the ski-runner to tackle it from the south side, and not from Champéry. It is best attacked in winter from the Salanfe side, though this hardly comes into the category of Morgins excursions. The rocks of the Dent Jaune have a southern aspect, and should go quite well in winter.

“But Morgins has other things to offer the visitor besides the best ski-ing in this part of the Alps. (My own private conviction is that the ski-ing at Morgins will take a lot of beating, go where you will.) There is an excellent skating and curling rink, beautifully placed, within full reach of the sun’s attack. Mr. E. F. Benson thought very highly of the situation and upkeep of the rink. Then there is some very good tobogganing, and I believe an ice-run is to be built another winter. There are some glorious rambling walks. You can slip over to France in half an hour and take tea at Vonne; and in the evening there are all the amusements associated with life in winter-sports hotels. There is bridge for the sedate, and bumps for the elderly, and dances for children and Nature’s children, of whom there were not a few to be found within a mile of Morgins. And there is—but why add to this catalogue of good things? Those who have gone to Morgins once will return there, and those who have not will soon seek out this valley in the Savoy hills, and find a certain reward.

“ARNOLD LUNN.”

CHAMPÉRY

Time presses, and to gain Champéry we must either pass over the Col de la Chavanette or else go back to Troistorrents and thence by the village of Val d’Illiez. Like Villars, Champéry has experienced phenomenal development within the past few years. Although for long it has been patronized as a delightful summer resort, it has more than doubled its importance since its condition in winter was discovered to be anything but disagreeable. This, of course, has been the common experience of such places over almost the whole of Alpine Switzerland, and it appears to synchronize with the arrival of the ski from the north. The _luge_ has done something, and so has the bobsleigh, towards Switzerland’s new-found prosperity in winter; but the ski has contributed the most. Nor has the ski brought a revelation only to visitors; it has caused even the peasantry to take a new delight in their surroundings. At Champéry, for instance, one may see not alone the men and boys, but also the women and girls—wearing businesslike trousers—practising the art on the rapid snow-slopes.[21] Yet it is but yesterday that the only outdoor winter distraction here was luging down the village street and over the snow-covered pastures; whilst strangers were noticeable by their almost entire absence. It was in those quiet days at Champéry, and about Christmas-time, that was enacted one of the most impressive, haunting scenes that ever I have witnessed in the Alps. Two young men from Lausanne (if memory serves me, one was an American) started from Salvan to walk over the Col de Susanfe (about 7500 feet) to Champéry. As nothing more was heard from them, parties of guides from both Salvan and Champéry started out to find them. The search was ineffectual for several days, but at length the bodies of the poor fellows were found below the Pas d’Ancel. I shall never forget the sight, as the bodies, wrapped in sacking, were brought upon hand-sledges through the village after nightfall—the weird light of the torches upon the snow and the awed faces of the villagers; the sturdy band of guides, sad-visaged and weary; and the tense silence of it all nothing but the scrunch of frozen snow and the bated prayers of women. Here was one of those strong, aery scenes which bring one face to face with the grim side of life in the Alps, and with the people’s stanch devotion, however difficult, however daunting.

It may be that I look upon things Alpine with the particular eye of the enthusiast for solitude; at any rate I think that Champéry, in spite of its great gaiety and _entrain_ in winter and summer, is really its most radiant, loveliest self in spring and autumn. The lofty precipices of the Dent du Midi, the great rock-masses of the Dent de Bonaveau and the Dents Blanches are scarcely more bewitching or inspiring than when dressed in the first snows of autumn or the receding snows of spring. With what transporting shine and fire does the Dent du Midi reflect the autumn sunset; with what arresting energy do the Dents Blanches in spring rid themselves of their winter covering! Never can ravishing dreamland seem so real, so concrete, as when, amid autumn’s soft, white, drifting mists, the snowy summits of the Dent du Midi glow clear coral-pink and crimson; never is the renewal of life proclaimed more loudly or impressively than when, beyond a calm foreground of glistening crocus and dainty soldanella, titanic avalanches hurl themselves upon the plateau of Barmaz.

Champéry and its surroundings are a nest of beauty-spots, in which flowers flash and sparkle like a myriad jewels. Unfortunately no space remains for detailing these many charms; even not to tell where the white rhododendron grows. There is, however, one spot that cannot pass without some notice: the exquisite _vallon_ of Susanfe, by which climbers usually ascend the Dent du Midi. Small as it is, it has all the sweet severity and wild attractiveness of true Alpine circumstance. Barmaz may possess a potent lure, so may the Col de Coux and the Porte du Soleil, but untamed, unspoilt Susanfe, though more difficult of access, is pre-eminently seductive; it is, in fact, the outstanding jewel in this neighbourhood of Champéry. Desolation is there, to be sure, in the hanging glacier and lingering snow, the gaunt rock precipices and tumbled boulders, the avalanche-swept turf, and cold-grey screes; but there, also, are the myriad flowers of brightest Alpine hues, the swift and babbling stream rushing to throw itself into the abyss below Bonaveau, the little blue-green icy lake bordered in part by walls of sunlit snow, and over all the glorious solitude at times quite awesome.

Once upon a spotless autumn day I was sketching there belated spring flowers next the snow. All was still, save for the _peek-peek_ of some small linnet-like mountain bird among the boulders by the glacier-stream, and the occasional shrill alarm-cry of marmots disturbed whilst collecting grass for making tight and snug their prospective winter quarters sounds which, with their echoes, merely accentuated the prevailing silence. Then of a sudden the air was rent as if by a terrible explosion, and, looking up, I saw tons upon tons of sea-green ice split from the glacier and come roaring, hurtling down over the rock-wall. The noise for a while was deafening. Then all once again was silent, with nothing to tell of the giant uproar but the amethyst-blue scar above the precipice. Never in my life have I felt solitude so acutely; never have I felt so insignificant and paltry. Not far off among the edelweiss, I knew, was a shepherd and his flock of three or four hundred sheep; but in the presence of this devastating force of “inert” nature, solitude and loneliness were mine in all their belittling power.

“I am just now, as you may see, Very unfit to put so strange a thought In an intelligible dress of words; But take it as my trust.”

FOOTNOTES

[1] See _Lausanne_ in this series.

[2] Champéry 1049 metres; Villars 1256 metres.

[3] See _Lucerne_ in this series.

[4] This was at a time when the bulls were let out by day. Now there is restriction upon the liberty of these uneven-tempered animals.

[5] Geologists hold that in the remote past these two mountains were connected and formed a continuous chain.

[6] Goethe, who visited St. Maurice with the Duke of Weimar in 1779, probably saw this treasure, as do most visitors, but his mind seems to have been greatly occupied by the bad state of the roads.

[7] The Croix de Javernaz may be seen in the picture of the Dent de Morcles taken from Bex in spring.

[8] The hot, drying south wind from Italy. Sometimes up at Villars one can hear it roaring down below in the valley as it rushes through the gap at St. Maurice.

[9] See _Lausanne_ in this series.

[10] Hopeless pessimists there are everywhere and in every domain, but if there is one quarter of the globe where their unqualified discourse is out of place it is in the Alps. On the fiftieth anniversary (1913) of the Swiss Alpine Club there were those who did not hesitate to say: “Close your doors; your usefulness is past!” Just fancy! Why, the club was never more virile in its life; never more youthful; never more useful! The Alps have still much to give and tell men; in fact, as regards the generality of mankind, they are a mine of physical health and mental wealth that so far has only been scratched. And the club is needed to this end.

[11] There are a number of Forclazs in the Alps. This one is a small village below the Chamossaire and facing Sépey.

[12] The rare excellence of the ice is in no small measure due to the insistent care of the Vice-President of the Skating Club, Mr. A. G. Topham. Colonel Cobbett, Hon. Sec. of the National Skating Association, is a member of the Villars Sports Club.

[13] Mr. A. Henderson Bishop, Vice-President of the Royal Caledonian Curling Club, is President of the Villars Curling Club, and Captain Holmes Tarn is Patron.

[14] See _Lausanne_ in this series.

[15] Let there be no misunderstanding among the uninitiated: these skeletons are a form of _luge_, which is a Swiss toboggan.

[16] This admirable custom also finds a place at Villars and Champéry. For their pleasures in the Alps visitors owe much to the kindliness of the Swiss people, however much may be said about the manifest benefit brought to the country by its so-called _industrie des étrangers_. It makes for less heartburnings and more good fellowship to bring the Swiss themselves into the circle of our enjoyment in their Fatherland; and it is a thoughtful attention that would bear extension.

[17] These rough and steep old roads are met with all over Switzerland, where they are crossed and recrossed by the modern, less rapid, and more circuitous tourist roads. Many of them probably date back to Roman times, if not further, and are very suggestive of the extreme hardship and toil of peasant life in the past—that sturdy peasant life which has done so much to make Switzerland what it is.

[18] See _Lausanne_ in this series.

[19] The curé of Champéry.

[20] Javelle was a schoolmaster at Vevey, on Lac Léman.

[21] The old custom of wearing trousers for outdoor work by the women and girls of Champéry is not as usual now as it used to be when strangers were rare in the land. By their manner of regarding this sensible costume, visitors occasioned shyness; indeed, I believe that some years ago the parish priest advised the women not to wear trousers except in the dead season or upon the higher pastures.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

_At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland_

End of Project Gutenberg's Villars and its Environs, by George Flemwell