over monte moro by macugnaga to ponte grande, and domo d’ossola
creation’s heir, the world, the world is mine.—goldsmith.
september 6.—at 3.50 a.m. coffee was ready, but was told that it was not so with the guide and porter. on looking them up, i found them both in bed, and asleep. i was not quite unprepared for this, from something i had been told at saas about the way in which my friend sometimes spent his evenings. but, having taken a kind of liking to him, i had replied that this would make no difference to me, so long as he was all right during the day. about that i was assured that i need entertain no doubt. the delay, however, caused on this occasion, by his inability to wake of himself at the appointed time, did not, as it happened, amount to much. after a gentle ascent of, if i recollect rightly, about forty minutes, and somewhat beyond the distel châlets, we came to the first snow. it might have been a quarter of a mile across. with nails in your boots, and an alpenstock in your 123hand, this is almost as easy to walk upon as the path that brings you to it, only, of course, that you cannot walk upon it quite so quickly. beyond this, the ascent is somewhat stiff up to the summit. sometimes it is on a ledge of gneiss, with a deep precipice down to the glacier-ravine on your left hand. another snow-field also has to be crossed here, which lies at an angle of, perhaps, 25° or 30°. the summit of the pass is like a small crater a few yards across. here my friend, who had been as brisk and talkative as heretofore since we started, called a halt for breakfast. the cold meat and bread were certainly of the driest, and that perhaps encouraged him in the idea that not they, but the liquid with which they were washed down, was the essential part of the repast. young andermatten, a name well known in these parts, was now carrying my sac. he had met us between the two snow-fields we had passed, and as my porter had some reason for wishing to return to saas, he had undertaken to supply his place to macugnaga.
as soon as you leave the summit you begin to descend a ledge of very smooth gneiss, about six or eight feet wide. on your left is a precipice; on your right a broken wall of rock. you go down this for about a hundred yards, and then get off it by a few projecting steps, which have been fixed in the face of the rock. this takes you on to some snow lying at a sharp incline. it would not do to slip on 124this ledge of gneiss; and, at first, not being used to such paths, that is to say if it is your first pass, you think you must slip. but you take heart when you see your guide walking down it much the same as if he were walking on london pavement. he turns round to see what you are about, and to offer assistance; but that you cannot accept. still you are glad when it is done. the descent to macugnaga is, throughout, rough and steep. ascending it, and with the sun on your back—it faces the south—must be hard work. if it had been a swiss mountain there would, long ago, have been a good horse-path made to the top.
this is an old and easy pass. ordinary lungs, ankles, and head, are all that it wants. it was known to, and used by, the romans. it was for some time occupied by the saracens, who left their name upon it, as they did names of their own on several peaks and places around it.
as you trudge over the mountain, in the fresh morning air, accompanied by your guide and porter, and with your attention quickened to receive the impressions of the grandeur around you, which you know will hold a place among the most valued and abiding of your mental possessions, you feel as if you were really one of the lords of creation. this feeling would be a wee bit marred, if the eternal mountain had been presumptuously appropriated by some 125mortal molecule, for then you might be troubled with apprehensions of disturbing, or of being thought likely to disturb, his ibexes and chamois.
i made the monte rosa hotel at macugnaga at 8.30; that is to say, in four hours from the mattmark see, excluding the twenty minutes’ halt in the little crateriform chamber on the top of the moro. i now had a breakfast, which, by the grace of ‘mine host,’ bore a close resemblance to a dinner, for it consisted of a long succession of dishes. this did not come amiss to one who, having been up some time before the sun, had an appetite that took a deal of killing; and ‘mine host’ had also the grace to charge modestly for what he purveyed bountifully. i found that the inn of the mattmark see was an off-hand house of his, under the management of his wife. he is besides by profession a guide. he must, therefore, be doubly disposed to regard with favour and sympathy those who do the monte moro. i found here a london member of the faculty, who was making macugnaga his head-quarters for a part of his holiday; and his fuller experiences of the house, and landlord, were all on the right side. the balcony of the hotel commands the best possible view of the upper ten thousand feet of monte rosa: its subterranean foundations—the remaining third of its height—are spread out beneath you. you are just at a good distance for taking in the whole of the visible structure—the 126height, the form, the ravines, the glacier, and the contiguous peaks, with the head of the valley for the foreground. it is a grand, varied, complete, impressive sight.
at 1 p.m. left the monte rosa hotel for ponte grande. the guide, who was now also porter, shouldered my sac with a jaunty air, and we started at a good pace. my new acquaintance of the hotel joined company for the first mile and a half. at parting we hoped that we should meet again at the athenæum. at this point you leave the path on terra firma, and take to a path, laid on a wooden platform, strewn with sand, which overhangs the brawling anza. this platform road is curious, and well worth seeing. in some places it is supported by lofty pine poles, which must be fifty or sixty feet high. you hardly understand how support can be found for it in the sheer chasms it occasionally has to be carried along. i have somewhere read that the old roman road along the bank of the danube was in places constructed in this fashion, and that the holes cut in the rock, for the bearings of the king-posts and struts, are still visible. this of the anza is very much out of repair. in some places there are gaps you must step, or jump, over. in others it has been entirely destroyed, and you must make a little détour to recover it. for a mile or two, or more, above ceppo morelli you quit it altogether, and take to a 127rocky mule path, which might easily enough be very considerably improved. at ceppo morelli is a bridge of one long, slender, much-elevated arch, somewhat in the form a loop caterpillar assumes in walking. here you return to the left bank; and the carriage road of the val anzasca commences. hitherto we had been walking at a good pace for a rough path; but now the road, having become smooth, invited us to quicken our pace to near four miles an hour. the guide, who had already called two halts, now called them at shorter intervals. he was evidently breaking down. still he was unwilling to lessen speed. we reached ponte grande in a little over four hours. here is what appeared to be a fairly good hotel. just before i turned in, the waitress came to inform me that my guide had ordered a carriage, in my name, for the next day. she suspected that all was not right. i asked her to have the carriage counter-ordered, as he was under contract to walk with me over the simplon to brieg; and to tell him that i should be off at five o’clock in the morning.
september 7.—found that the guide’s feet were so swollen that he was quite incapable of going any further. the way, i suppose, in which i had understood that he sometimes spent his evenings had been a bad preparation for continuous hard walking, in a valley with very little air, commanded all day by an unclouded sun, and with a dozen, or more, pounds on 128his back. i was now obliged to leave my sac, with instructions that it should be sent on to domo d’ossola by diligence; and then started alone. to pié de muléra (7½ miles) there is an excellent carriage road. so far you are on the mountain side. from thence to domo d’ossola (about 7 miles more) the road is generally on the flat. there was a perfectly clear sky, and no air was stirring; and so i found the latter part of my morning’s tramp very warm. under such conditions one might expect even a water-drinker’s feet to swell.
i was in domo d’ossola at 12 o’clock. having breakfasted leisurely and looked over the newspapers in the reading-room of the hotel, i was ready for another ten or twelve miles; and should have done this in the evening had i not thought it better to wait for my sac. as it was, i spent the afternoon and night at domo. as i care little for towns, particularly third or fourth-rate ones, and have seen enough of churches and hôtels de ville, this was an unprofitable waste of time. i amused myself as well as i could with the arrival and departure of the diligences, and with the italian aspect of things. the hotel was cheerless and lifeless. as soon as a diligence left, everyone about the place suddenly became invisible, just as if they had all sunk into the ground, or melted away into the air. still, it may be the least unlively house, as things go, in a place so dismally doleful.
129to go back then to the valley of the anza. as soon as you enter it at macugnaga you see that you are among a more sprightly and joyous people; and are struck with the contrasts between them and the homely swiss on the other side of the mountains. they are better dressed, and with more attention to effect; particularly the women with their white linen smocks, showing very white beneath the dark jacket, not untouched with colour—this is worn open and sleeveless; and with their more gaudily-coloured kerchiefs on their heads. the dress of the fairer part of creation in switzerland is somewhat sombre. they make little use of colour, and appear to be attracted most by what will wear best; and, if it may be written, will require least washing. the women in this valley have good eyes. they are not unaware of the advantage, and use them accordingly. their complexion, too, is clear. that of the swiss is, generally, somewhat cloudy. their bearing and air are those of people who are of opinion that the best use of life is to enjoy it. the swiss seem to regard life as if they were a little oppressed by its cares and labours. perhaps the conditions of existence on their side of the mountains are so hard, that the people must take things seriously. one respects their laborious industry. there is a kind of manliness in their never-ending struggle against the niggardliness and severity of nature. this, and their forethought, one 130applauds, only regretting that so much toil should secure so little enjoyment; and should have such humble issues. there is something that pleases, and attracts, in the smiles, and in the greater sense of enjoyment, of the light-hearted italian.
in the upper part of this valley german is still spoken. here also it is observable that not nearly so much has been done, as on the swiss side, to reclaim and irrigate the land. you wish to know whether this is at all attributable to a difference in the distribution and tenure of landed property. you pass several mines: some of gold. the abundance and size of the chesnut-trees are a new feature. you contrast their freely-spreading branches and noble foliage with the formal and gloomy pines, of whose society you have lately had much.
