Year of publication 1960 - Fell and Rock Climbing Club

THE EVENING ALPSDorothy Pilley Richards'Nothing like it!' we thought again, breathing anew thealpine air—muscles, tendons and joints as it were champingthe bit. All the delights of who-cares-how-many seasonscrowding aboard to live themselves through once more.Those first alpine mornings—with, it feels, an ocean of timeahead—how limpid and leisurely. Better for them to be'untouched by solemn thought.' How would it help, if, forexample, something told one what the future held?On 9th November, 1958, a drunken driver was to swingacross the traffic and there we were with no choice but to raminto the wreckage; head through wind screen, broken hip andthe joint all chaos within. Afterwards, well, the scale of theAlps, and of much else, is strangely changed.Even before this horrid accident, the relativeness ofmountain efforts had been growing upon us for some time!How arduous the simplest trips may become. 'A greatproportion sum,' I kept saying to myself all that last goodseason, 1958. A: B:: C: D: this little peak is to me now as thegreatest adventures were in earlier years. The Blumlisalp!Once upon a time—I seem to remember—could I have talkedas if a traversee integrate would be the only thing worthplanning there? Did the Oeschinen See really have to listento such airy stuff from me in about the year that Sir AustenChamberlain was saving the world at Locarno? And as tothe Fusshorn—call it even the Grosser Fusshorn—keep that,(did I rule?) for the doddering days. It will come into its ownthen! And so it did.One measures things, I suppose, against the run of one'sstrength. A slight lift, as against one's personal general level,and how the day gleams; a decline and we don't look thatway. Would I have done differently, I wonder, if I hadknown it would be my last free-moving season? Probablynot. And now the proportion formula will have to be appliedon a still more modest scale.The Oeschinen See—like the wall beyond it—ignoreshumanity perfectly well. The concertina troop makes nomore impression on it than the bathing beauties fleeing fromits sudden storms. Thunder and a smart splash of rain satus down there to salad and fendant with our bread and cheese.For an hour, just within the curtain of drip from the roof, thealpine 'Will-you? Won't-you?' held us swinging: a bed—a