Biner_Leseprobe

We did not stay for long. My heart was so light, I felt like I could have flown
far away, above and beyond the mountains, maybe even down to Zermatt to
see my sweetheart. Then, we made ready for the descent. Whymper traded
places with Lord Douglas and was now directly in front of me on the rope.
Croz was still leading the group. So we slowly climbed down across the roof,
at approximately the same section where the descent still crosses today.
After that, we traversed back to the west face, along a ledge. We moved
very slowly and with the utmost caution, since the descent was considerably
more difficult than the ascent. We got to the end of the ledge, where Croz
started to climb down the north face together with the three men closest to
him. From time to time, my father belayed the rope on a ledge.
All of a sudden, the four men shot through the air, almost as if they were
leaving behind a small cloud where they used to stand. The rope broke as
if it had been a mere thread; the four young mountaineers were gone. It
happened as fast as lightning strikes. No one made a sound. They had disappeared
into the dreadful abyss.
One can only imagine how we felt. We were barely able to move – that is
how shocked we were. Eventually, we tried to continue our descent; but
Whymper was shaking so much, he was almost incapable of taking a step
forward. My father took the lead and kept turning around in order to secure
Whymper’s feet while climbing down the steps. We had to stop repeatedly
to rest, for we were deeply shaken by what had happened. Nevertheless,
we kept going and, eventually, we were back on the ridge, where we tried
to eat something; it was virtually impossible, though. Our throats felt as if
we were being chocked, incapable of swallowing anything. This was not
surprising, since further down we saw our unfortunate comrades lying on
the cold ice of the glacier. My heart was aching and tears ran down my
cheeks. Our poor, poor friends. Only that same morning had they been
alive and full of joy; now their broken, lifeless bodies were lying on the
bitter-cold glacier.
And if only the good Mr Douglas had not traded places, then he would
have been the one who survived; he would well have been a better and
more loyal friend to us than this Mr Whymper, who had been so very
unapproachable and distant – and still was afterwards, even though we
had saved his life. Without us, he would have died, as well. He later told
a different story, a story in which he was the hero, and he said things
that were not true. I, for instance, never saw any of the three crosses Mr
Whymper had allegedly spotted in the sky. Furthermore, he put words into
our mouths, without any motivation. How could he have understood any
56 The conquest of the Zermatt Mountains