“The Englishman has marked out a few corners of the Alps as being exclusively British. There are, however, neutral zones where Britons and Continentals meet, but the Englishman keeps in the main to certain well-known routes. You will find him at Zermatt, at Grindelwald, at Binn, and at Arolla. At Champex he will be outnumbered, and at Morgins he was, until quite recently, entirely unknown. It was the discovery of Morgins as a winter sports centre that brought the tardy Englishman to this retiring valley.

“Years ago I had looked across the waters of LÉman to the range of fronting hills, and idly wondered whether some hidden and silent valley lurked among their recesses. Leslie Stephen’s “Bye Day in the Alps”, which I discovered in an old Cornhill—it was not reprinted in the “Playground of Europe”—gave form and personality to an outstanding sentinel of these Savoy hills, but it was some time before I explored for myself these outlying heights that guard the central citadels of the Alps. Since then I have often revisited the long defile that leads to Morgins.

“You reach Morgins by a curious little mountain railway that connects Monthey and ChampÉry. At Troistorrents you leave the train and prepare for a sleigh drive up the valley which branches off to the right. Troistorrents is a characteristic Alpine village. It lies in the heart of the Val d’Illiez, one of the loveliest of Alpine glens, which is still quite unspoiled. The big hotels of ChampÉry are hidden from view and there is nothing to disturb the quiet music of the three streams that meet below the parish church, and give to Troistorrents its name. Of course the chief glory of this valley is the incomparable Dent du Midi. This mountain, or rather this grouping of separate and successive rock towers, has a curious fascination; it is so distinctive. There are domes not unlike Mont Blanc, pyramids that resemble the Matterhorn, peaks very like the Weisshorn; but in the whole Alpine range you will find no match to the Dent du Midi. Its outline is unique. Its history is interesting, and considering its moderate height it has attracted a very large share of Alpine literature. Like so many mountains, it was first climbed by the parish priest of a neighbouring valley.[19] Its conquest occurred in 1784. Sixty years later five men of the Valais climbed the beautiful eastern peak that rises like a lion above the towers of Bex. The last turret, the Eperon, only yielded its secret as late as 1892.

“Those who have read Javelle’s delightful Alpine memoirs will remember the fascination which this peak influenced on the great climber. ‘I am completely captivated,’ he writes, ‘by the Dents du Midi … is there anything astonishing in it? For two years it has been before my eyes every moment of the day.[20] The eastward aspect of my window provided that the first image on which my waking eyes should rest was its graceful and slender profile. At table a malicious fate had chosen my place so well that between my two opposite companions the seven peaks of the arÊte were visible to me in a frame. What I specially love is the eastern peak. She may not be the highest, but is she not the proudest, the slenderest, the most beautiful? Is it not the peak which gives the mountain all its character, and, in spite of the few metres by which her western sister overtops her, is it not she who first strikes the beholder and who dwells in the memory?’”

“Let us first dispose of the rough guidebook facts. Let me tell you that Morgins is 4800 feet above the sea level; that it enjoys more than its fair share of snow; that it is one of the great ski-ing centres of the Alps; and that the sun can find its way to the rink during the best part of the day, while it discreetly keeps off the northern ski-ing slopes save for a short interval too brief to damage the snow.

“Each winter sport centre has its own peculiar atmosphere. Life at Morgins is comparatively peaceful. We danced, of course; we played the usual absurd games—trundling the potato and so forth—but we were unmolested by a potato-trundling committee with a special and peculiar badge. We were not troubled by those who come to the winter Alps in order that they may bask in the sun. The men of Morgins were built of sterner stuff. Morgins will go down to history as the home of a great renaissance. The English School of Skaters, driven out of their old shrines, have founded a new Temple at Morgins. I do not know much about skating myself, though I believe I am the worst skater that ever passed the third-class test, but I am told by those who do that English skating reflects our national characteristics with most uncanny acuteness. I gather that the main difference between the two schools is ethical. The foreigner, when he wishes to make a ‘3’ turn, waves his arms, kicks his leg into the air, sways his body, and in general advertises his skill with no little success. The ladies stand round and applaud, while the English skater curls a contemptuous upper lip. Not for him the vulgar rÉclame. Body stiff, unemployed leg gummed firmly into his trousers, arms rigid … a twinkle of the shoulder blade … a slight movement of the little finger … and the hardest of ‘B’ turns is a thing of the discreetly successful past … no ladies stop and applaud … only the initiated can detect the amazing skill involved in this modest performance. The aim of the Continental school is to emphasize apparent difficulty. The ideal of the English school is to conceal difficulty. They skate for the joy of the thing, careless of applause. The strong silent reserve of the Briton that scorns vulgar advertisement finds perfect expression in the sedate, dignified curves of the English school … I hope I have made myself clear.

“But this is not an article on the rise and fall and subsequent renaissance of the chaste and refined school of skating. I must content myself with stating that Morgins is the winter home of the great apostle of the counter-reformation. Mr. Humphry Cobb pilots his novices into the true faith. Mr. Cobb and Rudolph Bauman between them could make ice at the Equator, and the rink at Morgins is all that devotion and genius can achieve. Ice making, as Bauman understands the craft, is one of the fine arts.

“But it is as a ski-ing centre that Morgins is famous. The classic expedition is, of course, the Porte du Soleil. A mighty host left for this pass the morning after my arrival. In the night it had rained at other centres which shall be nameless, but at Morgins, which is a well-behaved spot, it had snowed, and the old crust was covered with a beautiful dusting of fresh snow some two or three inches deep. It was a glorious day. The clouds, that so often drift up after rain, rested on the summits of the hills, and showed through casual openings the blue sky of an Alpine winter. We wandered slowly up a narrow valley, along a stream gagged with the covering of snowdrifts, between pines that had not yet shaken off the new load of snow. We soon branched off to the left, and marched up open slopes to a little chÂlet, where we had lunch. Here he who had carried the beer had an opportunity of testing the ratio of potential thirst as anticipated in the valley, when the rÜcksacks were being packed, with the actual thirst as exhibited on the mountain-side, when rÜcksacks were unloaded. After the customary pipe, and the still more customary remarks, such as ‘Who would believe that one could sit in the sun with one’s coat off in mid winter;’ or ‘Fancy the poor fellows grinding away in their city offices;’ or again, ‘Just think of the …’; after, in short, we had smoked all the tobacco that there was, drunk all the beer that there was, made all the quips that there were, ruptured all the infinitives that were still united, and exhausted every clichÉ dear to those who describe the Alps in winter—after all this (the proper ritual of a ski-ing lunch) we turned upwards once more and marched gaily forward to meet the pass. A long upward stretch brought us to the foot of the last slope, a few more tacks and the Dent du Midi shot out beyond the portals of the sun. At any time this view must be singularly beautiful; as we saw it the vision from the pass had a peculiar loveliness. Fleecy clouds driven up by the breeze, ‘shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind’, rested on the highest snows without materially restricting the view. The battlements of the Dent du Midi were free from haze, and the upper reaches of the Val d’Illiez, sadly brown, formed a satisfying contrast to the snowy slopes round Morgins. Poor ChampÉry! Scores of disconsolate exiles, thirsting for the real winter, deserted ChampÉry for Morgins during the course of the winter.

“Of the descent it is hard to speak with decent restraint. There are some two thousand feet leading direct from the pass to the glen. As we found them the snow was in perfect condition. One put one’s ski together and let gravity do the rest. You start off with a thousand feet of easy, gradual slopes, which you can take nearly straight. There is not a single difficulty to give one pause; it is all plain sailing, or rather plain ski-ing. Then comes a slight ascent, promptly followed by one of the best bits of running in the district. If you can take this stretch of some thousand feet without using your sticks or pulling up you are something of a runner. You begin with a gentle swoop down into a hollow, you swing round by a telemark or stemming turn, and then you have a wide choice of some good snow for the next lap. Follows a somewhat steep slope, which will give you a chance of putting in four sharp curves; swing round to the right, and then take the last stretch of a hundred feet straight, and wind up with a Christiania before the stream. The rest of the run home is not so good, but it affords some very excellent short bits and some pretty work through the woods.

“An alternative to this expedition is to cross the Porte du Soleil to ChampÉry. You start with a stiffish traverse, and then spin down some divine slopes to the Col de Coux, winding up with a run down an easy pass to ChampÉry. In a good season, when there is plenty of snow at ChampÉry, this run is well worth making. After an excellent light repast at ChampÉry you return by road to Troistorrents, quite enjoyable ski-ing of its kind, and then home either on foot or by sleigh. Or you might sleep at ChampÉry and return the next day over the same pass.

“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.”