[1] "We are all lost."

[2] The exact origin of the fÖhn wind is still disputed. It is thought to have no connection with the sirocco, a wind which in Europe blows always from the south, bears with it sometimes particles of sand, and is impregnated with damp from its passage over the Mediterranean. The fÖhn blows from any quarter (though usually from the south), and is a dry, warm wind, which causes the snow to melt rapidly. In German Switzerland it is called the Schneefresser, or Snow Devourer, and it has been said that if no fÖhn visited the Alps, Switzerland would still be in the glacial period.

[3] The Annals of Mont Blanc, by C.E. Mathews.

[4] The responsibility did not rest with Croz. His part was to advise, but not to direct.

[5] The summit of the pass has been marked on Dufour's map, 3793 mÈtres, or 12,444 feet.

[6] These snow-cornices are common on the crests of high mountain ridges, and it is always prudent (just before arriving upon the summit of a mountain or ridge), to sound with the alpenstock, that is to say, drive it in, to discover whether there is one or not. Men have often narrowly escaped losing their lives from neglecting this precaution.

These cornices are frequently rolled round in a volute, and sometimes take extravagant forms.

[7] The upper part of the southern side of the Col de Pilatte, and the small glaciers spoken of on p. 211, can be seen from the high road leading from BrianÇon to Mont Dauphin, between the 12th and 13th kilomÈtre stones (from BrianÇon).

[8] In the early days of mountaineering it was the custom to pass the rope through a ring or spring-hook attached to a strong leather belt, instead of, as now, attaching it in a loop round the body of each climber.

[9] The remains of this rope hung for years where Mr Pilkington had placed it, and when I ascended the Meije I saw the bleached end of it hanging over as sickening looking a place as I have ever desired to avoid. The ordinary route passes more to the west.

[10] It has transpired since that our judgment happened to be right in this matter, and we might probably have saved an hour or more at this part of the ascent.

[11] Not at all an unusual proceeding, even between born mountaineers. I wish to convey the impression that Croz was using all pains, rather than to indicate inability on the part of Mr Hadow. The insertion of the word "absolutely" makes the passage, perhaps, rather ambiguous. I retain it now in order to offer the above explanation.

[12] At the moment of the accident Croz, Hadow, and Hudson were close together. Between Hudson and Lord Francis Douglas the rope was all but taut, and the same between all the others who were above. Croz was standing by the side of a rock which afforded good hold, and if he had been aware, or had suspected that anything was about to occur, he might and would have gripped it, and would have prevented any mischief. He was taken totally by surprise. Mr Hadow slipped off his feet on to his back, his feet struck Croz in the small of the back, and knocked him right over, head first. Croz's axe was out of his reach, and without it he managed to get his head uppermost before he disappeared from our sight. If it had been in his hand I have no doubt that he would have stopped himself and Mr Hadow. Mr Hadow, at the moment of the slip, was not occupying a bad position. He could have moved either up or down, and could touch with his hand the rock of which I have spoken. Hudson was not so well placed, but he had liberty of motion. The rope was not taut from him to Hadow, and the two men fell 10 or 12 feet before the jerk came upon him. Lord Francis Douglas was not favourably placed, and could neither move up nor down. Old Peter was firmly planted, and stood just beneath a large rock, which he hugged with both arms. I enter into these details to make it more apparent that the position occupied by the party at the moment of the accident was not by any means excessively trying. We were compelled to pass over the exact spot where the slip occurred, and we found—even with shaken nerves—that it was not a difficult place to pass. I have described the slope generally as difficult, and it is so undoubtedly to most persons, but it must be distinctly understood that Mr Hadow slipped at a comparatively easy part.

[13] Or, more correctly, we held on as tightly as possible. There was no time to change our position.

[14] Here the whole contention that the party was a competent one falls to the ground. No one without a reserve of strength and skill to meet possible bad weather should embark on an important ascent. Fair-weather guides and climbers should keep to easy excursions.

[15] The exact date of his birth does not seem to be known. He was christened at the Church of St Antoine, Val Tournanche, on 17th January 1829.

[16] Signor Peraldo, the innkeeper at Breuil, stated that a relief party was in readiness during the whole of 25th August (the day on which the descent was made), and was prevented from starting by the violence of the tempest.

[17] See Travels amongst the Great Andes of the Equator, 1892.

[18] Signor Sinigaglia wrote a letter to a friend, from which I am permitted to quote: "I don't try to tell you of my intense pain for Carrel's death. He fell after having saved me, and no guide could have done more than he did." Charles Gorret, through his brother the AbbÉ, wrote to me that he entirely endorsed what had been said by Signor Sinigaglia, and added, "We would have given our own lives to have saved his."

Jean-Antoine died at the foot of "the little Staircase." On the 26th of August his body was brought to Breuil, and upon 29th it was interred at Valtournanche. At the beginning of July 1893 an iron cross was placed on the spot where he expired at the expense of Signor Sinigaglia, who went in person, along with Charles Gorret, to superintend its erection.