THE TRAVELLER.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1514, 7 March 1901, Page 11

THE TRAVELLER.

A WALK ON THE SALEVE (By C. 11. Bedford in “Travel.”) “I hate Geneva, there are no mountains- Can’t I get on?” is the cry I hear continually from hurrying, perspiring tourists, who come to Switzerland with the fixed idea that they will meet a playful glacier in every by-street-, and walk up an average .snowpeak in the course of a forenoon’s stroll. “Oh, ye of little faith,” and less originality, why wiii you rash cn, and ever on, like sheep through a gap, missing so much that is charming and good to look on and that is not seen and done by the general herd? As a matter of fact, there is climbing to be had within a stone’s throw of Geneva, or, more correctly speaking, within haif-an-hour’s tram ride, and climbing, moreover, far more suitable to the average summer visitor to Switzerland than the ascent of any of the higher peaks of the Alps. I had been in Geneva several times before I found out the delights of tire land I am about to describe—a -land of grey cliffs and jagged points, shelving ledges and green undergrowths, patched with sun and shadow, land of little tracks running among tre'es to bare precipices, and pieces of rock jutting out from the cliffs—a land, above all, of ■winds and breezes and glorious views. A place to go alone to—a place to stay and have time in—the north face of the Salere It was a blazing day in July when I first visited this land of promise, and I started, after an early lunch, on a long exploring expedition. It was the hottest part of the day, and as we walked down the “Rue de Mont Blanc,” everything looked white and shimmery, and the air above the lake danced and dithered in the brilliant sun- Straight in front of us, hardly through the thick haze 'of heat, we could see-the cliffs of the Saleve rising sheer out of the cultivated land of the plain, and streaked with soft, undefined stripes of grey-green wood and purple shadow. A “little half-hour” in the electric tram brought us to Veyrier, a quaint little village nestling in the trees at the very foot of the mountain. Here our walk began in real earnest. Following the path,to Monnetier, the picturesque village in the cleft between the Grand and Petit Saleve, we slowly ascended by zigzags, through woods of stunted oaks', and across shingly slopes of stones, washed dowm from the cliffs by countless ages of rain and snow, till, after 20 minutes or thereabouts of steep v/alking, we came to the foot of the cliff itself, and the “Pas de l’Echelle,” steps cut in the living mountain at the steep east end of the Grand Saleve, where the rick goes sheer down for nearly 1000 ft. The Saleve is a long hill, 4537 ft. high, or 947 ft. higher than Snowdon. From Monnetier a good road runs li,p the east side, by which one can ride on mules to the top. . The top itself is a fair-sized plateau, nearly flat, and covered with short grass, where a few cows, with huge bells round their necks, and a goodly number of goats, herded by little brown barefooted children, pick up a living through the summer. There is, of course, the usual indifferent cafe, but with this difference, that here one can sit and drink sqch drinks as the gods provide, and enjoy one of the finest views of the Mont Blanc range possible anywhere. On the north side the Saleve might have been cut down with a rough knife. It is a high cliff of grey limestone, with broad, steep ledges or terraces of soil and rubble covered with low trees and bushes, running across it in parallel lines, and cut up here and there with great rifts and gorges, particularly noticeable among which is the “Grande Gorge,” about three-quarters of a mile from the east endIt was this side that we had resolved to explore, and as Ave looked from the top of the “Pas de l’Echelle” at its bold outline and towering crags fading away into the soft summer haze we forgot the heat, and started upwards with renewed gyAfter leaving the rocky steps the path turns sharp to the right, and runs nearly straight on into Monnetier; but at this point we resolved to leave it, and strike straight upwards to our right, so, climbing the fence which divides the path from the little mountain railway, with ail its complicated arrangements of cogs and rails, we started up a steep slope of thick, low trees and bushes. It was a fairly steep climb, and the undergrowth was so thick that we could only get on slowly, helping ourselves with our hands, and not able to see where we were going, as the bushes were just taller than our heads, but keeping always tip, and up, till at last we came to a straight piece of jagged rock, almost perpendicular, over which Ave scrambled, and found ourselves on a broad ledge, AArith the straight grey cliff on one side, and the

whole valley of the Rhone, Geneva, and the lake extended at our feet. As far as we could see Ave Avere about half-way up the mountain; but as the cliff hung over the ledge in a huge mass of stone it Avas impossible to see up. Away to the left, as \A r e sat feasting our eyes on one of the most beautiful views I had ever seen, Ave saw that the ledge ran upwards, getting gradually wider, and finally ending in a- narrow path running along through the stunted oaks and wick-elms, which groAV on the Salei'e AA-liere v'er there is a handful of soil anywhere among the rocks. After a few minutes’ refit Ave started along this path, and never had I seen a more beautiful one. For some distance it ran along almost straight through the trees, patched with deep shadow and brilliant sun, and edged Avith moss and grasses, from which peeped many a tinypurple cyclamen, Avith deep, glossy, heart-shaped leaves; ahd here and there a tali spike of blue campanula. It would have been a knot impossible to knoAv one was on a cliff 3000 ft. high, if one had not been reminded by a sudden g C'V a it:, fa. i, .;Ou ,il one's feet, or a great, grey snouioer of the mountain far above one. Quantities of butterflies, many of which AA-ere new to me, fie ay- about us, birds sang, and crickets chirruped. We might have been in an ordinary Avood, though as a matter of fact, the strip we Avere Avalking along was not more than.2o yards wide, from the bottom of the cliff on our left to the top of the one on our right. Presently the trees ended suddenly, and the path again became a ledge, in some places only a few feet wide, jagged and broken, and running along the face of the cliff at different heights, till it again came out on another wooded terrace, almost identical with the last, and so on, and on, always steadily rising, sometimes over lichen-covered rocks and crags, seamed and cracked with the endless wear of time; sometimes through trees and shady woods, now nearly flat, now so steep that we had to use hands' as Avell as feet to get over some stiff corner or sharp roclc, and so on, getting ever more and more rocky, and the'trees fewer and farther between, till at last, after about an hour and a half’s climb, we found ourselves on a grey, craggy point about 500 ft. from the top,, and looking over a great rift, that seemed to run from top to bottom of the mountain. For some time Ave sat, hardly saying a word. From this eerie perch the view passes description. Immediately below and around us, the gorge, with its grassy slopes and clinging trees, here and there huge precipitous cliffs and rocks, ruddy with the afternoon sun, and falling away in mighty points and ridges, till the trees among them turned from green to blue, and the shadows became purple arid undefined through the great depths far, far down. As though seen through a faint blue smoke, the \ r alley of the Rhone lay like a green map, with Geneva, its white houses and grey towers, shining in the sun. The Arve, immediately beloAV us, made a silver streak all across the country, here- dull and steeliv, there almost dazzling in its brightness, where the sun touched its waters, and was reflected as on a look-ing-glass, and, past,all and above all, the lake itself, a great blqe jeAvel in a green setting, vivid in its colour' in the foreground, and 1 gradually fading and dying away into the blue uncertain distance and melting into the sky at an invisible horizon. White, straight roads stretched in all directions from Geneva, veins from the heart of the valley, and a white puff of smoke told of a train speeding on its way north, but invisible at this height. • Above us, the rocks ran in a huge amphitheatre round the top of the gorge, Avit-h a few trees and patches of grass and mountain plants clinging here and there. Everything was still, except for the faint murmur of the wind in the tree-tops, beloAV us, coming fresh and untainted straight across the valley from the Jura Mountains on the other side., and the incessant cry of two hawks, which we had disturbed, and who whirled continually round their nest on a rock jut--sting out from the cliff opposite. An ideal place for climbing this gorge, with its varied attraction of rock and cliff and treed slopes; but though our time was getting short, we could not help waiting and drinking in the view, as we saw it then for the! first time, beautiful beyond description. We had still two hours to spare, so we decided, if possible, to climb doAvn the gorge to the plain beloAV, and so back to Veriez along the foot of the mountain instead of getting up on to the flat top, and coining down the regular road to Monnetier, wbicli had been out first plan. To begin Avith, the climb was nothing—steep stone slides, and tree-covered slopes, Avith an occasional bit of rock; but never anything really difficult or dangerous. Presently, however, we found ourselves on the edge of a. straight drop of several hundred feet, and had , to make a long detour to the right, Avith two nasty rock corners, which would probably have been nothing to an experienced mountaineer, but took us all our time to manage, and we were both very glad wei had good nails in our hoots. After this little excitement, more loose stones, more trees, and more rocks, and then, to our disgust, another impassable cliff, the bottom, of Avhich we could not even see. I picked up a small rock, and threw* it over, silence folloAved for some moments, and then, far below, the faint noise of the fall. IlAridentiy this was no p'ood, so Ave turned still more to the right, where the trees seemed to grow much lower down, and tried again. We found that wherever there were trees

we ccukl generally pass; but that as scon, as these stopped, the cliff became unclimbcbie; and eventually we were again stopped by an impassable height. An hour and a half of our time was gene, and AA-ere not not yet half-way down, and as there seemed little prospect cf our being able to get the rest of the- way that night, we decided, much against our Avill, that it would be beet to go back and fellow our original plan. We Avere not in the best possible condition, and the climb back Avas long and tiring, with several nasty places to be negotiated, so by the time we got to our starting-place at the top of the gorge the sun Avas sinking, in a red gloAv behind the great purple masses of. the Jura Mountains, and the valley and lake were rapidly fading out of sight in the shadoAV of night. We did not .wait long, but toiled on OA-er the last remaining rocks, and threw ourselves, two dead dogs, on the, grass' at the ton. A 10 minutes’ Ava k brought us to the core, where we were met by a comely Scotch woman, who provided us Avith the needful quench to a thirst I, for one,' would not have taken a sovereign for. It v. nearly dark as we started homewards, but the huge snow peaks of Mont Blanc, Mont Maudit, and, farther to the left, the “Aiguille Verfce,” were turned to pink and gold by the setting sun. As Ave came down the road to Monnetier, the gloAv gradually died aAvay, the stars came out one by one, and everything faded gradually into the soft purpl©> blackness of night. As Ave rounded the corner of the “Pas de l’Echelle,” Geneva came into view, like a scene in a theatre—a thousand lights twinkling--and reflecting in t* lake, specks of red fire dotted all about the \ T alley, and at our feet a tiny glowworm added its mite to the general efrect. working slowly home, through, the warm night, with the cow bells jingling high up the hill, and the soft night breeze on our faces, we both came to the conclusion that avc load never , had a more enjoyable day.