Beyond the comparatively small circle of climbers, very few travellers in Switzerland seem to have a clear idea to what class of man a good Alpine guide belongs. Many persons picture to themselves a typical guide as an individual whose garments are in as shocking a state of disrepair as are the summits of most of his native peaks; who bears visible and invisible evidence of an entire ignorance of the use of soap in combination with water; to whom Truefitt is embodied twice a year in his wife, unless perchance his youngest born is allowed as a treat to wield the shears; whose manner is boorish, whose gait is too strong a mixture of a roll and a limp to be classified even as a slouch, and whose chief aim in life is the extraction of the largest possible number of francs from his employer’s pocket in return for the smallest possible amount of work. Furthermore, these people have curious ideas as to “the whole duty of” a guide. They think that he is bound to obey, without remonstrance on his part, any orders, however unreasonable, that his employer may give him. They expect no common-sense, education, or knowledge of the world from him, so they treat him as if he were a clumsily constructed machine, capable of running in the groove of an oft-traversed track, and of nothing else.
Now, it is a pity that such ignorance should prevail on the subject, and I propose to do my humble share in dispelling some of it by pointing out the chief characteristics of a first-rate Alpine guide, and backing up my opinion by anecdotes of the behaviour of some of the masters of mountain-craft when confronted with exceptionally strong calls on their capacity.
Before going further, I should like to say something of the early training of a guide. He usually makes acquaintance with climbing when very young, his first scrambles being often undertaken in the company of the goats. In time he gains confidence, steadiness of head and foot, and a knowledge of the limit of his powers. As years go on, he is perhaps taken out chamois-shooting by his father, and in summer he obtains an occasional engagement as porter on an ascent of more or less difficulty. If he has definitely resolved to be a guide, he will do his best to get work of this sort, and it often happens that an active young porter, who has carried one’s rugs and firewood to a bivouac over-night, begs to join the expedition in the morning, “just to learn the way.” In reality, his chief object is to secure a few lines of commendation in his book, which will help him to future engagements, and will also be so much to the good when he puts forward his claim to a certificate as guide. When ascending the Jungfrau some years ago, our porter, at his urgent request, came on with us to the top, and it was interesting to notice the careful teaching which my two veteran guides, old Peter Baumann and old Peter Kaufmann, bestowed on him. It was the youth’s first mountain, and I could see that he strained every nerve to avoid a slip and to gain my good opinion, in which he certainly succeeded, for he went very well, though he was, not unnaturally, scared at the huge crevasses below the Bergli, the glacier being just then in a particularly bad state. Very different was the behaviour of another porter, chartered to carry my camera on any easy snow-ascent. He, too, had never before set foot on a mountain, and he commenced his antics at the snout of the Forno glacier, which he mounted on all-fours. Farther on he objected to the crevasses, and when we reached the arête, he was so formidable an appendage on the rope that we untied, and went up the last rocks in two parties, on two ropes, another lady, an Eton boy, and I leading, and the porter and the two guides following!
A porter, if he shows good climbing capacity, will often be taken in the height of the season, when guides are scarce, to accompany a guide and a traveller in the less difficult ascents, in order that there may be three on the rope, an important matter on snow. He will probably undertake most of the carrying, for the simple reason that the guide leads and cuts the steps, and, in descending, comes down last, in both of which cases it is well for him not to be burdened with a knapsack, but to give his full powers to his work in ascending, and in coming down to be the more secure in his responsible position of “last man.”
Occasionally the boy becomes a guide without passing through the intermediate state of a porter. Here is an account of Joseph Imboden’s experiences. I had the details from the guide himself, but the account is also to be found in the biographical notice written by Mr. G. S. Barnes in “The Pioneers of the Alps.”[1] “When I was a boy,” Imboden began, “my father wished me to take up shoemaking as a trade, and at fifteen he apprenticed me to a man in the Rhonethal. But I hated the life, and as soon as I had saved twenty francs I ran away to the Riffel, where I stayed, and spent my time in asking people to let me take them up mountains. They, however, always said to me, ‘Young man, where is your book?’ I replied that my book was at home, but they would not believe me. At last, when my twenty francs were nearly gone, I contrived to persuade a young English gentleman to allow me to take him up the Cima di Jazzi. He was pleased with the way I guided him, and the day after we went up Monte Rosa alone. He then offered to take me to Chamonix by the Col St. Théodule and the Col du Géant, and I was very glad to go; but first I told him the whole truth. I said, ‘All I have told you up to now was lies; I had never been up a mountain till I went with you; but if you will trust me now, I am sure I can satisfy you.’ He said he would, and we went to Chamonix and did some climbs there. I bought a book, and he wrote a good account of me in it. Since then I have never been in want of employment.” Such is Joseph Imboden’s early history, and his friends will admit that it is thoroughly characteristic of the since famous guide.
A porter desiring to become a guide must generally pass an examination in a variety of subjects which are not of the slightest importance to him in his future profession. The occasion is dignified by the presence of the guide-chef (or head of the Society of Guides) and other local magnates, before whom the guides-aspirants, as they are called, are put through their facings. After questions are asked in arithmetic, geography, history, &c., the examination at which I “assisted” went on to deal with mountain-craft, on which subject the porters’ ideas were even more peculiar than on other matters. One young man asserted, in perfect good faith, that if his Herr did not obey him, he should consider it his duty to beat him, while another calmly said that if he met with an obstacle on an ascent, the right course to pursue was to return home! At the conclusion of the examination, which all contrived in one way or another to shuffle through, the guide-chef made a little speech, in which he exhorted the new guides to be an honour to their profession. I made notes at the time of the more amusing questions and answers, and these I have published in a former work.[2]
Having now considered the technical conditions which, combined, form a duly qualified guide, let us see what characteristics are required to place him in the front rank of his profession.