To Juliet Pollock   17th Aug. 1860

17^th Aug. 1860.

My dear M^rs Pollock,

I reached this place¹ late yesterday evening on my way to Zermatt, and this morning the air is crammed with fog which empties itself in thick rain upon the earth—while waiting for it to clear the thought of writing to you occurred to me—more indeed for my own amusement than for yours, for I have but little to write about. At the station of Troyes in France a Cambridge man named Hawkins² whom I knew to be both a good mountaineer & an able man came into the carriage which I occupied, and his plans being indefinite we agreed to work together for a time. He has been my companion ever since. We first went to Grindelwald and measured the motion of the glacier: we should have climbed the Wetterhorn had the weather been favourable. From Lauterbrunnen our desire was to get over to the Canton de Valais in a day, which could only be done by scaling the mountain wall which divides the said Canton from that of Berne, the salient points of the wall being the Junfrau,³ the Breithorn, the Mittagshorn⁴ and other formidable mountains which linked together by lofty ridges which had never been crossed. Between 3 & 4 A.M. on Thursday the 9^th we quitted Lauterbrunnen and a journey of 4½ hours brought us to the base of the wall. We chose a kind of couloir⁵ against which some snow was firmly stuck, being deeply furrowed by the avalanches which had been discharged from the summit. We had two strong men with us as guides;⁶ but before we had climbed half the declivity they showed signs of giving way, manifestly thinking the thing impracticable. They saw the snow whirled by the wind at the summit, and said that this alone would defeat us. Once I quitted the couloir and sought to get up among the rocks. They were very steep, and I soon found myself at some height above my companions. I had at length to get round a promontory which overhung, and which afforded me but half a grasp for my hands, while underneath me was an edge of snow. I edged round as far as I could but had at length to submit and ignominiously call to my guide for a helping hand. He slowly worked his way up to me and helped me off my perch. For seven hours we tugged up this pass—near its summit we were sometimes on ice, and some of the rocks over which we clambered had all their crevices & depressions filled with ice. The snow-dust moreover was often bewildering, and we suffered from the cold. The men showed no great spirit—they were weary & daunted, and would have given way at any moment had they received the slightest encouragement to do so. But seven hours work placed us on the top, and the slope on the other side led us gently down to the great Aletsch glacier, which we quitted as night began to fall. We made our way over the Alps towards the hotel of the AEggischhorn, but we were all tired and our progress was slow—one of the men became ill, and finally darkness came and completely hid the route. The men sat down upon the Alp and sounded the jodel,⁷ and after some time it was answered by a cry from a distance, and we were fortunate enough to find a senner⁸ who undertook to conduct us. But he also lost his way, and finally the jodel again sounded brought a light toward us from the hotel, which we reached between 9 and 10 P.M.

We remained in the neighbourhood of the Aletsch glacier for a week. The Barnetts⁹ were there during a part of the time, and we made some excursions together. Hawkins and myself were also engaged in determining the motion of this grand ice-stream. Some of the views to be obtained from it are of exceeding magnificence, and all the more precious inasmuch as the fair intervals which permitted us to see them were exceedingly rare. Yesterday morning we quitted the AEggischhorn & rode down the Rhone valley to Visp, walking afterwards to St. Nicholas,¹⁰ on our way to Zermatt. At St. Niklaus we now remain, perfectly hemmed in by the weather—the rain is atrocious but I look forward to better times. A north wind creeps up the valley—while the motion overhead seems from the south—at the common boundary of these two currents the rain is formed, and I hope the northern element will finally prevail, and purify the atmosphere.

To-morrow I hope we shall be able to cross the Theodule Pass¹¹ to Breul,¹² where we intend to remain for some days—If the weather be only propitious there might be a chance of my being able to write you a more interesting letter after we have finished at Breul:¹³ But no plans are safe at present.

I was very sorry not to be able to help you as regards the German hymn: the friend to whom I purposed to write is a profound man, but not a poetic one, and hence on reflection I did not write to him. I shall have my pleasure in following you through Frazer,¹⁴ and in cutting you up if you give me any opportunity. Good bye. Love to the boys

Always yours | J. Tyndall.

I hope to be at Chamouni¹⁵ in ten days from the present time.

British Library, Add MS 63092, ff. 205–6

RI MS JT/1/TYP/6/1968–9