|King Albert I|
"I will not be deprived of my rights as a citizen because I happen to be a King," was a favourite saying of his. As a king, his life was so precious to his country that his advisers made every effort to keep him out of the trenches in war and away from the mountains in peace. But the King refused to be deprived of the right to which, as a citizen of Belgium, he was entitled, the right to imperil his life as and when he pleased.
To the King mountaineering was not mountain travel, but a duel between man and mountain. It is, of course, the determination to preserve the reality of that contest which is responsible for all new developments in mountaineering. The King sought out the climbs which tested him to the limit of his capacity, knowing well that this involved definite risks, since no man can measure himself fully against the mountains without peril.
He climbed a great deal alone among the small but difficult rock peaks which are within easy motoring distance of his villa on Lake Lucerne. He was not at his best on snow and ice, but he was a magnificent rock climber, and it was as an active partner, and not as a passenger, that he achieved a series of brilliant guideless climbs. Two members of the Kandahar Club, Walter Amstutz and Gotlieb Michel were his companions on expeditions of exceptional difficulty. Amstutz has given a list in Die Alpen of the King's climbs in the Dolomites and the Engelhörner and elsewhere. It is a list of which even a modern cragsman might be very proud.
On one occasion, as the King was creeping along an extremely exposed and treacherous traverse, one of his companions showed signs of perturbation. The King looked over his shoulder down into the depths below, and said, "Death is the fate of all true Alpinists," a remark which did little to reassure his companion.
Arnold Lunn, Come what may: an autobiography, Little, Brown and Co, 1941
Obituary for King Albert I in the Alpine Journal, with a list of his climbs (courtesy of the Toyohashi Alpine Club)