“Mountain photography” (9)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Composition: Arrangement, design or composition of the chosen subject within the picture space is very intangible, to say the least. It simply cannot be reduced to rule, except in the widest of terms, and though it is possible to set down a few obvious errors which it is probably desirable to avoid, the successful steering of an arrangement among these pitfalls does not of itself assure success. 

A composite picture in the Chinese manner by Chin San Long, FRPS.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

There is a definite scheme of formal landscape which has come down to us from the eighteenth century which has the merits of being harmless and necessary, if dull. For the concoction of conventional landscape in terms of foreground, middle distance, background and sky, all neatly divided into thirds or along "lines of beauty", is at least better than no sort of convention at all. The Print Room of the British Museum, and the provincial art galleries (one or two London galleries are provincial in this respect) are full of stiff compositions on these lines, but it is doubtful if much study of them with a view to imitation is very good for anyone.

Fujiyama by H G Ponting,  FRGS, FRPS.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Obvious errors of the kind I have mentioned include:

Exact symmetry. The mountain summit, the horizon line, the line of a lake or foreground tree is best kept away from the exact centre lines.

Equal divisions into areas of lake, mountain and sky are generally unpleasant. Lines of interest-roads, etc, with or without figures, tend to distract attention if they are at the extreme edge of a picture, or appear to be moving out of it.

Plain simple tones and lines are the easiest to deal with, a complex subject is not. This simplicity may be helped by the use of a long focus lens, or by choosing a foreground which does not assert itself and compete with the mountain for interest, to the detriment of the unity of the picture.

Figures in the foreground especially need care. If they are too large, they will attract too much attention; if too small, they might just as well not be there for all the help they give.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (8)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Choice of subject: Many mountains are subjects of inherent beauty and dramatic quality and have strong personalities of their own with which the photographer cannot compete.

The Matterhorn by H G Ponting, FRGS, FRPS.

Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Any attempt to express one's personality in a picture of, say, the MATTERHORN, is almost certain to result in a victory for the MATTERHORN. As CHARLES SIMPSON, R.I., says: "Subjects whose nature ensures a certain impressiveness as pictures ... mountains, lakes and scenic landscapes on the grand scale, do not afford the same opportunities for artistic paintings or photographs of those of a simpler character whose beauty has to be sought for and studied. Variations on a simple theme are more satisfying than grandiose panoramas."

Perhaps the idea worth aiming at may be conveyed in three imaginary comments by an observer of three mountain photographs, each of the WEISSHORN.

"I remember when we were caught in a storm on that."

The right comment for a record photograph. The mind of the observer has not been arrested by the surface of the print, but has passed on to the mountain itself, recognised it, and without any more consideration has recalled something from his memory.

"It's amazing how they get their cows up those slopes . . . Is that you standing among them?"

The WEISSHORN is lost at the top (or back) of the picture, whilst the interest has been seized by a group of cows and a man in the foreground. A very typical result of including too much.

"What a beautiful photograph. . . . Is it in the Alps?”

That may represent pictorial success to the photographer. It is recognised as beautiful, it is clearly accepted as a photograph and not an imitation of an etching or mezzotint, yet its subject matter is not a determining factor in appreciation but a mere afterthought.

A Himalayan glacier by F S Smythe.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

So that to make a first selection of subject matter, avoid scenes which conform to guidebook standards of beauty. Competent records of beauty spots can, indeed should, be made: the Blau-, Grün- or Schwarz-sees of the Continent; the BLEA TARNs at home; but their place is among the other documentary photographs of a district.

Into the same category of the pictorially impossible fall the impressive arrays of mountain summits catalogued at well-known Aussichtspunkte: and a good deal of conventional landscape in the traditional manner. Swiss scenery is especially difficult to handle with any degree of originality. Most valleys offer the mixture "as before". A few chalets, the ranks of pines, the glacier leading to the upper snows, and, finally, the rock buttresses of the distant peak standing crisply into the dark sky. One such photograph serves to ilustrate the type, all others are variations upon the same theme, and a succession of such views easily becomes dull.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (7)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Pictorial work: The greater part of this book is concerned with the production of competent record photographs. It is probable that a fairly general measure of agreement can be reached as to whether or not any particular print is a sound and straightforward piece of work approaching its aim of giving the observer as natural and realistic a rendering of the scene as possible, or whether it has achieved the limited objective for which it was intended, e.g. the rendering of distant detail, or the recording of exact proportions for the purpose of measurement. 

"Perfection of light and tone": the Biancograt by Andreas Pedrett.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

When photography aspires to be an artistic medium, differences and difficulties arise, for the camera is not an easy tool with which to secure that freedom of interpretation and personal expression which is supposed to be fundamental to art.

BERTRAM COX, F.R.P.S., puts the case very succinctly: "The photographer who is trying to produce something which shall have more than a transitory interest or value from the aesthetic point of view, might well consider how his position compares with that of the artist. First he has in his medium little or no opportunity for the exercise of any real creative ability. . . . Secondly, the photographer may become a master of his medium but even then its characteristics have been mainly determined by the manufacturer and are to a great extent inflexible. . . . What is left to him as a craftsman is the choice of selection from a variety of methods of arriving at slightly dissimilar results. Selection seems to be the only method by which he can work . . . he must be aware of what makes his selection worthwhile, and must be extremely critical for he has little control over problems of the elimination of the unessential."

Jingling Pot, Kingsdale, Yorkshire by E Simpson.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Before looking at mountain country as a hunting ground for good pictures, it is useful to consider what means of selection are at our disposal, and what ideas it is necessary to have in mind in making a choice. A picture, whether it be a painting, a photograph, a woodcut or an etching, is primarily an arrangement of line and tone within a selected space, which aims to be complete within that space and to speak its meaning to the observer in simple terms of tone or line or colour, as the case may be. An oil painting is expected to show something of what artists call the "quality of paint", a watercolour seeks to convey ideas and form in terms of transparent colour laid over white paper, and not to imitate tones of the depth and brilliance possible in oils. Similarly a photograph should conform to its own conventions and will be most acceptable if it confirms that the worker has accepted the discipline of photography and yet created a print which owes as much if not more to the manner of its taking than to subject interest.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (6)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

The middle way: For all ordinary purposes the best position on a mountain is around "half-way up the one opposite". There at least the lens of normal focal length can reach up to the summits and down to the valleys, enabling good use to be made of the picture area, and giving good proportion of upper detail to lower.

Winter in the Tyrol by Paul Wolff.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

The idea of a half-way position is not a precise one: somewhere above valley level and below summit level is the viewpoint we need. In favourable circumstances a viewpoint only 50 or 100 feet above the valley floor may be enough to open up the foreground so as to give a much better picture than in the valley itself.

A glen in the Cairngorms by G B Kearey FRPS, FIPB.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner. 

For instance, it is well worth trying for views just off a road, which always occupies too much of the foreground, and this expedient of moving a little way up the hillside can usefully be adopted. With mountains of moderate height, backed by higher neighbours, something a little lower than half-way may be best, for then the summit can be placed against a background of sky, as the highest point of the picture, whilst if a higher viewpoint is used, the bigger peaks may be a little too prominent.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (5)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

The high viewpoint: Summit views are troubled with an embarrassment of riches. The great panoramas extend on every side. Fold upon fold of the hills, summits innumerable, enter our field of view to confuse the eye and the mind. 

Aiguille de Roc du Grepon and the Dent du Geant.
Photo by C D Milner from his Mountain Photography.

From great heights, the vastness of the scene as a whole reduces the mountain tops to mere detail and all but the nearest peaks are rather like the furrows in tide-washed sand. Everyone who has been to the summit of a mountain takes such photographs or at least buys picture cards of them. And how disappointing they are! In trying to show everything they show nothing.

The ice arete of the Brenva by F S Smythe.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

There are rare exceptions. Mountains of equal height with the viewpoint do not abate their dignity; from the DENT BLANCHE, the MATTERHORN still soars above its glaciers. In the COOLIN, SGURR DEARG seen from SGURR ALASDAIR still puts a bold front to us, and in Wales SNOWDON towers above the intervening wall of the GLYDERs when we stand on the top of CARNEDD DAFYDD.

But where are the hills that put up such a brave show from the valley? Lost in the moraines perhaps, or hidden in a cloud layer a thousand feet below. In Britain the minor peaks may look like undulations in moorland. CNICHT, occasionally compared by the romantic to the MATTERHORN, only has this appearance from the flats of PORTMADOC, and from SNOWDON it is a little difficult to see "if the grass is at all long". Yes, summit views are unkind to the small hills: the RIFFELHORNS, the LANGDALES and the CNICHTS. Pictorially it is never easy, and frequently impossible, to do much with the wide view of this kind, unless considerable help is given by cloud forms . . . which is quite another matter.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (4)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Linear perspective: Mountains, even the minor hills of the PENNINE, are so big and usually so distant that impressions of scale and recession can only be assessed by other things, which are associated with distance and size. When there is obvious linear perspective in a scene the lines of a road converging to the horizon, or a similar line along the roofs of houses, we have no difficulty in perceiving distance. Even when the line is not obvious, we easily and subconsciously assess distance from the reduction in apparent size of well-known objects, such as houses, trees and men.

Unidentified waterfall and figure by Christof Croeber.

Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

In open mountain country obvious linear perspective is rare. It is occasionally seen in a mild form when rock faces are built in pronounced horizontal strata, as are the towers of the DOLOMITES. The occurrence of well-known objects is more frequent, and can usefully be employed in a photograph to give scale. The placing of a solitary figure in the foreground, however, usually large in relation to the picture space, does not give scale, but rather serves, by accentuating the small area of the distant mountain, to squash it.

On rappel: images by Ernst Baumann.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Figures are most satisfactorily employed to give scale to the plane in which they are seen. With lenses of normal angle of view, however, the useful limit within which figures can be introduced to serve this purpose of giving scale, is easily reached. At 240 yards a man's figure would occupy only half a degree of arc, in a photograph covering perhaps 40 or 50 degrees, and thus would be so insignificant a part of the picture that he would be in danger of being overlooked, even if his outline were clearly recorded by the lens. 

In the Tyrol (?): photo by Fritz Heimhuber (?).
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

On the other hand, figures tend to draw too much attention to themselves and so, quite apart from matters of perspective, should not be allowed too near the camera, if their purpose is subsidiary. Between 40 and 100 ft. are useful distances within which a figure or a small group can help to give an idea of the vastness of a view.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (3)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

The question of costs: Whatever type of camera is preferred, the amount of money one can reasonably afford to spend is an important consideration. To go abroad on holiday equipped with only a cheap camera intended to give passable results in one's garden snapshots is to risk failure or disappointment in photographing scenes and events which would have been of permanent value.

Figure from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

On the other hand, to spend an undue amount on equipment does not of itself assure success. It is really surprising what quality can be obtained with cameras, which are neither modern nor expensive, by workers who know what they are doing. It is equally surprising what appalling results a £100 miniature can yield when not handled with the skill it needs and deserves.

The man whose pocket is limited (and whose is not in these days?) may need to plan his expenditure very carefully, and perhaps will prefer to spend at most £10 or so on a camera and accessories so as to leave a balance available for his transport to the mountains; in preference to exhausting his money on an expensive luxury outfit and so restricting himself to hills nearer home.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (2)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Mountain districts abroad: Of all the greater mountain areas the most accessible to Britons are the ALPS themselves, stretching from France, through Switzerland and Italy to merge via the DOLOMITES and the Eastern Alps into the mountain mass of the Balkans. Before the war it was cheaper and quicker to visit SWITZERLAND from London than the Isle of Skye.

A ridge of the Tödi (Switzerland): photo by Andreas Pedrett.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner. 

For the better part of a century these districts have devoted themselves to the tourist traffic and though much of the scenery has been, so to speak, salted down into "beauty spots", yet the mountain areas are so great that much remains in an unspoilt and natural condition. At all levels, from the lakesides to the upper valleys and the last heights of rock and ice, the photographer will find no lack of subjects for his camera, and at all points there is adequate scope for little journeys off the beaten track, affording the chance of personal discovery of new and unusual viewpoints from which to photograph the hills.

Whilst the lower valleys, especially on the fertile and sunny southern slopes, are richly wooded in great variety, one might perhaps venture a complaint about the upper valleys which do not show great variety of tree growth. There is a certain sameness about them, as if they have been modelled according to a recipe of pine and fir tree, more pine tree with a little larch, picturesque chalets – and beyond all this rather "pretty" foreground, the glaciers and the peaks. Each valley represents minor variations on this excellent but restricted theme. Even RUSKIN, a great admirer and student of Swiss scenery, was compelled to become statistical in his consideration of this problem of pines, and to conclude that each valley must contain not less than five million.

Consequently, although many pleasant pictures can be made in the valleys in summer, the possibilities are fairly easily exhausted and then opportunities for striking photography are best sought at rather higher levels, where the trees thin out and the views open out a little more. Journeys to the many mountain huts will be productive of rich rewards. Most of these can be reached by little more than path walking - up rather steep paths it is true – but offering no difficulty to strong walkers and involving no dangerous glacier crossings or intricate route finding. In this way a night can be spent at higher levels, for the sake of the sunset and sunrise, neither of which is always visible in the deeply cut valley, and for the full views of the high snow peaks.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (1)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Approach to the subject: First attempts in mountains are not likely to yield much more than a series of prints giving food for thought and consideration of what not to do next time. There is an absence of the clear-cut forms of the town, of strong light and shade, and a lack of familiar elements unless friends are taken in the foreground: when the mountain may immediately be compelled to adopt a very subsidiary role. "That's the summit of SNOWDON just under Mary's hat."

On the summit plateau, Mt Blanc (detail) - photo by F S Smythe.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

It is best to begin with subjects where the sun is shining from one side — then the shapes of the hills are revealed. To have the light coming directly from behind the camera will show a very featureless result, whilst to use contre jour with the sun more or less directly in front of the lens demands skilled attention. A pale yellow filter — quite pale — will help to keep the sky in its proper place, instead of glaring blankly along the top of the picture. Beyond this, other kinds of filter may only confuse the mind, until experience has been gained.

I do not think overmuch attention should be given to "correct" composition in the early stages. It is more important to find out what range of subjects can be well photographed so as to make prints of sufficient interest and contrast and to be able to secure a series of well-exposed, sharp negatives, which include what it was intended to include. When this is achieved it is time enough to think about the best arrangement, the special effects obtainable with filters, about striking schemes of lighting and about tackling subjects in conditions so adverse that in the early days no hope of success could have been entertained.

In all this, of course, there will be happy accidents. The camera will, in spite of the inexperienced hand guiding it, occasionally produce something which gives the photographer a thrill of achievement, and spurs him on to attain the degree of skill which makes such rewards more frequent and certain.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

Mountaineering in Japan (3): "the Zermatt of Japan"

Continued: Walter Weston's guide to alpine activities in Japan during the 1930s.

THE NORTHERN JAPANESE ALPS: This group may best be treated along a line, east of the main range, running south from the neighbourhood of Itoigawa on the Sea of Japan down to Matsumoto, a distance of about 50 miles. The two places are in process of being linked up by Government and private railways. Matsumoto, at the south end, is easily reached from Tokyo, either by way of Hachioji, Kōfu, Shiwojiri, or by the line through Karuisawa, Shinonoi, and Akashina.

Snow crevasse on Hakuba.
Illustration from Walter Weston, The Playground of the Far East.

Ō Renge ("the Great Lotus Peak"), virtually synonymous with Hakuba, or more correctly, Shirouma (9,622 feet), is most conveniently climbed from Yotsuya, a village which is the head- quarters of a guides' association, as are also Ōmachi, Nakabusa, and Shimajima further south. Motor-buses run between Akashina and Yotsuya and some miles beyond. There is a good inn, the Yamakiya, at Yotsuya and several huts at various points on the ascent, including two on the summit. The climb offers no difficulties, but in most seasons good glissades are feasible on the descent, as there is usually a considerable amount of snow. The mountain slopes are famous for the abundance and variety of Alpine flowers. The ascent will occupy about four hours from the hut at the base, and with it can be combined that of Shakushidake and Kashima Yari on the true right bank of the main snow-field.

A very remarkable prospect, in every direction, is gained from the summit. The descent will gain in variety if the mountain is traversed by way of the Ōike, with its club-hut (7,500 feet), and the quaint hot springs of Renge-onsen, about 4,900 feet. The valley of the Himekawa is reached in three or four hours from the onsen at a point some 15 miles north of Yotsuya. From Yotsuya the light railway can be taken 15 miles southwards to Ōmachi, the starting point for the famous pass of the Harinoki-tōge (8,120 feet) which links this valley of the Himekawa with the west coast of Japan after passing over the important mountain mass of the Tateyama range. Next to the ascent of Shirouma, already described, and some climbs from Kamikōchi a little to the south, it is one of the most popular expeditions in the Japanese Alps. Ōmachi itself can also be reached by motor-bus from Akashina, on the main line from Karuisawa. The large and comfortable inn, the Taizan-kwan, has a landlord who is a mountaineer and skier of skill and wide experience. From Ōmachi to the summit of the Harinoki-tōge is a distance of about 17 miles, and though the route presents no mountaineering difficulties, it is of much interest on account of the scenery through which it passes.

A very short day takes one to the Osawa hut (about 5,500 feet) at the foot of the great snow-slope leading to the top of the pass, gained from here in about two hours, the angle of the upper part being about 40°.

Harinokidake: From the spacious hut on the pass the fine peak of Harinokidake (9,254 feet) is reached in one and a half hours, with a striking view of the Tateyama range and the wild gorge of the Kurobe-gawa. A direct descent to the river in four or five hours from the pass leads to a light suspension bridge beyond which are the huts of the Kurobe-daira (c. 4,600 feet). Good trout are to be taken here, the Japanese iwana (Salmo pluvialis).

In a short day's march from here, by way of the Kariyasu-tōge (6,211 feet) and the Zaragoe (7,720 feet) one can reach the famous and interesting spa of Tateyama Onsen (4,150 feet). A track leads from the west side of the Kariyasu-tōge to the hut on the Goshiki-ga-hara plateau,"the rainbow-hued moorland," one of the two or three most noted homes of the Alpine flowers of Japan.

Reaching Zaragoe in three hours from Kurobe-daira huts, a route to the north traverses, in about two hours more, the undulating ridge that culminates in the famous sacred peak of Tateyama (9,944 feet). From the Gohonsha, the summit shrine, a wonderful view in every direction is gained. A descent of 1,200 feet on the west leads to the pilgrims’ huts known as Murodō, close to which stand a Meteorological Observatory and a station of the Imperial Forestry Bureau.

From here a descent may be made over the plateau of Mida-ga-hara south-west to Tateyama Onsen in three to four hours; or via Ashikura to the city of Toyama by road and rail in a day and a half. There are several huts available on either route.

Tsurugi: From the top of Tateyama northwards a route leads to the climbers' hut at the base of the fine snow and rock peak of Tsurugi (9,836 feet), over Masago and Bessan. The whole climb from Kurobe-daira to the Tsurugi hut takes about ten to twelve hours. Tsurugi itself is one of the most Alpine of all the higher mountains in the Japanese Alps and involves a climb over interesting rocks and snow-slopes of some five to six hours from the hut to the col between Tsurugagozen and the final rather steep arête that leads to the summit. It is possible then to descend by a very rough and sometimes arduous route, at first by very long snow-fields, into the valley of the Kurobe-gawa and to the sea on the west coast railway. Several interesting onsen are met with in the lower reaches of the river.

An interesting starting-point for some expeditions south of Ōmachi and the Harinoki-tōge is Nakabusa Onsen, easily reached from the station of Azumi-Oiwake about midway between Ōmachi and Matsumoto. The onsen is very popular as a health resort and as a climbing centre, and there are many huts in the region. The valley of Nakabusa itself is very attractive, and is some eight miles in length from its actual entrance at the hamlet of Miyashiro with its splendid and ancient shrine.

Among the (granite) peaks easily accessible, all affording splendid views are Ariake-san (7,500 feet), two to three hours the onsen, and Tsubakuro (9,500 feet). From the hut near the base of the latter a track goes south along the ridge culminating in the summit of Ōtenjō (9,600 feet), near which is a hut. To the east of this ridge lies the fine peak of Jōnendake (9,600 feet), with a hut on its shoulder at 8,000 feet, also accessible from Kamikōchi.

A traverse of the south arête of Ōtenjō leads down ultimately to the Ninomata glen and the Yarisawa ravine. Various huts stand here and along the route up to Yari-ga-take (10,432 feet), the best-known of all the peaks of Alpine Japan. From the Yarisawa hut here it is a climb of about three hours or less to the summit. The Ninomata glen is the ultimate source of the beautiful river Adzusa-gawa, on the banks of which stands the "Zermatt" of Japan, Kamikōchi, at the foot of Hodaka-Yama.

A scramble of three to four hours from the onsen leads to the top of Kasumi-dake (8,600 feet, a granite mountain with couloirs and pinnacles of considerable interest to rock-climbers.

A route up Yari-ga-take, alternative to the one already mentioned, lies on the right bank of the Adzusa-gawa as far as the wild gorge Yoko-ō-dani. Up this a very rough scramble leads over the O-bami ridge and descends to the lower slopes of Yari, in about ten hours. In addition to the huts referred to, at the base of the mountain, there are several at about 9,000 feet, with one on the shoulder, about 10,000 feet. From here it is a 300-feet climb by broken rocks up the "spear" (yari) of the peak to the top (10,432 feet). On the west flank of the peak a striking "aiguille" juts out and affords an excellent scramble of 100 feet, for which some skill and a rope are needed.

Another interesting route up the upper portion of the main peak leads from the couloir at the head of the Takase-gawa on the north-east, which is reached from the hut Sessho-goya, 9,500 feet, over a sharp ridge to the (north) right of the hut.

The hot springs at Kamikochi.
Illustration from Walter Weston, The Playground of the Far East.

Kamikōchi (5,000 feet) lies in an open vale, on the right bank of the Adzusa-gawa. It can be reached from Matsumoto: (1) by a light electric railway running west in 30 minutes to the Alpine village of Shimajima, the centre of a Guides Association, at the entrance to a picturesque glen leading to the well-known pass of the Tokugo-tōge (7,100 feet) —a walk of seven to eight hours to the onsen of Kamikōchi. A hut stands on the top of the pass. (2) By a motor road from Shimajima to the onsen of Nakanoyu, by the banks of the Adzusa-gawa, and thence six miles walk, or a motor drive.

The village of Shimajima.
Illustration from Walter Weston, The Playground of the Far East.

Several large Japanese inns are here, of various sizes, while many students bivouac by the river-side during the summer months.

From here Yakedake (8,500 feet), a good example of a volcano, active quite recently, can be ascended in two to three hours. At its foot lies the Taisho lake, formed in 1915 by an eruption from several craters of rocks and mud that dammed up the waters of the Adzusa-gawa. Near this is also the small lake of Tashiro-ko, while at the foot of Hodaka-yama is the secluded mere of Myōjin-ike, well stocked with trout.

Oku Hodaka: Kamikōchi is the starting-point for the ascent of Oku Hodaka (10,466 feet), the highest granite peak in Japan. It may be climbed by the route which ascends the broad scree leading up the Shirasawa ravine, the upper part of which is a snow slope often ending in a bergschrund. Here at 8,000 feet we leave it for a steep rock buttress for two hours. The broken rocks beyond now ease off and the top is reached in about six hours from the onsen.

Another route, easier but rather longer, leaves the Shirasawa ravine near its upper end, and climbs the shapely peak of Mae Hodaka (10,138 feet) before descending to the saddle between it and Oku Hodaka.

From the summit of Oku Hodaka the splendid arête northwards can be followed to Yari-ga-take and offers the finest "ridge walking" in the whole of the Japanese Alps. There are huts in the earlier part of the climb, Karasawa-koya below the arête, about 8,200 feet on the east side of the ridge, and Hodaka-goya, 9,600 feet. The whole traverse usually takes about ten to twelve hours and involves considerable ups and downs over the various subsidiary peaks rising from the arête in the former half of the climb.

The Shirahone hot springs.
Illustration from Walter Weston, The Playground of the Far East.

Norikura-dake (9,929 feet) is an interesting, perhaps extinct, volcano, in this region, and can be reached without difficulty from Onogawa or Nakanoyu on the motor road from Shimajima to Kamikōchi. From Nakanoyu or from the onsen of Hirayu, some three or four hours farther on over the pass of the Abo-tōge, the ascent offers no difficulty though rough, and is in each case facilitated by huts both on the way up and on the summit. A good deal of snow is often found on the mountain. A descent to the quaint onsen of Shirahone (or Shirafune), in a ravine below the right bank of the Adzusa-gawa, is possible.

Ontake-san (10,051 feet) is one of the most famous of the sacred peaks of Japan, and also of great interest in view of the "occult” practices of the pilgrim bands known as the Ontake kyokwai, who make it their rendezvous for the principal rites: the ceremony of "bringing down the gods."

It is best ascended from Kiso-Fukushima (some 35 miles south of Matsumoto) on the Central Line in the Nakasendō valley. Fukushima offers accommodation of every type, and the mountain can be climbed by several routes. A good way is to ascend by that known as the Kurosawa, and to descend by the more attractive one of Ōtaki. The many pilgrims' huts, especially on the Kurosawa route, render the expedition one of great ease, some eight to ten hours up and less down.

Kiso-Komagatake (c. 9,500 feet) is a fine granite peak rising between the valley of the Kiso-gawa, west, and that of the Tenryū-gawa on the east. It forms the highest point of the long serrated ridge sometimes styled the Central Japanese Alps. It is best climbed from Agematsu, some six miles south of Fukushima on the same line. There are some good huts near the summit, but a traverse over the peak with descent into the valley of the Tenryū can be done in a long day. By rail and road from Miyata to Tokimata at the beginning of the famous rapids of the Tenryū and the nine to ten hours down them is a notable experience.

References

From Walter Weston's chapter on “Japan”, in Sydney Spencer (editor), Mountaineering: The Lonsdale Library Volume XVIII, London: Seeley Service & Co, 1934.

First steps to climbing (15): "loose rocks play strange tricks"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

It has often been asked whether a knowledge of geology is any use in climbing. Authorities, mostly theorists, differ on this point, but the writer has found it of no service.

The crucial pitch on Moss Ghyll, Scafell - the lower figure is
A D Godley, Fellow and Tutor of Magdalen College, Oxford.
Photo by the Abraham Brothers (detail), reprinted in A Hankinson, Camera on the Crags.

In many climbs with famous geologists the science has never asserted itself in any practical way. Loose structures certainly interest them most, and the fact that occasionally no stone has been left unturned in their efforts summitwards may prove trying to those below in a crumbling gully.

Truth to tell, loose sections on a mountain, big or little, may occur unexpectedly to the most skilled scientist, and the climber needs all his skill and care on such places. No thoughts can be spared for fossils or faults – only faults of judgment matter. Great discernment is necessary in the use of loose holds. The general plan is to distribute the weight as much as possible on as many holds as are available.

Loose rocks play strange tricks, and the beginner should, as far as possible, avoid notorious places. Large pieces as big as a cenotaph will frequently stand firm whilst one man mounts over them and the following climber may bring down the whole mass.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (14): "needs the utmost coolness"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

In fact, it will be obvious that this ready alertness is especially necessary during Alpine ascents – it is the key to success with safety. Presence of mind in sudden emergency, such as the appearance of falling stones, is of tremendous importance.

"Hold tight! A sudden slip into a snow-masked crevasse on the Jungfrau."
Original caption and photo from First Steps to Climbing. 

There is one startling event which though an ever-present risk, seldom happens in snow and ice climbing. That is a serious slip on a steep slope. A whole party may be dragged out of their steps, and with unnerving suddenness all the probabilities of tragedy are present.

To arrest the downward rush great resourcefulness is needed. It is absolutely no use to try to stop oneself by plunging the pick end of the axe into a hard snow-slope. It will instantly be dragged from the hands and left up above.

The proper mode of arresting progress is to grip the head of the ice-axe firmly and lie on it about chest-high, meanwhile gradually using the pick as a brake. Whole parties have been brought to a halt by this seemingly simple method, which to apply in actual practice needs the utmost coolness and ready skill.

These latter traits, added to a sporting unselfishness, seem a heritage of the Briton, and their reality is never more in evidence than in the sport of mountaineering. Alpinists of all nations appreciate these points, and it behoves our countrymen to uphold the worthy and glorious traditions of the past.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (13): "usually the amateur pays"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

After deciding on the Alpine district to be visited, the beginner's first step will be the choice of a guide. If the advice of some experienced friend is available, perhaps it may be possible to engage a good man in advance.

Downclimbing the Mönch.
Photo from G D Abraham, First Steps to Climbing.

The very best guides are often reserved a year, or at least a few months ahead, and with these the novice need not trouble. Very few, if any, of the guides are good teachers, but those of the highest class and famous specialists are perhaps worst of all in this respect. The only way to learn is to watch carefully every movement and method of the professional and note especially his methods of approach and selection of points of attack. Even on unknown mountains they seem instinctively to detect the weak places and formulate a route. The intelligent tyro will especially notice this, and questions asked regarding the why and wherefore of peculiar ways of tackling a big peak may be answered, though perhaps not always satisfactorily.

Failing a guide engaged in advance through an expert friend, the best plan is to book one after the arrival, and usually the hotel management will help in this, but some discretion is necessary. A personal interview is advisable, and a good deal can be judged from appearance. Usually a guide who speaks English, more or less, is nowadays to be obtained. Those who tout for jobs at the railway-stations are best avoided, and others who are part of the hotel staff should be chosen warily. 

The question of payment is sometimes troublesome, but this should be properly arranged and understood. In perfectly settled weather, if a really suitable man is available, an engagement for two weeks or more may be made at, for instance, 30 francs a day, whether any climbing takes place or not. This would include ascents of any of the ordinary peaks, and might, with very good fortune, involve six good expeditions in two weeks. 

A little extra payment might be required if certain special peaks or routes were included, and this question should be settled. The amateur would pay for the professional's food and drink during the excursions, and if the guide were engaged away from home, it should be understood who has to pay his hotel bill. Usually the amateur pays.

The other plan is to make no engagement, but pay for each peak by the tariff – that is, the official rate of payment fixed by the guides according to the standard of difficulty of the various peaks round each popular centre. For the average novice this latter plan is probably the best, and by using some tact, if a satisfactory guide is met with, he can be reserved for a succession of ascents. 

It may be noted that riches are not showered upon guides as in pre-war days, and there are more first-class men available. No longer does a wealthy climber hand his guide a sovereign to buy a pair of shoelaces and ask for no change.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

 

First steps to climbing (12): "a sound way of retreat"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

Hints to cragsmen – climbing down: With the exception of one or two famous ascents with the late O. G. Jones, all the writer's rock experience has been gained as the leader on the rope. During this long and still active climbing career numerous useful wrinkles have been learnt and, in this chapter, these practical aids can be mentioned. 

"A study in small footholds": Kern Knotts Crack - Great Gable.
Photo from G D Abraham, The Complete Mountaineer. 

Undoubtedly there are two outstanding and vastly important maxims of advice for the beginner-these are, firstly, climb slowly, and secondly, rely on the skilful use of the feet, not the hands. At the start there is an almost irresistible tendency to “rush” a steep stretch of difficult rock work. The idea is well expressed in the words so often used – "I want to get it over!" This is entirely wrong. "Slow but sure" must be the slogan of the safe climber.

Each movement should be carefully considered. Up to a certain point the balance may be perfectly preserved in relation to the available holds; then an apparently good hold for the fingers may tempt the cragsman to forsake the slow balance method. There may be no support ahead, and he will find himself hung up in such a position that return is, to say the least of it, ungraceful and unpleasant. 

Each forward move should be made with slow deliberation, a change of holds only being made when the new situation is proved sound and promises continuity. Moreover, it is a reliable rule not to push ahead up any excessively desperate place where return is impossible. Some supervening difficulty may necessitate descent. The safe leader always reckons on having a sound way of retreat open.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (11): "natural drain-pipes"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

Gullies might be described as chimneys on the biggest scale. They are the great rifts that split the faces of most precipitous mountains, and they vary in steepness considerably. Their interest lies mostly in overcoming the pitches which are formed where huge boulders, often as big as a small house, have fallen and become jammed between the walls.

The Devil's Kitchen (Snowdonia) with Llyn Idwal and Lake Ogwen below.
Photo from G D Abraham, The Complete Mountaineer.

Some of these are very impressive with the tremendous overhanging capstones looming overhead, often over a hundred feet high-and a deep black cave receding far under the great boulder. There are gullies of all shades of difficulty, and many abound in short, easy pitches most adaptable to beginners. They generally have the merit of giving a definite route, for having once entered into their recesses, any exit, except at the summit, may be more or less impossible.

Gully climbing has immense fascination and variety, but it should be unmistakably understood that it is almost entirely a development of British climbing. Gullies in the Alps are likely to be dangerous death-traps, for they are the natural drain-pipes down which the great peaks send their refuse. No climbing skill can avail against falling stones and ice; they are to be avoided. Apart from human agency, in British gullies the only falling thing usually encountered is falling water, though the writer's party once had a narrow escape from a falling bedstead. This was in the Great Gully on Snowdon, which has been spoilt by becoming the rubbish-shoot for the summit hotel.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (10): "that is what the rope is for"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

It is not unusual to meet a would-be climber whose ideas of the use of the rope are peculiar. 

On the Western Buttress of Lliwed.
Detail of photo in G D Abraham, The Complete Mountaineer. 

A friend was recently taking a beginner up the south-east gully on Great End, and having reached the top of the first pitch he hauled in the rope and called down to the novice, "Come on!" "All right," was the reply. But nothing happened, and the dialogue was repeated. Then the leader became anxious and asked if his charge was indisposed. "No!" came the reply, "I'm waiting for you to pull me up. Surely that's what the rope is for!" Thus it may be advisable here to deal with the practical elements of rock climbing…

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (9): "selfishness must be curbed"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

If the leader is selected, and in some situation finds himself unable to surmount a certain crucial difficulty, there should be no question of another member of the party taking his place. Numerous catastrophes have been due to this. 

Climbing slabs on the Charmoz.
Photo from G D Abraham, The Complete Mountaineer.

The terrible fall of four experts on the face of Scawfell Pinnacle followed the change of leadership. Undoubtedly the right man was leading on this occasion. Why he changed places and allowed a less experienced companion to attempt the desperate ascent of the hitherto unclimbed pitch where he had failed is a mountain mystery which will never be solved. 

There may be a temptation to forget this advice on easier climbs, but its soundness is undoubted at all times. The beginner should be orthodox on this point, and if his friends have the right spirit of true mountain comradeship, the happiness and success of his and their climbing career will be promoted. 

Selfishness must be curbed. Once the rope is tied on, the party becomes a human unit with a purpose to overcome some of the strongest of Nature's forces. Every member must do his best, and the greatest joys of climbing are when, with the summit attained, each one feels that he has had a share in promoting success.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (8): "slow but sure"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

The great point is to start uphill slowly. Imitate the slow, rolling, rhythmic gait of the Swiss guide, who can walk uphill all day without a rest and finish practically as fresh as he started. This is of tremendous importance. 

Crossing the bergschrund on the Schreckhorn.
Photo from G D Abraham, The Complete Mountaineer.

The mountaineer never knows what a day may bring forth; for instance, bad weather may develop and find the hurried or over-speeding "freshman" of the morning with little reserve of strength or resource when it is needed. Scores and scores of times the writer has seen this happen in Cumberland. In the Alps it may be a matter of life and death; this has been illustrated in the case of innumerable fatal disasters.

Frostbite, again, attacks an overdone party in a most mysterious and surprising fashion. The writer was once raced up an Alpine peak by two young climbers in charge of two careless Swiss guides. They reached the summit first, of course, but both were more or less exhausted by their rate of ascent. The day was bright and sunny. Certainly a chill northerly breeze blew over the crest, but the writer wore neither gloves, muffler, nor anything except ordinary clothing. Still, the two speedmen were suffering badly from frost-bite, mainly in the feet. After receiving the usual first aid by prolonged rubbing with snow, they proceeded valleywards painfully. The case proved serious and later some toes had to be removed. The plan "slow but sure" always tells in the end on the mountains, and when setting forth for a climb this should never be forgotten.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (7): "quinine should not be forgotten"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

A few practical medical hints may be of service. On lengthy snow expeditions toilet lanoline is as good a preventive of snow blistering as anything in the writer's experience. After such outings, the washing of the face with soap and water is inadvisable. A slight rub with a very soft towel followed by a face wash in warm milk is excellent.

With some experts a favourite but unsightly sun-burn preventive is Pommade Sèchehaye, a greasy mixture with an orange-brown ingredient that counteracts the actinic rays of the sun. Boric acid powder and ointment are simple and effective for abrasions. The latter is specially good for tender or blistered feet. Simple medicines of the English kind are not often procurable abroad, and many will suggest themselves as a personal matter, such as a favourite laxative. Those in tabloid form are the most convenient, and quinine should not be forgotten. 

Two or three roller bandages and some lint, as well as a supply of adhesive plaster, might be included. Suitable appetising luxuries, both liquid and solid, suggest themselves, but even the beginner might now be left to himself in such matters and in selecting other aids to comfort on the heights.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.

First steps to climbing (6): "this is a public danger"

Advice for tyro mountaineers from the nineteen-twenties

The rope is almost the simplest detail of equipment to describe. There is only one make to recommend, and that is the famous Alpine Club rope made originally by the late John Buckingham and now produced by Mr. Arthur Beale, 194 Shaftesbury Avenue, W.C. It is a three-strand structure of the best manila hemp, and is made practically proof against damp and rot. Lengths of 40, 60, 80, and 100 feet are usually in stock, but for average work a length of 80 feet will be found best for three climbers. In ordinary Alpine expeditions or easier British courses, 60 feet might suffice for the same number.

"'Twixt earth and sky on Gt. Gable: a characteristic snapshot of the author
on a steep "lead"- the downward pull of a long length of rope is well shown." 
Image and original caption from First Steps to Climbing.

Quite recently an English flax rope made by Messrs. Frost Bros., 342 Commercial Road, London, E., has been tested and used. It appears to be slightly stronger than the famous manila brand, but not so likely to stand rough wear on the rocks. This latter is of vital importance. Foreign-made climbing ropes are much inferior, especially the woven variety. One's own rope should be taken abroad and brought home also, for if left with the guides they usually use the long-lasting manila Alpine Club rope for indefinite years. This is a public danger....

It will be obvious that the rope is really a life line for some of the party at various times: and its careful examination now and again is necessary. Sometimes rocks fall upon it and, unknown to the party, jar the soundness of the fabric. There have been a few accidents from the parting of the rope thus damaged. Also a new or almost new rope that has been in disuse for some time should be thoroughly tested. Not long ago an unused rope when opened out on Great End could be pulled apart by the hands at several places. Mice were at first suspected, but later on it was discovered that in some way acid had been in contact with the rope. "Never lend your climbing rope to anybody" is undoubtedly a sound rule to make. Also never ask your best friend for such a loan; refusal is often difficult.

References

From George D. Abraham, First Steps to Climbing, Mills & Boon, Limited, London, 1923.