To find the long snow pass in its most romantic form one must look for it in a region where a great mountain range divides districts of strongly contrasted scenic character. There can be no doubt whither we should turn. The great range that gazes southward over Italy and northward into Switzerland perfectly fulfils the conditions. This culminates along the watershed south of Zermatt, which place is therefore indicated as the starting-point at one end. Of the long snow passes leading southward from Zermatt, the Lysjoch undoubtedly takes first place for magnificence of scenery throughout the whole length of its route. Gymnastic climbers may ask, Why not the Sesiajoch? On the north its route coincides with that of the Lysjoch, but on the south they diverge, and the easier route lies through finer if less catastrophic scenery. The Sesiajoch plunges down a great wall, and the view does not vary for a long time. The Lysjoch leads down one of the loveliest glacier valleys in Europe and affords endless variety. There is really no comparison between the two.
We may therefore select the Lysjoch as type of the noblest kind of Alpine pass. Consider what wealth of interest it supplies to those who traverse it from Zermatt at one end to Gressoney at the other; for to enjoy a pass properly it should be followed from village to village throughout its full length, and not merely from hut to hut. The modern method of zigzagging across the crest of a chain without descending far below the snow-line, taking one pass one day and another the next, is, I am aware, not without fascinations, to which who has not succumbed? but it is not the best way to enjoy scenery, for it lacks the enforcing emphasis which the exchange of levels yields.
It is of the essence of such a pass as the Lysjoch that it leads you from the foot of a great glacier, up through its whole length to its head, and then from the head of another glacier down to its foot. It thus traces a definite and natural succession of the features of a glacier. It is like following the course of a river from mouth to source, or passing through the progress of the seasons of a year. From step to step there is a succession of related features, each being another stage of the one before and of the one next to follow. Thus there is a growth of interest. What you behold is not a mere succession of unrelated vistas. Each foreground in turn implies all that has been passed and all that is yet to come on the upward way. True, convenience generally dictates that you shall not actually enter upon a glacier at its extreme foot, and mount right up it to its head. There is probably better going for part of the way along the bank. But the glacier is commonly close at hand and in full view most of the time, so that you become familiar with it at all points of its course. To ascend it is to advance through stages of increasing glory and purity. First you have its shabby moraine-strewn extremity; then its cleaner surface and open white crevasses. Higher up they turn continually bluer and the ice grows still whiter. The glacier widens; the slopes that border it become less grassy. You are leaving the habitable, profitable world behind, and approaching the clean undevelopable lands, which man may visit but where he must not dwell. The naked crags stand forth on either hand, furrowed with snow couloirs, and clothed with white raiment. Now you come to the snow-covered surface of the glacier itself. Blue-looking pools of water may be seen here and there. The snow becomes purer as you advance. There are no more dust-patches or groups of rocks interrupting the clean surface. Higher up, the glacier breaks into bolder forms as it pours down over steeper and more rugged slopes. The séracs tower aloft, fantastic in form and unstable in position. Great crevasses marvellously coloured in their depths yawn all about. You wind your way amongst them, creeping over snow-bridges and under impending walls and pinnacles of ice, all decked with sparkling icicles. Finally, you emerge on to some gentler-sloping, wide-expanding field of spotless snow, that only a gentle undulation diversifies with the most delicately displayed modelling. All around are steep slopes of snow or ice, cliffs of newly-riven rock, avalanche tracks and heaps of ruin. The details of the high peaks can be distinguished, their overhanging cornices, their furrowed sides. Ahead, and not so far away, is now the pass--a broad opening between great heaped-up domes of snow, perhaps with crests of rock cutting through. The slope grows easier. At last the ground is level, and a distant view opens before you as behind. You are on the top.