Lastly, the climber is refreshed and benefited by his pursuit, because that fresh and unpolluted mountain atmosphere has supplied the oxygen which he, by his muscular exercise, has caused to circulate rapidly and abundantly through every organ and tissue of his body.

XXIII. B

A BLIZZARD ON BEN LUI.

By W. W. NAISMITH.

WHEN Mr Douglas and I reached Tyndrum on the evening of the 5th March last, we were astonished to find more than half a foot of snow on the railway platform, for there had been none in the south.

During the night the wind howled drearily, and when, after an early breakfast, we left the hotel at 7.25, the clouds still scurried along before a northerly gale, although the white landscape was lit up with patches of sunshine. The depth and softness of the snow made the walk to the Lead Mines tedious work; but, trudging steadily without a halt, we reached that point in two hours. For half of the distance we used the tracks of somebody, with small boots and short legs, who had traversed the moor before us with a dog. Crossing the burn, the youthful Tay I presume, by the wooden bridge beside the sheep-pen, we made for the Windy Corrie," following a low ridge from which the wind had swept most of the snow. As we approached the corrie the fresh snow became very deep: in some drifts we were in nearly to the waist. We took turn about in making the holes, but progress was terribly slow. On the steeper slopes the quickest mode of ascent proved to be by crawling on hands and knees. We stopped for a little at the foot of the couloir in the middle of the corrie, by which we proposed to ascend, for the rock ridges were out of the question.

Ben Lui had hitherto been clear to the top, and we had noticed he had been smoking his pipe vigorously all morning, in a way his doctor would certainly not have approved of. Now, a small cloud enveloped the summit, and it remained there most of the time we were on the upper part of the mountain.

From the head of the couloir we went straight up to the ridge between the two tops. This ridge is often heavily corniced, but not so on this occasion, and where we struck it there was no cornice at all. The angle of the slope

increased, until near the top it was fully 50°, and we discussed the chances of starting an avalanche. Fortunately, however, the new snow was slightly shallower there than it had been further down, so that we could cut or kick steps in the solid material underneath. A furious gale was blowour backs to it, and were

ing up the snow wall, but we had

not much incommoded in the ascent.

The cairn when we reached it (12.5) was a lovely object. Owing to a short break in the clouds, the snow crystals were ablaze in the sunlight against a background of deep cobalt. We could stay only a minute or two at the cairn, for whenever we approached the edge of the east face, the wind and snowdrift were so vicious, that we were glad to take refuge in a snowy recess among the rocks on the west side, where we could draw breath comfortably.

To vary the descent, we meant to try the steep snow slope close to the cairn-a route taken by more than one party at New Year 1896—and to rejoin our previous track at the top of the couloir. The upper part of this slope was inclined at an angle of 48° measured (which is equal probably to about 60° estimated!), a slope which of course requires steps to be made. Near the top, too, the wind had torn off all the new snow, and left hard snow covered with a crust of ice. The question arose how to cut steps in the teeth of that awful blizzard. Apart from any difficulty in keeping one's balance, the powdery snow was driving up the slope in such an extraordinary way, that it was all but impossible to look down long enough to cut a decent step, and if that was managed, one had to turn round afterwards and gasp for breath. By using all our rope, however, the leader was held from the top while he made a series of shallow notches down the worst part of the slope. The rest of the way we descended backwards, with our eyes shut as much as possible, kicking steps into the under snow. It was a curious experience this blizzard coming from below. Before we had been exposed to it for two minutes, we resembled two polar bears. Talk of Nansen at 85° North latitude! Our clothes were soon converted into coats of mail. Our eyes and noses were filled with drifted snow. Icicles depended from our hair,

and even our cheeks were encrusted with ice. The fine dust penetrated every seam and opening in our attire. It drifted up our sleeves, and under coats and jerseys, and even formed snowballs in the sanctum of the watch pocket. It lodged in quantities inside of a woollen helmet, partially melted there, and then froze into solid ice. Had we not both kept hard at work kicking steps we could not long have withstood the cold; and, as it was, the limit of our endurance was almost reached.

When we eventually gained the couloir we found our former steps entirely filled; but that was of no consequence, as the worst of the blizzard was now over, and the going was easy. Very soon we took off the rope, and glissaded to the bottom of the corrie in great style, and with tons of snow accompanying us. We returned to Tyndrum before four, tired, but well pleased with our expedition.

MOUNTAINEERING WITH CYCLES.

BY W. DOUGLAS.

EVER since 1890, when I saw from the top of Ben Screel the splendid mountain of Lurven (Ladhar Bheinn), I had longed to visit the neighbourhood, and view from a closer standpoint the wild scenery of its grand and desolate corries, and see the rugged peaks which guard their precipitous sides. But as year on year sped by, and the country of Knoydart remained as far distant as ever, I began to think that if I was to realise my wish I had better make straight tracks for the hill, and that without further delay.

A close study of Bartholomew's map revealed the fact that a road ran from Invergarry to Kinlochhourn, and that there was a house at a place called Skiary, some two miles down the south side of the loch, where, according to Murray, "two beds, clean," were to be had. (If the writer of those three words would only apply for these beds late some winter's night I think, I would forgive him!) Thus, if the roads were suitable for cycling, it brought Loch Hourn within a day's journey from Edinburgh, and an idea struck me that a week-end excursion might be made to embrace the notable mountain of Lurven.

In this laudable plan I was gallantly backed up by Mr Rennie, and in spite of the unsettled condition of the weather, we fixed on a day early in April to make the attempt, in the anticipation that the "easterly monsoon which usually sets in about that time would have made its appearance, and have cleared the air of all the uncomfortable storms that had so persistently prevailed since the beginning of the year.

On the morning before our start a fresh fall of snow actually covered the ground to the depth of an inch, but this was quickly licked up by the sun, and as the glass hopefully indicated a rise, we decided to trust ourselves to fate, which was kind enough in this instance to reward our confidence by bestowing on us three of the most brilliant