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Later.

  The message is small account; it says the box is empty save for a small bit of linen – the contents of the box is linen and is stiff with batter.

  Asked for further directions.

  The stream of the corrie is starting at Ford. Yes, you follow the corrie, or some say coire, and it goes to the bogland at altitude already mentioned – 3,060 feet.

  Yes, it is a burn, though the word is new to me.

  I regret my gernadion [messenger] is no longer here, but from the report delivered the news was on climbing the corrie, or I believe korrie, I noticed a box I think he called it, and in it a cloot (I think it is a cloot with a k sound) of linen. This, I am afraid, is the extent of the message, which I will repeat in one particular. The word of the gernadion is in Scots and represents box-mullie.

  What is a mullie?

  The error is mine — I am sorry my Scots is poor, but it is new to me. The gernadion spoke of the box or a tin as a mull-lie, a diminutive of mull – that is a little mull.

  This is all for the present, but he will return with more news and I fear more Hieland jawbreakers.

  Later.

  There is little more to report, but this may interest you. Tomorrow no search will take place and all trace of the mullie – I use advisedly the word of the messenger – will, I fear, be lost. This, though, I say. To climb the corrie is easy – it is commonly used by – help me with this—ghillies – pronounced ghilly, a species of gamekeeper, from (locally known as) the Big House, I believe Achallader House, near Ford. This route adhered to will prove the great help. The snow still falls increasingly, and I fear that many clues already known to the helpers will be obliterated. One thing remains that it is at about altitudes about 3,060 feet that the find will be made when they do, weeks likely from now.

  This is sent with the hope it might be useful – in any case no harm could be done by trying to verify it – one route is as good as another when looking for something where no clue already exists.

  Anxious to Help

  The next letter addressed to Mr Stewart was dated 6 April 1925.

  Dear Sir,

  I am sorry we have much to give you since my last, but it may be of interest – especially to the “speculators”!

  Saturday, 3.00 pm

  I say they have your letters, and whilst laughing in their faces I should say it is not in their hearts – they say what is this, who is this? Yet do they say they know something of the affair. Today, but not yesterday, a large force is working and two men are going in the true line of search.

  Who are they?

  That I fear me is all I can say until the return of the gernadion.

  [Captain McLaren and a fellow rescuer were, at the time indicated, heading in the right direction.]

  Saturday, 9.00 pm

  The gernadion is not yet with us. I regret to say the box, or as we have said, the mullie, has not been seen, nor can I wonder. My last advice is take the corrie at Achallader House, which is to say ford, and at altitude given, and to the north you should encounter your object. There is a dark stone ridge – I forget the technical name – at or near the spot.

  Is the ridge covered with snow?

  Well, it is as though the snow had covered up the middle part without covering the top or the bottom. It is visible.

  This last in answer to a question I forget what.

  To the searchers I say, walk warily for it is deep.

  Is there a precipice?

  Yes it is a precipice – I could think only of cliff, and that was not the word. I think Mak Lairen said Heugh or Kleugh.

  Has he been near the spot?

  Yes, and Captain McLaren several times. [This was verified by McLaren.]

  11.00 pm

  The gernadion has returned. Here is the report. Much talk at Inveroran, and much talk at Tyndrum. They are speculating as to who the comrades are, (ourselves I suppose). They say they too have a definite clue. But I do not believe them as they were too far north. Tomorrow if weather permits, a still greater search will be made. Two of the company believe your good faith – one is called Walker. That concludes my report.

  Will the information about the ridge be any good as a further report?

  No, I cannot say it will help any more than what I have already written.

  Have they got the rough map I sent?

  Yes, and they say it is the copy of a map.

  Can they make anything of it?

  Yes, it is quite intelligible to them. Ford is well known to them.

  On the back of the map there was reverse drawing. It almost looked as if it had been drawn on carbon paper. Considerable confusion was caused in attempting to interpret this on the wrong side, for the rescuers at first thought it to be an independent map.

  Monday, 4.00 pm

  My sole news is that owing to bad weather the large company did not materialise and no search of the high ground was possible. The letters (Ours I suppose) have much comment and some heed is now being paid. Stewart says, “I know no one in Peterhead.”

  We might only remark that the sketch we sent was not a copy of a map if such a criticism has actually been made. It was sent in good faith by us as we got it and for what it was worth. The only ford we knew was at the far end of Loch Awe, and we could not connect Achallader with that direction – hence the questions and answers regarding it. We have failed to see any news in the Herald since Friday of the search, and all our information we have got from the unusual source originally indicated. We may say that a copy of the Oban Times came into our hands on Saturday (of the previous week), and we got a number of particulars of which we had been unaware – such as that the missing man had parted from his friends apparently after a considerable climb had been made. This would indicate that those on the spot must be aware of the original route taken at the start of the climb – this we were not aware of.

  Still Anxious to Help

  The search was rewarded by success on Sunday 13 April. A considerable thaw had now taken place exactly three weeks after Henderson went missing. Duncan Smith found the body lying face down in a small depression almost exactly where it had been indicated on the “spiritual” map, and at the altitude given – 3,060 feet. Alexander Henderson was lying most probably in the position in which he had come to rest, with both arms in front of his face as if to protect it. The toes of his boots were still pressed into the snow as if they had been arresting his fall, but he most likely came to rest on this easier ground through colliding with a frozen rock, which was supporting him between his legs. He had no broken bones, but there was a large gash on his forehead, two of his upper teeth were missing also his lower front teeth. Later his ice axe was found 150 feet higher and this seems to indicate that he fell from the steeper rocks above, made highly treacherous with ice. Henderson’s body was carried down to Achallader farm, then to Bridge of Orchy church before he was buried in his home town of Cupar.

  Though Duncan Smith denied that he obtained any help from the sketch map and the letters, indeed maintained that the information misled him, the fact remains that he did find Henderson at the exact point indicated on the “spiritual” map.

  Regarding the other “clues”, the box or tin or “mullie” was never found, though in Henderson’s rucksack, which he was still wearing, a broken vacuum flask protruded through the canvas. Some said this could have been the object mentioned by the gernadion, others thought it could have been a tin with a linen-backed map inside. A cloot is an old Scots word for a pudding cloth. And as for the mullie, that’s a diminutive of mull, which, as well as a promontary, can also mean a snuffbox.

  There was considerable interest as to the source of these strange letters and a reporter from the Dundee Advertiser succeeded in tracking down the writer if not the source. The trail led to one Mr Norman MacDiarmid at Buchan Ness Lodge at Boddam in Aberdeenshire which at one time had been a shooting box for the Earls of Aberdeen. He was thirty-eight years old, born in the West of Scotland, educated in Glasgow, and a man of privat
e means. He contributed articles on natural history to magazines. Though Norman MacDiarmid would admit to no part of the letter writing, a statement was obtained from a close friend of his. The account of his friend, who wished to remain anonymous, is as follows:

  Altogether there were six of us gathered together in my house – a friend, my wife, my daughter, myself and two others. The medium and writer of the messages was my friend, who has previously had most startling messages sent in this way. He simply sits down with a paper on his knee and a pencil in hand, which commences to write backwards. The written matter has the appearance of what might appear on blotting paper after it had been used to dry the ink of a communication, and has to be read by means of a mirror.

  On this evening my friends and the others were sitting in the room chatting and joking, and while we were thus engaged his hand began to write. Previously, when in his own home, he had got a sketch drawn by this method, but up to then he had not been able to interpret its significance. The words came through slowly, and gradually the story unfolded itself. We immediately saw that we were getting information with regard to the Argyllshire mystery. The message indicated that we would be guided by a “mullie” or tin, in which would be a linen “clout”, and that although snow was still falling at the moment, the tin would still be visible.

  Interspersed through the message came most irrelevant matter, some of it silly stuff, but this we had just to sift out. I can vouch for the fact that the whole thing was genuine. I was a bit sceptical up to that time, but I am now convinced, although spiritualism has absolutely nothing to do with it. The whole thing came through without any inquiry being made about the Argyllshire affair, and when we were discussing other matters.

  There was nothing of the nature of a seance about the meeting, which was purely a social affair in my own sitting-room. As a matter of fact, I was pottering about with my wireless set at the time.

  It was apparent that Norman MacDiarmid had a gift before this incident. He and some of his friends had held seances for entertainment. On such occasions he would suddenly commence to write backwards at great speed. One such seance had uncanny accuracy. MacDiarmid’s hand had drawn two cars, one large, one small. The small car had the word “Me” beside it and underneath the name and address of someone in Musselburgh. Next day they were all shocked to read that a youth of that name and address had been killed in a road accident in Musselburgh about the time Norman had drawn his sketch.

  I’m sceptical about spiritual assistance in searching for missing persons, and know of several instances where it was tried unsuccessfully. However, the Beinn Achaladair incident does make one think twice about ESP and it appears that the information volunteered had a degree of accuracy. At the time it must be said that members of the Scottish Mountaineering Club were suspicious of the letters, and George Sang wrote an article debunking them in the Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal; but even he had grudgingly to admit that Henderson’s body was found where it was shown on the sketch and at the precise altitude.

  Perhaps we should allow Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who had an abiding interest in spiritualism, to have the last words on the matter:

  I would say a word as to the Achallader case, which is an extremely instructive one. It is perfectly clear that some one or something brought information to Mr Norman MacDiarmid as to the position of the missing man. That is certain and undeniable. Even names of the search party were given. Now, who was it who brought that information? There are two possibilities. It may have been an unconscious extension of Mr MacDiarmid’s own personality. This is an explanation which should never be lost sight of. We are spirits here and now, though grievously held down by matter. What a spirit can do we can do if we get loose. I am just as sure that the explanation of many Mediumistic phenomena lies in this direction as I am that there is a large residue which could only come from external intelligent beings.

  Let us, however, exhaust this possibility. It means that the medium’s spirit went forth exploring and brought back information. But we have the evidence that the medium was perfectly normal at the time. We should have expected trance had his soul really left the body untenanted. Then, again, this strange messenger did not know Scotch. He had to ask for information from the medium. Is this consistent with the idea that he was actually part of the medium? Finally, he used some strange words which Mr MacDiarmid (who courteously answered my enquiries at the time) could not explain. I think that these words cast some light upon who this helpful spiritual being may have been.

  The first word was “gernadion”, used evidently in the sense of a messenger, an inferior messenger, apparently, who was sent out by some superior control. Upon Mr MacDiarmid asking what language “gernadion” was, the answer was “Eschadoc”. Now Eschadoc in Greek signifies “beyond the limits of humanity” and gernadion is connected with a Greek root which gives the idea of one who is bearing something. The latter may be obscure, but the former is perfectly clear. It was while discussing the incident with Mr H. A. Vachell, the famous novelist, that this discovery was suggested by him. It would seem then, that the main control is a Greek – probably an ancient Greek who retains some memory of his old Speech. It would certainly be interesting to know what knowledge Mr MacDiarmid has of Greek, but undoubtedly in his normal state he was not aware of the derivation of these words.

  This fact disposes also of the possibility that the messenger was actually the spirit of the lost traveller. The only supposition which covers the case seems to me to be that Mr MacDiarmid’s control or guardian spirit is a Greek, that he interested himself in the case of the traveller, that he had messengers at his beck, that he sent them forth, and that he then conveyed the result to the brain and the hand of the medium. If there is any better explanation which does not ignore the facts I should be glad to hear of it.

  The Matterhorn and the Bergschrund

  Ludwig Gramminger

  It was in the wake of the last war that I first made acquaintance with the Zmutt Ridge of the Matterhorn. As a kilted, inexperienced fledgeling, I was taken under the wings of two established canons of the mountains, George Ritchie and Derek Haworth, the first a solicitor, the second a doctor. With the objective of the Matterhorn’s Zmutt Ridge determinedly implanted in our minds we made our way to the Schönbühl hut; our guidebook a postcard bought in Zermatt. My financial state was reflected in my lack of equipment; I didn’t even have crampons.

  The normal way to climb the Zmutt Ridge is from the Hörnli hut at the start of the ordinary route up the Matterhorn. We set out about 2.00 am when the saner Swiss dream of sheep in green pastures. In so doing, with only the light of a flickering candle lantern, we lost our way and inadvertently ventured into the jaws of the notorious Penhall Couloir which spewed rocks as soon as the sun touched the summit.

  We endured the adventure, as did fortunately, Ludwig Gramminger and his companions several years later, for in 1956 in this same high angled corridor Ludwig was faced with the appalling prospect of getting his three injured companions back to safety, one of them gravely hurt. He describes the ordeal and, typical of the man, passes lightly over the momentous labour in rescuing his friends. It was an exacting test of his ability as a rescuer and of his proficiency as a mountaineer.

  In the summer of 1956 two climbers from Saxony, Vogel and Zireis, got into difficulties on the Zmutt Ridge of the Matterhorn. They had come to Zermatt by motorbike with the intention of training on the Matterhorn for an attempt later on the Eigerwand. They set up their tent at the foot of the mountain on the banks of the Visp. The two, both from Saxony, climbed to the Hörnli hut, spent the night there, and then set off to climb the Zmutt Ridge and descend by the Hörnli Ridge. They left their sleeping bags in the Hörnli hut. After eight days the empty tent on the Visp bank drew attention. Police enquiries indicated that the two had not returned from their Matterhorn climb. The weather was very bad at the time this was discovered, but as soon as it improved, a guided party and two guideless Viennese climbers started up the Zmu
tt Ridge. After the Zmutt Pinnacles at the point where one traverses into the Carrel Gallery (Carrel’s Corridor), one of the Viennese spotted a climber in front, above and to one side, wearing a red ski cap. At first he thought it must be the guide of the second party but quickly realised that this was silly for they were behind. He waited for the guide to catch up and pointed out his discovery. The guide was puzzled and traversed across the face to discover a frozen climber in a bivouac. The man had frozen to death in a sitting position, secured to a peg. The guide took a few photographs, then cut the body free and dropped it down the West Face. This upset Herr Caplan, one of the climbers in his party, and he protested strongly against the guide’s action.

  In Zermatt later the incident was discussed; it was a delicate matter for the father of one of the missing men, Herr Vogel, had already offered a reward for the finding of his son’s body. It was perhaps fortunate that from the photographs one couldn’t tell if it was Vogel’s body which had been found or his companion, Zireis. After these events the weather became very bad, the guide announced that he had made a search for the body, but had found nothing.

  Some time later Herr Vogel came to the offices of the Bergwacht in Munich and asked for their help to locate his son’s body. He said that he had no further confidence in the Zermatt guides. I had to tell him that after the recent bad weather and heavy snowfalls high up, there was very little prospect of finding the missing men that year. “Even the best Swiss guides would have small chance of doing so,” I added.

  Understandably, Herr Vogel continued to press for a search, so I relented and promised to organise one right away. For my companion I chose my old friend, the guide Anderl Heckmair who was then nearly fifty, and as the weather had just turned for the better, we decided to leave immediately for the Valais. It was 1st October, 1956. At the last moment Herr Vogel brought along two men to accompany us, two friends of the missing Saxons, Lothar Brandler and Klaus Buschmann. We weren’t enamoured of the idea but, as there was room in the car, we agreed.