CHRISTIAN HÄSLER

(1889-1940)

With the passing of Christian Häsler on October 31st, 1940, a strong and skillful climber, a capable and resourceful guide, a splendid companion, and a gay and wholesome spirit has left us, and all who had the privilege of really knowing him will sorrow.

Christian was born in the hamlet of Gsteigweiler, near Grindel- wald, on December 15th, 1889, and was in his fifty-first year at the time of his death. He received his guide’s license from the Swiss Alpine Club at Meiringen, Switzerland, in 1911, and came to Canada in 1912, replacing his father, Christian Häsler, Sr., famous in the early history of climbing in the Canadian Rockies. His wife, Rose Margaret Feuz, came with him and they were married the day after their arrival in Golden. Their home was in the Swiss village of Edelweiss built by the Canadian Pacific Railroad on a hillside above Golden. Christian was stationed at Field but was transferred in the following year to Glacier House, where he remained for many seasons. Not the least of the inducements to visit that delightful hostelry of days long past, was the opportunity of visiting and—if weather permitted—climbing with “Chris.” After the closing of Glacier House in the autumn of 1925, he was regularly to be found at Lake Louise.

Having been one of the younger guides in the Canadian Rockies, fewer first ascents by him are recorded than for some of the others, among those credited to him being: Beaver Mtn. and Mt. Duncan (1913) ; Uto Peak (first traverse), and Tomatin and Findhorn Peaks of Mt. McBean (1914) ; two new routes on Mt. Fox (1916, 1924) ; Iconoclast Mtn. and two neighboring unnamed peaks (1924) ; Camarade, on the E. ridge of Augustine Peak (1929).

Glacier remained for Chris his favorite district. His knowledge of the peaks and familiarity with the routes there was complete. Every cliff and summit held memories for him. There he climbed with the McIntyres, Dr. Eggers and other members of the little coterie who called themselves the “Sir Donald Club.” The N. W. arête of Mt. Sir Donald was probably his favorite ascent.

After the Glacier House was torn down, Chris took parties back to Glacier. There they were comfortably if informally lodged at the home of the fire-warden, Bill Hartley, now deceased. Chris always regretted that the Hermit Hut had fallen into disrepair and that the Glacier Circle Hut was being used so seldom.

In the Lake Louise district he discovered the chimney on Popes Peak now used as the usual route; made new routes on Glacier Peak, Mt. Allen, Mt. Deltaform and Mt. Neptuak; the second traverse of Mt. Victoria (S. to N.), and the first ascent of Mt. Weed. During these years he made numerous trips far afield with one of the writers and climbed in most districts of the Rockies from Mt. Assiniboine to Jasper and Berg Lake. The high spots were perhaps the ascents of the Goodsirs, the first ascent of Mt. Trident, in the northern Selkirks, through the alders and devil’s club of British Columbia forests, and the first complete ascent of Mt. Bryce from Rice Brook. In 1936 with W. N. Hogg, Chris made a successful expedition to Bush Mtn.; the view of that peak always gave him great joy. In 1939 with Miss Gardiner and Edward Feuz, Jr., he climbed Mt. Robson.

It was an interesting experience to climb with Chris either with a party or alone. He picked his routes to suit the capacities of his party and never allowed his good humor to be disturbed, even by the weariest and grouchiest of climbers. He had the faculty of keeping up a continual entertainment of humorous comment or comical antics which would bring in a tired party full of enthusiasm and in complete good humor. To see him give an imitation of a mountain goat coming down a mountain was alone worth all the effort of the climb.

Chris had a great fondness for mountain goats. “They are my friends,” he used to say, and where they went he found his route. On Mt. Eon he followed a goat trail for hours back to camp at Marvel Pass. Long and tortuous as it seemed at the time, there proved to be no better route and it saved us many more weary hours. On the last climb he made with one of the writers, Mt. Burgess from Emerald Lake, goats fled before our advance. We followed them up the cliffs to the summit ridge.

It was a particular pleasure and education to climb with him alone, or with a well-matched companion, and discuss with him his reasons for choosing a particular plan of ascent or descent. He would often take one up a particularly interesting bit and, having overcome it, point to an adjacent route and say “See, we could have come up that way, that would have been easy—but not so much fun.” One had the satisfaction of feeling that, so far as the mountain and time permitted, he had been given the opportunity of doing all that his knowledge of climbing technique qualified him to undertake. It was a pleasure to see him climb a difficult cliff, for he moved with an ease and certainty that was a delight to watch, often accompanying the accomplishment of even the most difficult bit with humorous comment on the character of the holds or the nature of the rock. His greatest skill as a mountaineer lay in his genius for route finding. He never hesitated and he never missed.

In the presence of a gathering he was quiet and retiring, but around the fire after a day’s trip with one or two he was both an entertaining and an interesting companion, commenting with evident understanding on the news of the period and, on one occasion, asking intelligent questions (all too unintelligently answered) regarding the Einstein theory as set forth in a recent newspaper article. “It is an era of conferences,” he used to say in discussing world events in which he took great interest and of which he read a great deal.

He never quite understood the democratic ways of Americans. The first to resent any inference of inferiority or slight, he nevertheless found it hard to accept the level of equality of a democratic society. He would say, “I’m Christian Häsler ; not Mister Häsler.”

Those who have known and climbed with Chris at his best, know that he was hard to beat. He loved life and people and best of all he loved mountains. He always had a certain nostalgia for Switzerland although he knew he could never return there to live. But he never was quite reconciled to the loneliness of the Canadian Rockies. Once at Abbot Pass Hut this loneliness appalled him. It was a perfect night, a full moon and every prospect for fine weather to climb tomorrow. But the hut was empty and his yodel- ing echoed unheard among the peaks. In his mind’s eye he saw the crowded huts of Switzerland, the gay groups of climbers, heard the songs and the tales of fellow guides. It was too bad, so much to enjoy, so few to enjoy it.

He was a devoted husband and father. His wife was a cousin of the Feuz brothers, and their house was filled with her handiwork. Chris always resented being separated from his family for so many months of the year, at Lake Louise in the summer to climb, and in winter to take care of the Château and shovel snow from the roofs of the bungalow camps. He never let his sons climb, so that they could never be guides and live away from home as he lived.

In the last few years Christian was pursued by misfortune. A broken ankle which laid him up for some time was followed by the serious illness of his wife. Next his younger son was killed by an explosion, and this heavy blow was followed on September 19th of last year by the attack by a grizzly bear which nearly ended his life and that of his companion; the death of his wife occurred in March of this year while he was still in the hospital under treatment for his injuries.

Although broken in spirit and physique by this series of calamities he was determined to get back to the mountains. They alone, he wrote, could act as comforters. He climbed with parties at the Glacier Lake Camp of the Alpine Club of Canada in July, although out of the hospital less than three months, but weakened to such an extent that he was compelled to leave during the second week.

The exact cause of his death will never be known. He was engaged in building himself a small house because, after his wife’s death, he felt he could no longer occupy their old home. While working on the roof he fell and was dead when help arrived. Apparently the terrific mauling inflicted by the grizzly had undermined even his rugged constitution and precipitated a heart attack.

It is possible that, even had he lived, he would have been unable to continue climbing.

Our sorrow that we can never again be with him in the mountains is tempered by the thought that probably it is as he would have wished. “If I cannot climb,” he said, “I don’t want to live. It would be better if I had died up there in the mountains.” We have lost one who was more than merely a guide, and the memories of his climbs will be ever associated with his warm and friendly personality.

L. G.

F. N. W.