After Descending About 2,000 Feet To Avoid
The Ice, We Got Into A Deep Ravine With Inaccessible Sides,
Partly Filled With Ice And Snow And Partly With Large And Small
Fragments Of Rock, Which Were Constantly Giving Away, Rendering
The Footing Very Insecure.
That part to me was two hours of
painful and unwilling submission to the inevitable; of trembling,
slipping, straining, of smooth ice appearing when it was least
expected, and of weak entreaties to be left behind while the
others went on.
"Jim" always said that there was no danger, that
there was only a short bad bit ahead, and that I should go up
even if he carried me!
Slipping, faltering, gasping from the exhausting toil in the
rarefied air, with throbbing hearts and panting lungs, we reached
the top of the gorge and squeezed ourselves between two gigantic
fragments of rock by a passage called the "Dog's Lift," when I
climbed on the shoulders of one man and then was hauled up. This
introduced us by an abrupt turn round the south-west angle of the
Peak to a narrow shelf of considerable length, rugged, uneven,
and so overhung by the cliff in some places that it is necessary
to crouch to pass at all. Above, the Peak looks nearly vertical
for 400 feet; and below, the most tremendous precipice I have
ever seen descends in one unbroken fall. This is usually
considered the most dangerous part of the ascent, but it does not
seem so to me, for such foothold as there is is secure, and one
fancies that it is possible to hold on with the hands.
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