My Hecla guide, as I shall call him to distinguish him from my other
guide, advised me to start at two o'clock in the morning, to which I
assented, well knowing, however, that we should not have mounted our
horses before five o'clock.
As I had anticipated, so it happened. At half-past five we were
quite prepared and ready for departure. Besides bread and cheese, a
bottle of water for myself, and one of brandy for my guides, we were
also provided with long sticks, tipped with iron points to sound the
depth of the snow, and to lean upon.
We were favoured by a fine warm sunny morning, and galloped briskly
over the fields and the adjoining plains of sand. My guide
considered the fine weather a very lucky omen, and told me that M.
Geimard, the before-mentioned French scholar, had been compelled to
wait three days for fine weather. Nine years had elapsed, and no
one had ascended the mountain since then. A prince of Denmark, who
travelled through Iceland some years before, had been there, but had
returned without effecting his purpose.
Our road at first led us through beautiful fields, and then over
plains of black sand enclosed on all sides by streams, hillocks, and
mountains of piled-up lava.
