This glacier, which we had noticed during the stay
at Peggotty Camp, seemed to be calving almost continuously.
I had hoped to get a view of the country ahead of us from the top of
the slope, but as the surface became more level beneath our feet, a
thick fog drifted down. The moon became obscured and produced a
diffused light that was more trying than darkness, since it illuminated
the fog without guiding our steps. We roped ourselves together as a
precaution against holes, crevasses, and precipices, and I broke trail
through the soft snow. With almost the full length of the rope between
myself and the last man we were able to steer an approximately straight
course, since, if I veered to the right or the left when marching into
the blank wall of the fog, the last man on the rope could shout a
direction. So, like a ship with its "port," "starboard," "steady," we
tramped through the fog for the next two hours.
Then, as daylight came, the fog thinned and lifted, and from an
elevation of about 3000 ft. we looked down on what seemed to be a huge
frozen lake with its farther shores still obscured by the fog. We
halted there to eat a bit of biscuit while we discussed whether we
would go down and cross the flat surface of the lake, or keep on the
ridge we had already reached. I decided to go down, since the lake lay
on our course.
Pages:
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334