They are intersected at every turn with mighty glaciers and
ice-falls and eternally ice-filled valleys that defy description. So
clear was everything that every rock seemed to stand out, and the effect
of the sun as he came round (between us and the mountains) was to make
the scene still more beautiful."[212]
Altogether we marched eleven miles this day, and camped right in front of
the Gateway, which we reckoned to be some thirteen miles away. We saw no
crevasses but crossed ten or twelve very large undulations, and estimated
that the dips between them were twelve to fifteen feet. Mount Hope was
bigger than we expected, and beyond it, stretching out into the Barrier
as far as we could see, was a great white line of jagged edges, the chaos
of pressure which this vast glacier makes as it flows into the
comparatively stationary ice of the Barrier.
My own pony Michael was shot after we came into camp. He was as
attractive a little beast as we had. His light weight helped him on soft
surfaces, but his small hoofs let him in farther than most and I notice
in Scott's diary that on November 19 the ponies were sinking half-way to
the hock, and Michael once or twice almost to the hock itself. A highly
strung, spirited animal, his off days took the form of fidgets, during
which he would be constantly trying to stop and eat snow, and then rush
forward to catch up the other ponies.
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