So
rare and splendid a phenomenon, of course, overbore all other
considerations, and I at once let the ice-cone go, and began to force my
way out of the valley to some dome or ridge sufficiently lofty to
command a general view of the main summits, feeling assured that I
should find them bannered still more gloriously; nor was I in the least
disappointed. Indian Canon, through which I climbed, was choked with
snow that had been shot down in avalanches from the high cliffs on
either side, rendering the ascent difficult; but inspired by the roaring
storm, the tedious wallowing brought no fatigue, and in four hours I
gained the top of a ridge above the valley, 8000 feet high. And there in
bold relief, like a clear painting, appeared a most imposing scene.
Innumerable peaks, black and sharp, rose grandly into the dark blue sky,
their bases set in solid white, their sides streaked and splashed with
snow, like ocean rocks with foam; and from every summit, all free and
unconfused, was streaming a beautiful silky silvery banner, from half a
mile to a mile in length, slender at the point of attachment, then
widening gradually as it extended from the peak until it was about 1000
or 1500 feet in breadth, as near as I could estimate.
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