All along my course thus far, excepting when down in the canons, the
landscapes were mostly open to me, and expansive, at least on one side.
On the left were the purple plains of Mono, reposing dreamily and warm;
on the right, the near peaks springing keenly into the thin sky with
more and more impressive sublimity. But these larger views were at
length lost. Rugged spurs, and moraines, and huge, projecting buttresses
began to shut me in. Every feature became more rigidly alpine, without,
however, producing any chilling effect; for going to the mountains is
like going home. We always find that the strangest objects in these
fountain wilds are in some degree familiar, and we look upon them with a
vague sense of having seen them before.
On the southern shore of a frozen lake, I encountered an extensive field
of hard, granular snow, up which I scampered in fine tone, intending to
follow it to its head, and cross the rocky spur against which it leans,
hoping thus to come direct upon the base of the main Ritter peak. The
surface was pitted with oval hollows, made by stones and drifted
pine-needles that had melted themselves into the mass by the radiation
of absorbed sun-heat.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81