We Shall Have To Wait For
Sunshine, And When Will It Come?"
The tempered area to which we had committed ourselves extended over
about one fourth of an acre; but it was only about an eighth of an
inch in thickness, for the scalding gas jets were shorn off close to
the ground by the oversweeping flood of frosty wind.
And how lavishly
the snow fell only mountaineers may know. The crisp crystal flowers
seemed to touch one another and fairly to thicken the tremendous blast
that carried them. This was the bloom-time, the summer of the cloud,
and never before have I seen even a mountain cloud flowering so
profusely.
When the bloom of the Shasta chaparral is falling, the ground is
sometimes covered for hundreds of square miles to a depth of half an
inch. But the bloom of this fertile snow cloud grew and matured and
fell to a depth of two feet in a few hours. Some crystals landed with
their rays almost perfect, but most of them were worn and broken by
striking against one another, or by rolling on the ground. The touch
of these snow-flowers in calm weather is infinitely gentle - glinting,
swaying, settling silently in the dry mountain air, or massed in
flakes soft and downy. To lie out alone in the mountains of a still
night and be touched by the first of these small silent messengers
from the sky is a memorable experience, and the fineness of that touch
none will forget. But the storm-blast laden with crisp, sharp snow
seems to crush and bruise and stupefy with its multitude of stings,
and compels the bravest to turn and flee.
The snow fell without abatement until an hour or two after what seemed
to be the natural darkness of the night. Up to the time the storm
first broke on the summit its development was remarkably gentle.
There was a deliberate growth of clouds, a weaving of translucent
tissue above, then the roar of the wind and the thunder, and the
darkening flight of snow. Its subsidence was not less sudden. The
clouds broke and vanished, not a crystal was left in the sky, and the
stars shone out with pure and tranquil radiance.
During the storm we lay on our backs so as to present as little
surface as possible to the wind, and to let the drift pass over us.
The mealy snow sifted into the folds of our clothing and in many
places reached the skin. We were glad at first to see the snow
packing about us, hoping it would deaden the force of the wind, but it
soon froze into a stiff, crusty heap as the temperature fell, rather
augmenting our novel misery.
When the heat became unendurable, on some spot where steam was
escaping through the sludge, we tried to stop it with snow and mud, or
shifted a little at a time by shoving with our heels; for to stand in
blank exposure to the fearful wind in our frozen-and-broiled condition
seemed certain death. The acrid incrustations sublimed from the
escaping gases frequently gave way, opening new vents to scald us;
and, fearing that if at any time the wind should fall, carbonic acid,
which often formed a considerable portion of the gaseous exhalations
of volcanoes, might collect in sufficient quantities to cause sleep
and death, I warned Jerome against forgetting himself for a single
moment, even should his sufferings admit of such a thing.
Accordingly, when during the long, dreary watches of the night we
roused from a state of half-consciousness, we called each other by
name in a frightened, startled way, each fearing the other might be
benumbed or dead. The ordinary sensations of cold give but a faint
conception of that which comes on after hard climbing with want of
food and sleep in such exposure as this. Life is then seen to be a
fire, that now smoulders, now brightens, and may be easily quenched.
The weary hours wore away like dim half-forgotten years, so long and
eventful they seemed, though we did nothing but suffer. Still the
pain was not always of that bitter, intense kind that precludes
thought and takes away all capacity for enjoyment. A sort of dreamy
stupor came on at times in which we fancied we saw dry, resinous logs
suitable for campfires, just as after going days without food men
fancy they see bread.
Frozen, blistered, famished, benumbed, our bodies seemed lost to us at
times - all dead but the eyes. For the duller and fainter we became
the clearer was our vision, though only in momentary glimpses. Then,
after the sky cleared, we gazed at the stars, blessed immortals of
light, shining with marvelous brightness with long lance rays, near-looking and new-looking, as if never seen before. Again they would
look familiar and remind us of stargazing at home. Oftentimes
imagination coming into play would present charming pictures of the
warm zone below, mingled with others near and far. Then the bitter
wind and the drift would break the blissful vision and dreary pains
cover us like clouds. "Are you suffering much? Jerome would inquire
with pitiful faintness. "Yes," I would say, striving to keep my voice
brave, "frozen and burned; but never mind, Jerome, the night will wear
away at last, and tomorrow we go a-Maying, and what campfires we will
make, and what sunbaths we will take!"
The frost grew more and more intense, and we became icy and covered
over with a crust of frozen snow, as if we had lain cast away in the
drift all winter. In about thirteen hours - every hour like a year - day began to dawn, but it was long ere the summit's rocks were touched
by the sun. No clouds were visible from where we lay, yet the morning
was dull and blue, and bitterly frosty; and hour after hour passed by
while we eagerly watched the pale light stealing down the ridge to the
hollow where we lay.
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