We found it necessary to change leaders again and again to distribute the arduous task of breaking steps in treacherous snow, just in the condition to let us through knee-deep as we put our weight on it, and we had to observe the greatest caution in crossing the crevasses, which were very deep and almost invariably half covered, or had edges fringed with cornices of soft snow, which at times had to be removed or trodden down to enable us to obtain a sound footing on the hard edges concealed beneath it.
The grade steepened, and we all felt the hard work, more especially Hamilton, who was sadly out of form, but stuck to his work like a Trojan, despite the cruel punishing his swags were giving him.
Now we had to make our way across a slope where an avalanche had recently come, and, worse than all, a thick mist accompanied by a keen wind began to come over our saddle.
Still we pushed slowly upwards, resting every few minutes. Thoughts of turning began to arise in our doubting minds. But this would not do with the col so nearly within our grasp, and the cry was almost one of ‘Death or victory!’ as we plodded laboriously upwards. Sometimes we could not see fifty feet ahead, and were compelled to steer by the compass, taking bearings of crevasses and ice blocks as we proceeded. Now and then the mist would lift for a moment and we could catch a glimpse of the longed-for saddle, and at last, when within a couple of hundred feet, Annan and I cast off on a separate rope, made a rush—as much of a rush as we could muster up—for the goal, hoping at least to get a glimpse of the other side ere the mist became too dense.
Hurrah! the saddle was conquered! But what lay beneath? Mist! Mist! Nothing but a thick impenetrable mist.
The other men arrived, and simultaneously, as if by some providential magic, the fog began to dissipate.
As it cleared we looked in vain for the familiar points at the head of the Tasman, which Annan and I knew full well. ‘Where’s Darwin? Where’s Elie de Beaumont? Where’s the Dome?’ No point in sight could be associated with the prominent features of the Tasman. As the low-lying portions of the mist disappeared, we observed that the glacier below flowed to the right! The Tasman should have flowed in the opposite direction.
The truth flashed upon us, and a great cry of surprise went up, ‘The Murchison! The Murchison!’ The very glacier whose middle parts we had left three hours previously.
Then, leaving Hamilton exhausted on the saddle, the rest of us struck up to some rocks 300 feet higher on the right, and once more a great shout arose as Annan and I saw coming into view the unmistakable double top of the great Hochstetter Dome, whose proud summit we had trodden the previous season.