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Updated: June 19, 2025
For the most part in these early hours I spend the time considering my own folly. It is perhaps a good mental exercise. It was even now utterly dark. The huge bulwark of the Breithorn rose opposite to us like a great shadow. Monte Rosa was very faintly lighted by the approach of dawn. The mighty pyramid of the solitary Matterhorn had yet no touch of red fire upon it.
Then the Breithorn and the Dent Blanche caught the radiant glow; but "the intervening mass of Monte Rosa made it necessary for us to climb many long hours before we could hope to see the sun himself, yet the whole air soon grew warmer after the splendid birth of the day."
He did so by pointing with his stick to what he took to be the highest summit of the range, and saying: "I suppose that's the Jungfrau." The stranger moved nearer him. "No, you're too far to the west. That's the Breithorn. There's the Jungfrau" he, too, pointed with his stick "sentineled by the Eiger and the Mönch."
Meanwhile, what of the weather? Uncertainty. Avalanches thundered from the Breithorn and Lyskamm, telling of a penetrative moisture in the air. The Matterhorn refused to take in its signal flags of storm. Still the sun shone clear. We had put in six of the eight hours' work of ascent when snow began to fall. Soon it was too thick to see far.
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