Chapters 10
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1 01 - The Climber's Dream - Read by AST 3:50
I made an ascent of the Eiger last year, which has near been surpassed. It was dangerous, long and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at 12 from the Fålberg, ascended the Mönch by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Elmer and Perron cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me they followed as Herron, George, Stephen and Freshfield and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble, there halted of course for the view, when clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully around us, the thunder ferociously growled. The hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly hold.
We turned to descend to the side deck. Eyes blinded, east deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry forgetting to add a new stone to the man. Palinoros himself, that is Amur, no longer could make out the track. It was followed no doubt to go onward. It was madness, of course, to go back. The snow slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared, the thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left, kazams, yawning, and deep. Glazed rocks and snow slopes were before us, at an angle alarmingly steep.
We all turned and looked back at Almer, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of hope. He came to the front and thence forward, in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow slopes, glissading. While he stood bolt upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss. Chauce is a pleasant sensation, which all have written or read. But to taste it in perfect perfection, you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurra! With a wild scream of triumph. Over snow, over boulders we fly. Our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound over the brashru and uninjured. We shoot over the precipice's shear. Hurrah for the modern glissader. Hurrah for the wild mountaineer. But Allah, what is this? What a shaking? What a yaw, what a bump, what a thump. Out of bed in intense consternation, I bond with a hop, skip and jump, for I hear the sweet voice of a person of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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2 02 - The Climber's Dream - Read by CCS 4:32
I made an ascent of the Eiger last year, which has never been surpassed. It was dangerous, long and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at 12 from the Foulberg, ascended the monk by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain. As the pig caught the dawn of the day. In front of me Alma and Perrin cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed as Herrin, George, Stephen and Freshfield and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble. There hoarded, of course, for the view. When clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue, the lightning shone playfully round us, the thunder ferociously growled, the hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the shy deck, eyes blinded, Ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry forgetting to add a new stone to the man.
Pelinorys himself, that is, armor, no longer could make out the track. T'was folly, no doubt, to go onward. T'was madness, of course, to go back. The snow slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared. The thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight and revealed an astonishing prospect which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left chasms yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow slopes were before us at an angle alarmingly steep. We all turned and looked back at Ama, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope.
He came to the front, and thenceforward, in wonderful fashion, he led. Over rocks, over snow slopes, glissading, while he stood bolt upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss. To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read, but to taste it In perfect perfection, you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah with a wild scream of triumph over snow over boulders we fly, our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky. We bound o'er the Bergschrund uninjured, we shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissader, hurrah for the wild mountaineer.
But alas, what is this? What a shaking! What a jar! What a bump! What a thump! Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump, for I hear the sweet voice of a person, of whom I, with justice, am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not girdle so loud.
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3 03 - The Climber's Dream - Read by DL 3:42
I made an ascent of the Eiger last year, which has ne'er been surpassed. T'was dangerous, long, and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Falberg, ascended the Monk on the way, and were well at the base of our mountain. As the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Aylmer and Perron cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed as Herron, George, Stephen, and Freshfield, and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble. There halted, of course, for the view, when clouds, sailing fast from the southward, bailed over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully around us. The thunder ferociously growled. The hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the shade deck. Our eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry, forgetting to add a new stone to the man. Polynerus himself, that is, Elmer, no longer could make out the track. "'Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. "'Twas madness, of course, to go back.' The snow-slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared, the thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed a thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect, which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left chasms yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow-slopes were before us, at an angle alarmingly steep.
We all turned and looked back at Aylmer, who then was the last on the rope. His face, for a moment, was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front, and thence forward, in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow-slopes glissading, while he stood, bolt upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment this is! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss. To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read. But to taste it in perfect perfection, you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah! With a wild scream of triumph, over snow, over boulders we fly. Our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bounded o'er the breschrunt, uninjured. We shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissader. Hurrah for the wild mountaineer. But, alas! What is this? What a shaking! What a jar! What a bump! What a thump! Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip. and jump, for I hear the sweet voice of a person of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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4 04 - The Climber's Dream - Read by FS 4:01
I made an ascent of the Eiger last year, which has ne'er been surpassed. Twas dangerous, long, and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Fulberg, ascended the Monk by the way, And we're well at the base of our mountain as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Elmer and Perrin cut steps each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed as Aaron, George, Stephen, and Freshfield, and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble, there halted, of course, for the view, when clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully round us, the thunder ferociously growled, the hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the Shidak. Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry, forgetting to add a new stone to the man. Pelernus himself, that is, Almer, no longer could make out the track. "'Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. "'Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared, the thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect. Which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left chasms yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow slopes were before us at an angle alarmingly steep.
We all turned and looked back at Elmer, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front, and thence forward in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow-slopes glissading, while he stood, bolt upright on his head. We followed, in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss. To glissade is a pleasant sensation. Of which all have written or read, but to taste it in perfect perfection, you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah with a wild scream of triumph! Over snow, over boulders, we fly. Our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound o'er the bergschrund uninjured. We shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissader! Hurrah for the wild mountaineer! But, alas, what is this? What a shaking! What a jar! What a bump! What a thump! Out of bed! In intense consternation I bound with a hop, skip, and jump, for I hear the sweet voice of a person. Of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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5 05 - The Climber's Dream - Read by JCM 3:33
I made an ascent of the Eiger last year, which has ne'er been surpassed. T'was dangerous, long and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Fallberg, ascended the Monche by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Alma and Perron cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed, as Herron, George, Stephen, and Freshfield, and took it. We got to the top, without trouble. There halted, of course, for the view, when clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully round us. The thunder ferociously growled. The hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the shy-deck. Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and fury forgetting to add a new stone to the man. Palinurus himself, that is, Olmer, no longer could make out the track. "'Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. "'Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow-slope grew steeper and steeper." The lightning more vividly flared. The thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect, which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful. On the left, chasms yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow slopes were before us.
At an angle alarmingly steep, we all turned and looked back at Olmer, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front, and thenceforward in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow-slopes, glissading, while he stood, bolt upright, on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss! To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read, but to taste it in perfect perfection you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah! With a wild scream of triumph, over snow, over boulders we fly, our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound o'er the burg shrummed uninjured, we shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissader! Hurrah for the wild mountaineer! But alas! What is this? What a shaking! What a jar! What a bump! What a thump! Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump, for I hear the sweet voice of a person, of whom I with justice am proud. My dear! When you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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6 06 - The Climber's Dream - Read by JN 3:51
I made an ascent of the Eiger, last year, which has never been so past. It was dangerous, long, and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at 12 from the Foulberg, ascended the monk by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain, As the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me Alma and Perrin, cut steps each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed as Herren, George, Stephan, and Freshfield, and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble. There halted, of course, for the few, when clouds sailing fast from the southward wailed over the vault of Dog Blue. The lightning shone playfully around us. The thunder ferociously growled. The hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the schiedeck, eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry, forgetting, to add a new stone to the man. Palinaros himself, that is Alma, no longer could make out the track. Twas folly no doubt to go onward. Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared, the thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last the strong gust for a moment dispersed a thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect, which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, On the left, chasmed yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow-slopes were before us, at an angle alarmingly steep.
We all turned and looked back at Alma, who, then, was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front and thenceforward, in wonderful fashion he led. Over rocks, over snow slopes, glissading, while he stood, bolt upright, on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss. To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read. But to taste it in perfect perfection, you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah! with a wild scream of triumph. Over snow, over boulders, we fly. Our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound over the berkschrund uninjured. We shoot over the precipice sheer. Hurrah! for the mordauntly saider. Hurrah! for the wild mountaineer. But alas, what is this? What is shaking? What a char, what a bump, what a thump! Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump. For I hear the sweet voice of a person, of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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7 07 - The Climber's Dream - Read by KJH 3:26
I made an ascent of the Eiger last year, which has ne'er been surpassed. Twas dangerous, long, and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Falberg, ascended the Monk by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain, as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Almer and Perrin cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed as Heron, George, Stephen, and Freshfield, and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble, there halted, of course, for the view, when clouds, sailing fast from the southward, veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully round us, the thunder ferociously growled, the hail beat upon us in bullets.
And the wind everlastingly howled. We turned to descend to the she-deck. Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran. In our panic and hurry, forgetting to add a new stone to the man. Palinurus himself, that is Ulmer, no longer could make out the track. Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow slope grew steeper and steeper. The lightning more vividly flared. The thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect, which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left chasms yawning and deep.
Glazed rocks and snow slopes were before us at an angle alarmingly steep. We all turned and looked back at Ulmer, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front, and thenceforward, in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow-slopes, glissading, where he stood, bolt upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion, Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss! To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read. But to taste it in perfect perfection? You should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah! With a wild scream of triumph! Over snow, over boulders we fly, our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound over the bergsrund uninjured, we shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissader, hurrah for the wild mountaineer. But alas, what is this? What a shaking? What a jar, what a bump, what a thump? Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump. For I hear the sweet voice of a person, of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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8 08 - The Climber's Dream - Read by LG 3:45
I made an ascent of the Iger last year, which has ne'er been surpassed. Twas dangerous, long, and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Falberg, ascended the Monk by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Almer and Perron cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed, as Herron, George, Stephen, and Freshfield and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble. There halted, of course, for the view, when clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully round us. The thunder ferociously growled. The hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the shy deck. Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry, forgetting to add a new stone to the man. Polinurus himself, that is, Almer, no longer could make out the track. Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared, the thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left chasms yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow-slopes were before us, at an angle alarmingly steep.
We all turned and looked back at Almer, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front and thenceforward, in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow-slopes, glissading. while he stood bolt upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss! To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read. But to taste it in perfect perfection you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah! With a wild scream of triumph, Over snow, over boulders, we fly. Our heads firmly pressed to the surface, Our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound o'er the berkshwood uninjured, We shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah! for the modern glissader, Hurrah! for the wild mountaineer. But alas, what is this? What a shaking! What a jar! What a bump! What a thump! Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump. For I hear the sweet voice of a person of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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9 09 - The Climber's Dream - Read by LLW 4:16
I made an ascent of the eiger last year which has ne'er been surpassed. Twas dangerous, long, and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Falberg. Ascended the Meunck by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me Alma and Perrin cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed, as Herrin, George, Stephen, and Freshfield and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble. There halted, of course, for the view. When clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully round us, the thunder ferociously growled, the hail beat upon us in bullets, and the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the Scheidach. Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry forgetting. To add a new stone to the man. Palinurus himself, that is, Alma, no longer could make out the track. Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow-slope grew steeper and steeper. The lightning more vividly flared, the thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect, which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful. On the left chasms, yawning and deep, glazed rocks and snow slopes were before us at an angle alarmingly steep.
We all turned and looked back at Almer, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front, and thenceforward, in wonderful fashion he led, over rocks, over snow-slopes, glissading, while he stood bolt upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss! To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written, or read, but to taste it in perfect perfection you should learn to glissade on your head. Hurrah! with the wild scream of triumph, over snow, over boulders we fly, our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound o'er the beck shunt uninjured, We shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissader! Hurrah for the wild mountaineer! But alas! what is this? What a shaking! what a jaw! what a bump! what a thump! Out of bed in intense consternation I bound with a hop, skip, and jump. For I hear the sweet voice of a person, of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.
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10 10 - The Climber's Dream - Read by RC 3:37
I made an ascent of the Iger, last year, which has ne'er been surpassed. Twas dangerous long and laborious, but almost incredibly fast. We started at twelve from the Foulberg, ascended the Monch by the way, and were well at the base of our mountain as the peak caught the dawn of the day. In front of me, Almor and Perron cut steps, each as big as a bucket, while behind me there followed is Heron, George Stephen, and Freshfield, and Tuckett. We got to the top without trouble. There halted, of course, for the view. When clouds sailing fast from the southward veiled over the vault of dark blue. The lightning shone playfully around us, the thunder ferociously growled, the hail beat upon us in bullets, And the wind everlastingly howled.
We turned to descend to the shy deck. Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, in our panic and hurry forgetting, to add a new stone to the man. Palinurus himself, that is, Almer, no longer could make out the track. Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward. Twas madness, of course, to go back. The snow-slope grew steeper and steeper, the lightning more vividly flared. The thunder rolled deeper and deeper, and the wind more offensively blared. But at last a strong gust for a moment dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, and revealed an astonishing prospect, which filled not our hearts with delight. On our right was a precipice awful, on the left chasms yawning and deep. Glazed rocks and snow-sloops were before us.
At an angle alarmingly steep. We all turned and looked back at Almor, who then was the last on the rope. His face for a moment was clouded, then beamed with the dawn of a hope. He came to the front, and thenceforward, in wonderful fashion he laid, over rocks, over snow-slopes, glissading, while he stood, balled upright on his head. We followed in similar fashion. Hurrah! What a moment is this! What a moment of exquisite transport, a realization of bliss! To glissade is a pleasant sensation, of which all have written or read. But to taste it in perfect perfection, you should learn to glissade on your head! Hurrah! With a wild scream of triumph! Over snow, over boulders, we fly, our heads firmly pressed to the surface, our heels pointing up to the sky.
We bound o'er the bergschrund uninjured, we shoot o'er a precipice sheer. Hurrah for the modern glissider, hurrah for the wild mountaineer. But alas, what is this? What a shaking! What a jar! What a bump! What a thump! Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump, for I hear the sweet voice of a person, of whom I with justice am proud. My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not yodel so loud.