The Forms of Water in Clouds and Rivers, Ice and GlaciersTyndall, John
Science
The Forms of Water in Clouds and Rivers, Ice and Glaciers
Tyndall, John
Clouds; Glaciers; Ice; Rivers; Water
223. But in winter the thaw ceases; the quantity of water reaching
the bed of the glacier is diminished or entirely cut off. The
ice also, to a certain depth at least, is frozen hard. These
considerations would justify the opinion that in winter the glacier,
if it moves at all, must move more slowly than in summer. At all
events, the summer measurements give no clue to the winter motion.
224. This point merits examination. I will not, however, ask you to
visit the Alps in mid-winter; but, if you allow me, I will be your
deputy to the mountains, and report to you faithfully the aspect of
the region and the behaviour of the ice.
§ 32. _Winter on the Mer de Glace._
225. The winter chosen is an inclement one. There is snow in London,
snow in Paris, snow in Geneva; snow near Chamouni so deep that the
road fences are entirely effaced. On Christmas night--nearly at
mid-night--1859, your deputy reaches Chamouni.
226. The snow fell heavily on December 26; but on the 27th, during a
lull in the storm, we turn out. There are with me four good guides
and a porter. They tie planks to their feet to prevent them from
sinking in the snow; I neglect this precaution and sink often to the
waist. Four or five times during our ascent the slope cracks with an
explosive sound, and the snow threatens to come down in avalanches.[D]
[D] Four years later, viz. in the spring of 1863, a mighty climber
and noble guide and companion of mine, named Johann Joseph Bennen,
was lost, through the cracking and subsequent slipping of snow on
such a slope.
The freshly-fallen snow was in that particular condition which causes
its granules to adhere, and hence every flake falling on the trees
had been retained there. The laden pines presented beautiful and
often fantastic forms.
227. After five hours and a half of arduous work the Montanvert was
attained. We unlocked the forsaken auberge, round which the snow
was reared in buttresses. I have already spoken of the complex play
of crystallising forces. The frost figures on the window-panes of
the auberge were wonderful: mimic shrubs and ferns wrought by the
building power while hampered by the adhesion between the glass and
the film in which it worked. The appearance of the glacier was very
impressive; all sounds were stilled. The cascades which in summer
fill the air with their music were silent, hanging from the ledges
of the rocks in fluted columns of ice. The surface of the glacier
was obviously higher than it had been in summer; suggesting the
thought that while the winter cold maintained the lower end of the
glacier jammed between its boundaries, the upper portions still moved
downwards and thickened the ice. The peak of the Aiguille du Dru
shook out a cloud-banner, the origin and nature of which have been
already explained (84). (See _Frontispiece_.)
[Illustration: SNOW-LADEN PINE-TREE.]
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