WIND-RAPIDS ON THE HEIGHTS 83 



ponderously heavy and prolonged were the booms 

 of the wind. These often mingled with terrific, 

 crashing explosions which even the elastic air did 

 not always soften. There were long, ripping sounds, 

 as the diverted wind rolled up a slope or tore 

 around a corner. Then, strange were the seconds 

 of ominous, almost breathless, calm. 



After reading the meter, I went higher. Carried 

 away with the wild, elemental eloquence of the 

 storm, I concluded to get effects from the high 

 ledges and finally from the summit of Long's Peak. 



Every step advanced, each new height somehow 

 gained, was a fight. It took all my endurance and 

 it stimulated utmost alertness. I simply crawled 

 forward and upward. And I wrestled with an 

 invisible, unresting contestant who occasionally 

 tried to hurl me over a ledge or smash my bones 

 against the rocks. 



For a mile I made my way across a moraine with 

 the wind beating against my right side. The 

 scattered boulders made travelling difficult; many 

 were large and had to be climbed over. Such activi- 

 ties often gave the wind the eagerly used opportun- 

 ity of shooting me with icy pellets and of knocking 

 me off my feet. 



At the altitude of thirteen thousand feet, the 

 trail was through a rocky opening called Keyhole. 

 Here the wind rushed in an invisible but irresisti- 

 ble flood. To go against it was sheer madness, 

 so I climbed down and around Keyhole. While 



