But most dangerous were the chasms filled with snow over which we had to pass; the snow had been softened by the warmth of the season, so that we sank into it nearly every step, or, what was worse, slipped back more than we had advanced.

I scarcely think there can be another mountain whose ascent offers so many difficulties.
After a labour of about three hours and a half we neared the summit of the mountain, where we were obliged to leave our horses.

I should, indeed, have preferred to do so long before, as I was apprehensive of the poor animals falling as they climbed over these precipices--one might almost call them rolling mountains--but my guide would not permit it.
Sometimes we came to spots where they were useful, and then he maintained that I must ride as far as possible to reserve my strength for the remaining difficulties.

And he was right; I scarcely believe I should have been able to go through it on foot, for when I thought we were near the top, hills of lava again rose between us, and we seemed farther from our journey's end than before.
My guide told me that he had never taken any one so far on horseback, and I can believe it.

Walking was bad enough--riding was fearful.
At every fresh declivity new scenes of deserted, melancholy districts were revealed to us; every thing was cold and dead, every where there was black burnt lava.