Others say the same.

We are now on a level with the precipitous chain, or wall of lava, linking the two Breasts, and the view is glorious.

Behind us the glowing desert rolls away to the horizon, and before us lie mile upon mile of smooth hard snow almost level, but swelling gently upwards, out of the centre of which the nipple of the mountain, that appears to be some miles in circumference, rises about four thousand feet into the sky.

Not a living thing is to be seen.

God help us; I fear that our time has come." And now I will drop the journal, partly because it is not very interesting reading; also what follows requires telling rather more fully.
All that day--the 23rd May--we struggled slowly up the incline of snow, lying down from time to time to rest.