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Home -> Jules Verne -> A Journey to the Center of the Earth -> Chapter 15

A Journey to the Center of the Earth - Chapter 15

1. Preface

2. Chapter 1

3. Chapter 2

4. Chapter 3

5. Chapter 4

6. Chapter 5

7. Chapter 6

8. Chapter 7

9. Chapter 8

10. Chapter 9

11. Chapter 10

12. Chapter 11

13. Chapter 12

14. Chapter 13

15. Chapter 14

16. Chapter 15

17. Chapter 16

18. Chapter 17

19. Chapter 18

20. Chapter 19

21. Chapter 20

22. Chapter 21

23. Chapter 22

24. Chapter 23

25. Chapter 24

26. Chapter 25

27. Chapter 26

28. Chapter 27

29. Chapter 28

30. Chapter 29

31. Chapter 30

32. Chapter 31

33. Chapter 32

34. Chapter 33

35. Chapter 34

36. Chapter 35

37. Chapter 36

38. Chapter 37

39. Chapter 38

40. Chapter 39

41. Chapter 40

42. Chapter 41

43. Chapter 42

44. Chapter 43

45. Chapter 44

46. Chapter 45



Snaefell is 5,000 feet high. Its double cone forms the limit of a
trachytic belt which stands out distinctly in the mountain system of
the island. From our starting point we could see the two peaks boldly
projected against the dark grey sky; I could see an enormous cap of
snow coming low down upon the giant's brow.

We walked in single file, headed by the hunter, who ascended by
narrow tracks, where two could not have gone abreast. There was
therefore no room for conversation.

After we had passed the basaltic wall of the fiord of Stapi we passed
over a vegetable fibrous peat bog, left from the ancient vegetation
of this peninsula. The vast quantity of this unworked fuel would be
sufficient to warm the whole population of Iceland for a century;
this vast turbary measured in certain ravines had in many places a
depth of seventy feet, and presented layers of carbonized remains of
vegetation alternating with thinner layers of tufaceous pumice.

As a true nephew of the Professor Liedenbrock, and in spite of my
dismal prospects, I could not help observing with interest the
mineralogical curiosities which lay about me as in a vast museum, and
I constructed for myself a complete geological account of Iceland.

This most curious island has evidently been projected from the bottom
of the sea at a comparatively recent date. Possibly, it may still be
subject to gradual elevation. If this is the case, its origin may
well be attributed to subterranean fires. Therefore, in this case,
the theory of Sir Humphry Davy, Saknussemm's document, and my uncle's
theories would all go off in smoke. This hypothesis led me to examine
with more attention the appearance of the surface, and I soon arrived
at a conclusion as to the nature of the forces which presided at its

Iceland, which is entirely devoid of alluvial soil, is wholly
composed of volcanic tufa, that is to say, an agglomeration of porous
rocks and stones. Before the volcanoes broke out it consisted of trap
rocks slowly upraised to the level of the sea by the action of
central forces. The internal fires had not yet forced their way

But at a later period a wide chasm formed diagonally from south-west
to north-east, through which was gradually forced out the trachyte
which was to form a mountain chain. No violence accompanied this
change; the matter thrown out was in vast quantities, and the liquid
material oozing out from the abysses of the earth slowly spread in
extensive plains or in hillocky masses. To this period belong the
felspar, syenites, and porphyries.

But with the help of this outflow the thickness of the crust of the
island increased materially, and therefore also its powers of
resistance. It may easily be conceived what vast quantities of
elastic gases, what masses of molten matter accumulated beneath its
solid surface whilst no exit was practicable after the cooling of the
trachytic crust. Therefore a time would come when the elastic and
explosive forces of the imprisoned gases would upheave this ponderous
cover and drive out for themselves openings through tall chimneys.
Hence then the volcano would distend and lift up the crust, and then
burst through a crater suddenly formed at the summit or thinnest part
of the volcano.

To the eruption succeeded other volcanic phenomena. Through the
outlets now made first escaped the ejected basalt of which the plain
we had just left presented such marvellous specimens. We were moving
over grey rocks of dense and massive formation, which in cooling had
formed into hexagonal prisms. Everywhere around us we saw truncated
cones, formerly so many fiery mouths.

After the exhaustion of the basalt, the volcano, the power of which
grew by the extinction of the lesser craters, supplied an egress to
lava, ashes, and scoriae, of which I could see lengthened screes
streaming down the sides of the mountain like flowing hair.

Such was the succession of phenomena which produced Iceland, all
arising from the action of internal fire; and to suppose that the
mass within did not still exist in a state of liquid incandescence
was absurd; and nothing could surpass the absurdity of fancying that
it was possible to reach the earth's centre.

So I felt a little comforted as we advanced to the assault of Snaefell.

The way was growing more and more arduous, the ascent steeper and
steeper; the loose fragments of rock trembled beneath us, and the
utmost care was needed to avoid dangerous falls.

Hans went on as quietly as if he were on level ground; sometimes he
disappeared altogether behind the huge blocks, then a shrill whistle
would direct us on our way to him. Sometimes he would halt, pick up a
few bits of stone, build them up into a recognisable form, and thus
made landmarks to guide us in our way back. A very wise precaution in
itself, but, as things turned out, quite useless.

Three hours' fatiguing march had only brought us to the base of the
mountain. There Hans bid us come to a halt, and a hasty breakfast was
served out. My uncle swallowed two mouthfuls at a time to get on
faster. But, whether he liked it or not, this was a rest as well as a
breakfast hour and he had to wait till it pleased our guide to move
on, which came to pass in an hour. The three Icelanders, just as
taciturn as their comrade the hunted, never spoke, and ate their
breakfasts in silence.

We were now beginning to scale the steep sides of Snaefell. Its snowy
summit, by an optical illusion not unfrequent in mountains, seemed
close to us, and yet how many weary hours it took to reach it! The
stones, adhering by no soil or fibrous roots of vegetation, rolled
away from under our feet, and rushed down the precipice below with
the swiftness of an avalanche.

At some places the flanks of the mountain formed an angle with the
horizon of at least 36 degrees; it was impossible to climb them, and
these stony cliffs had to be tacked round, not without great
difficulty. Then we helped each other with our sticks.

I must admit that my uncle kept as close to me as he could; he never
lost sight of me, and in many straits his arm furnished me with a
powerful support. He himself seemed to possess an instinct for
equilibrium, for he never stumbled. The Icelanders, though burdened
with our loads, climbed with the agility of mountaineers.

To judge by the distant appearance of the summit of Snaefell, it would
have seemed too steep to ascend on our side. Fortunately, after an
hour of fatigue and athletic exercises, in the midst of the vast
surface of snow presented by the hollow between the two peaks, a kind
of staircase appeared unexpectedly which greatly facilitated our
ascent. It was formed by one of those torrents of stones flung up by
the eruptions, called 'sting' by the Icelanders. If this torrent had
not been arrested in its fall by the formation of the sides of the
mountain, it would have gone on to the sea and formed more islands.

Such as it was, it did us good service. The steepness increased, but
these stone steps allowed us to rise with facility, and even with
such rapidity that, having rested for a moment while my companions
continued their ascent, I perceived them already reduced by distance
to microscopic dimensions.

At seven we had ascended the two thousand steps of this grand
staircase, and we had attained a bulge in the mountain, a kind of bed
on which rested the cone proper of the crater.

Three thousand two hundred feet below us stretched the sea. We had
passed the limit of perpetual snow, which, on account of the moisture
of the climate, is at a greater elevation in Iceland than the high
latitude would give reason to suppose. The cold was excessively keen.
The wind was blowing violently. I was exhausted. The Professor saw
that my limbs were refusing to perform their office, and in spite of
his impatience he decided on stopping. He therefore spoke to the
hunter, who shook his head, saying:


"It seems we must go higher," said my uncle.

Then he asked Hans for his reason.

"MISTOUR," replied the guide.

"JA MISTOUR," said one of the Icelanders in a tone of alarm.

"What does that word mean?" I asked uneasily.

"Look!" said my uncle.

I looked down upon the plain. An immense column of pulverized pumice,
sand and dust was rising with a whirling circular motion like a
waterspout; the wind was lashing it on to that side of Snaefell where
we were holding on; this dense veil, hung across the sun, threw a
deep shadow over the mountain. If that huge revolving pillar sloped
down, it would involve us in its whirling eddies. This phenomenon,
which is not unfrequent when the wind blows from the glaciers, is
called in Icelandic 'mistour.'

"HASTIGT! HASTIGT!" cried our guide.

Without knowing Danish I understood at once that we must follow Hans
at the top of our speed. He began to circle round the cone of the
crater, but in a diagonal direction so as to facilitate our progress.
Presently the dust storm fell upon the mountain, which quivered under
the shock; the loose stones, caught with the irresistible blasts of
wind, flew about in a perfect hail as in an eruption. Happily we were
on the opposite side, and sheltered from all harm. But for the
precaution of our guide, our mangled bodies, torn and pounded into
fragments, would have been carried afar like the ruins hurled along
by some unknown meteor.

Yet Hans did not think it prudent to spend the night upon the sides
of the cone. We continued our zigzag climb. The fifteen hundred
remaining feet took us five hours to clear; the circuitous route, the
diagonal and the counter marches, must have measured at least three
leagues. I could stand it no longer. I was yielding to the effects of
hunger and cold. The rarefied air scarcely gave play to the action of
my lungs.

At last, at eleven in the sunlight night, the summit of Snaefell was
reached, and before going in for shelter into the crater I had time
to observe the midnight sun, at his lowest point, gilding with his
pale rays the island that slept at my feet.

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