Though bears and other beasts of prey frequent these wilds, Mr. Atkinson met with none; the chief danger was a fall in the midst of rocks and prostrate trees, which might have been attended with painful consequences. At last they emerged from the forest gloom, at the foot of a steep ascent overlaid with huge blocks of stones. As their horses slowly clambered up the rugged acclivity, the sound was heard of the roar of water, indicating a cataract close at hand. It proved to be the outcome of a small stream, which tumbled down a steep and rocky bed in a succession of shining falls. Crossing this stream, the riders pursued their upward course until at eight o’clock they reached the Katchkanar, after a tedious journey of eleven hours. The guide, a veteran hunter, proposed to halt for the night at the foot of some high rocks—a proposition readily accepted. All hands set to work, and soon a great fire was blazing, not only for the purpose of warmth, but as a protection against the clouds of mosquitoes which swarmed around, and threatened to murder sleep.
At three o’clock, Mr. Atkinson was up and about. The dawn was swiftly advancing over the interminable Siberian forest. Above the vast horizon stretched long lines of pale yellow clouds, which every minute became more luminous, until they seemed like so many waves of golden light rolling and breaking on the far celestial shore. As the sun gradually rose into the heavens, every mountain-top blazed with fire, like gigantic altars, and the pines were transformed into columns of gold. The adventurers were soon afoot, and, crossing a little grassy valley, began the real ascent.
It was a chaotic mass of loose huge rocks, with snow filling up many of the cavities; in other places they passed under colossal blocks, over which it would have been no easy task to climb. Further up they stretched across large patches of frozen snow, and reached the foot of the high crags of the Katchkanar; many of which stand out like huge crystals, not less than one hundred feet in height, and are composed of regular courses, with pure magnetic iron ore between their beds, varying from one inch to four inches thick. In some places cubes or crystals of iron project from the solid rock, three and four inches square; and in others the whole mass seems to be of iron, or some other mineral substance. Climbing one of the highest pinnacles, Mr. Atkinson enjoyed a glorious prospect, such as it is difficult for the dweller in plains, with their always limited horizons, to form even an idea of. For hundreds of miles the view to the east extended into Siberia, until all disappeared in fine blue vapour. “There is something truly grand,” says Mr. Atkinson, “in looking over these black and apparently interminable forests, in which no trace of a human habitation, not even a wreath of smoke, can be seen to assure us that man is there. Turning to the north, and about one hundred versts distant, Pardinsky Kanem rises out of the dark forest (this is one of the highest points in the Ural chain); it is partly covered with snow, and shines like frosted silver in the bright sun. All the mountains near are blue, purple, and misty, with a rugged foreground of rocks of great height, broken into all shapes and forms. In fact, the summit of the Katchkanar is evidently a mountain in ruins, the softer parts having been removed or torn away by the hand of time, leaving the barren portion, or vertebræ of the mountain, standing like a huge skeleton, which, seen at a distance, often assumed the most fantastic and picturesque shapes.”