The Mountains Of Madness
CHAPTER III (Part 1)

I guess, none of us slept very well or continuously that morning; neither the excitement of the discovery of the Lake nor the rising anger of the wind opposed such a thing. So powerful was the explosion, even wherever we were, that we could not help but wonder how severe things were in Lake's camp, directly below the vast unknown peak that bred and sent it. McTighe awoke at ten and tried to bring Lake to wireless, as agreed, but some disrupted airborne electrical conditions westward appeared to be blocking communication. We did, however, get Arkham, and Douglas told me that he had also tried in vain to reach Lake. He did not know about the wind, as very few were blowing on McMurdo Sound despite the constant anger at where we were.

Throughout the day we all listened anxiously and tried to get to Lake periodically, but always without success. Around noon, positive gales struck from the west, making us fearful of the safety of our camp; but eventually subsided, with only moderate relapses at 2 P.M. After three hours, the atmosphere was very quiet, and we redoubled our efforts to get Lake. Reflecting that it has four planes, each equipped with excellent shortwave suits, we cannot imagine a regular crash that could cripple all of its wireless equipment at once. Nevertheless, the silence of the stone continued; and when we thought of the delirious power that the wind must have had in its territory, we could not help but make the most appalling conjecture.

At six o'clock our fears became strong and certain, and after a wireless consultation with Douglas and Thorfinnssen, I decided to take steps toward an investigation. The fifth aircraft, which we left in the McMurdo Sound supply cache with Sherman and two sailors, is in good condition and ready for instant use; and it looks like the emergency that saved him is now in our hands. I got Sherman over wireless and ordered him to join me with the plane and the two sailors at the southern base as quickly as possible; the air conditions seemed to be very favorable. We then talked about the personnel of the upcoming investigation; and decided that we would put all the hands in, along with the sled and the dog I had saved. Even so, a large payload would not be too much for one of the large aircraft built for our main orders for heavy equipment transportation. At times, I still try to reach Lake wirelessly, but all without a destination.

Sherman, with Gunnarsson and Larsen sailors, departed at 7:30; and reported a quiet flight from several points on the wing. They arrived at our headquarters in the middle of the night, and all hands at once discussed their next move. It was a risky business sailing over Antarctica in a single plane without a base line, but nothing backed away from what seemed like the simplest of needs. We arrived at two o'clock for a short break after some initial loading of the plane, but got up again in four hours to complete loading and packing.

At 07:15 A. M., on January 25, we began flying northwest under McTighe's supervision with ten people, seven dogs, a sled, fuel and food supplies, and other items include aircraft wireless clothing. The atmosphere is clear, fairly calm, and the temperature is relatively mild; and we anticipate very little difficulty in reaching the latitudes and longitudes that Lake designates as its campsite. Our concern was about what we might find, or fail to find, at the end of our journey; for silence continued to answer all the calls sent to the camp.

The Larsen sailor was the first to spy on the cones and pinnacles shaped like witches in front, and his shout sent everyone to the windows of the large-bodied planes. Regardless of our speed, they were very slow in getting the lead; therefore we knew that they had to be far away, and were visible only because of their abnormally high altitude.  However, little by little, they rise grimly into the western sky; allowing us to discern the various bare, gloomy, blackish peaks, and to capture the curiosity they inspired as seen in the reddish Antarctic light against the provocative backdrop of colorful clouds of ice dust. Throughout the spectacle there were persistent hints of incredible secrecy and potential disclosure; it was as if these terrifying and terrifying towers were marking the frightening gateposts leading to the forbidden dream space, and the abysses of time, space, and ultra-dimensionality are complex. I can't help feeling that those are the evil things — mountain of madness whose slopes further face some damned abyss. The background of the seething, half-luminous cloud had indescribable suggestions of something vague, far from the outside, far more than space; and it provides a chilling reminder of the alienation, separation, destruction, and eternal death of this unobservable and unexpected world of the austral.

The Elder Things's