A journal of a winter crossing of the Alps, by Charles Wetherby

An original travel journal written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

In this journal entry, written in 1864, an English traveller crosses a mountain pass from Switzerland into Italy in winter.

9th January. Rose at four by candlelight, the innkeeper hammering on every door, and by five we were seated in the diligence, nine passengers wedged together with our knees touching. At the foot of the pass the wheels could go no further. The coach was lifted bodily on to runners, and we ourselves were divided among eleven small sledges, two of them piled with our luggage and the rest each holding one traveller, every one drawn by a single horse, with a driver perched behind.

The road climbed by zigzags so sharp that from my sledge I could look straight down upon the heads of the horses below me. Snow posts, tall black poles, stood at intervals to mark the way, for the drifts had buried every wall. Near the summit the wind rose and drove the snow into our faces like sand, and my driver, an old man with icicles hanging from his moustache, got down and led the horse by its bridle for nearly an hour. I confess I was more frightened than I had been at any time since leaving England.

At the summit stood a stone refuge, where we were given scalding wine and a fire, and where a large dog lay across the doorway and would not move for anyone. The descent was another matter entirely: the sledges flew down the slope so fast that I clung to the sides with both hands and laughed aloud, I hardly know why. We reached the first Italian village at dusk, eleven hours after setting out.

(a) How many passengers travelled in the diligence? (b) Why were tall black poles placed beside the road? (c) How did the writer feel during the descent?