time; so, remain you, and look on at the awful scene, and copy it down
in words if you can. If at the end of the trial you are dissatisfied
with your skill as a painter, and find that the biggest of your words
cannot render the hues and vastness of that tremendous swelling sea--of
those lean solitary crags standing rigid along the shore, where they
have been watching the ocean ever since it was made--of those grey
towers of Dunluce standing upon a leaden rock, and looking as if
some old old princess, of old old fairy times, were dragon-guarded
within--of yon flat stretches of sand where the Scotch and Irish
mermaids hold conference--come away, too, and prate no more about the
scene! There is that in nature, dear Jenkins, which passes even our
powers. We can feel the beauty of a magnificent landscape, perhaps: but
we can describe a leg of mutton and turnips better. Come, then, this
scene is for our betters to depict. If Mr. Tennyson were to come hither
for a month, and brood over the place, he might, in some of those lofty
heroic lines which the author of the _Morte d’Arthur_ knows how to pile
up, convey to the reader a sense of this gigantic desolate scene. What!
you, too, are a poet? Well, then Jenkins, stay! but believe me, you had
best take my advice, and come off.
_The Irish Sketch-Book_ (London, 1843).
THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS
(_CANADA_)
DOUGLAS SLADEN
If Banff represents the Rocky Mountains made easy, the Glacier House
represents the Selkirks made easy--a much more notable performance, for
these mountains had long been regarded as impassable by engineering.
The Glacier House is a few miles beyond Rogers’ Pass, in the midst
of the line’s greatest marvels of nature and engineering. Just
before comes the monarch of snow sheds; just above the monarch of
glaciers; just below the monarch of viaducts. The Great Glacier of
the Selkirks comes to a conclusion within a couple of miles above it.
The moraines and splintered forests at its foot tell a frightful tale
of destruction, and the glacier advances every year; but only a few
inches, so the hotel is safe for the present.
The hotel is a pretty little châlet, mostly dining-room, with a trim,
level lawn in front containing a fine fountain. Eighteen miles broad
is the great Glacier of the Selkirks, one foot of which is planted so
threateningly above the hotel and the railway station, that it looks as
if it meant to stamp them out of existence with the stealth of a thief
in the night.
A marvellous and delightful walk it is from the hotel to the
Glacier--at first through dry woods of fir and spruce, and balsam
and tamarack, carpeted, wherever the sun breaks through, with purple
blueberries, wild raspberries, pigeon and salmon berries. Here you
might meet a grizzly bear any minute. You pause, if you are only a man
and a woman, on the lovers’ seat under the thousand-ton boulder hurled
down by the Glacier in the childhood of the earth. Then you pass the
fierce glacial torrent of grey-green water, so cold or charged with
impurities that fish refuse to live in it, swelling, as all snow-fed
rivers do, as the heat of a summer’s day waxes. Some of its pools are
huge and deep; some of its falls and rapids as fierce as the cataract
at Lorette, rounded boulders and splintered trunks everywhere attesting
its fury. The path crosses and recrosses the river over bridges of
tree-trunks, with smaller trunks loosely pinned across them, like the
little straw mats in which cream cheeses are wrapped. As the path
mounts, the scenery becomes more open, and you are greeted, according
to the season, with Canada’s gorgeous lily or Canada’s prodigality of
wild fruits; for you are in the track of the glacier and the avalanche,
and in the death of the forest is the birth of blossoms and berries.
All around you now is a scene of awful grandeur--boulders as big as
settlers’ huts, and giant tree trunks, many of them blackened with
fire, tossed together like the rubbish on a dust-heap, and, brooding
over all, the great Glacier like a dragon crouching for the spring. One
can hardly believe it is the Glacier; the transitions are so abrupt.
A turn of a path brings you almost in contact with a piece of ice
larger than any lake in the British Islands. From under its skirts
trickle tiny rills; a few feet below, the rills league themselves into
a river. Even a first-class glacier is a disappointing affair if you
go too close. Its blueness disappears, also its luminosity, except
in crevasses deep enough to show you the pure heart of the ice. The
surface is a dirty-looking mixture of ice and snow. There were two
lovely horizontal crevasses, one so spacious and shining that it is
called the Fairy Cavern. The pleasure of standing in them is spoilt,
because they look all the time as if they were going to close on you.
At another foot of the Glacier there are immense moraines, looking like
the earthworks of Dover Castle. I examined them one October day when I
went with a guide to the top of the Glacier, eight thousand feet above
sea-level, to see the splendid Glacier-girdled head of Mount Fox on the
other side of the abyss.
I never intend to do any more mountain climbing through deep, fresh
snow. For the last hour or two of the ascent the snow was as deep as
one’s thighs at every step, and though the guide was towing me by a
rope tied round my waist, it was intolerably wearisome. To begin with,
he had to sound with his staff at every step and see that we were on
_terra firma_, and not on the _soufflet_ of a crevasse; and though
there had been such a snowfall the night before, the sun was as hot as
summer overhead. The sight was worth doing once, with the miles and
miles of the sea of ice all round one, and the long white slopes of
virgin snow.
If it had not been for the aggressive visage of Mount Fox, it would
have answered to the description of the interior of Greenland given
me by Dr. Nansen, where the world consists of yourselves, the sun, and
the snow. We started at eight o’clock in the morning, but in some way
or other I was not quite as rapid as the guide had calculated, for
a couple of hours before nightfall he began to get excited, if not
alarmed. We were at the time clear of the deep snow, and muddling about
in a mixture of drifts and moraines; but after dark he was not sure of
his way until we struck the path at the foot of the Glacier....
The Glacier House has not only its noble and easily accessible glacier;
it is in the very heart of the finest mountain scenery in the Selkirks,
which is so different to the scenery of the Rockies. The Canadian
Rockies are blunt-topped _fisty_ mountains, with knuckles of bare rock
sticking out everywhere. The Selkirks are graceful pyramids and sharp
sierras, up to their shoulders in magnificent forests of lofty pines.
The trees on the Rockies are much smaller and poorer. Right above the
hotel, to the left of the overhanging Glacier, is the bare steeple of
Sir Donald, one of the monarchs of the range; Ross Peak and Cheops
frown on the descent of the line to the Pacific; and the line of the
Atlantic is guarded by the hundred pinnacles of the rifted mountain,
formerly known as the Hermit, and now, with singular infelicity,
re-christened, in an eponymous fit, Mount Tupper.
[Illustration: THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS.]
Sir Charles Tupper is one of Canada’s greatest men, but his name is
more suitable for a great man than a great mountain, especially since
there is a very perfect effect of a hermit and his dog formed by
boulders near the top of the mountain. The men in the railway camp
have got over this difficulty with the doggerel:
“That’s Sir Charles Tupper
Going home to his supper.”
We made two long stays at the Glacier House, and I never enjoyed
anything more in my life than the effect of the snug little châlet,
with its velvety lawn, in the stronghold of the giant mountains,
brought into touch with the great world twice a day by the trains east
and west, which echoed their approach and departure miles on miles
through the ranges.
_On the Cars and Off_ (London, 1895).
MAUNA LOA
(_HAWAII_)
LADY BRASSEY
At 6:30 A. M., we made the island of Hawaii, rather too much to
leeward, as we had been carried by the strong current at least eighteen
miles out of our course. We were therefore obliged to beat up to
windward, in the course of which operation we passed a large bark
running before the wind--the first ship we had seen since leaving
Tahiti--and also a fine whale, blowing close to us. We could not see
the high land in the centre of the island, owing to the mist in which
it was enveloped, and there was great excitement and much speculation
on board as to the principal points which were visible. At noon the
observations taken proved that Tom was right in his opinion as to our
exact position. The wind dropped as we approached the coast, where we
could see the heavy surf dashing against the black lava cliffs, rushing
up the little creeks, and throwing its spray in huge fountain-like jets
high above the tall cocoanut-trees far inland.
We sailed along close to the shore, and by two o’clock were near the
entrance to the Bay of Hilo. In answer to our signal for a pilot, a
boat came off with a man who said he knew the entrance to the harbour,
but informed us that the proper pilot had gone to Honolulu on a
pleasure trip.
It was a clear afternoon. The mountains, Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, could
be plainly seen from top to bottom, their giant crests rising nearly
14,000 feet above our heads, their tree and fern clad slopes seamed
with deep gulches or ravines, down each of which a fertilizing river
ran into the sea. Inside the reef, the white coral shore, on which the
waves seemed too lazy to break, is fringed with a belt of cocoanut
palms, amongst which, as well as on the hillsides, the little white
houses are prettily dotted. All are surrounded by gardens, so full of
flowers that the bright patches of colour were plainly visible even
from the deck of the yacht. The harbour is large, and is exposed only
to one bad wind, which is most prevalent during the winter months....
It was half-past nine before we were all mounted and fairly off. The
first part of our way lay along the flat ground, gay with bright
scarlet Guernsey lilies, and shaded by cocoanut-trees, between the
town and the sea. Then we struck off to the right, and soon left the
town behind us, emerging into the open country. At a distance from
the sea, Hilo looks as green as the Emerald Isle itself; but on a
closer inspection the grass turns out to be coarse and dry, and many
of the trees look scrubby and half dead. Except in the “gulches” and
the deep holes, between the hills, the island is covered with lava,
in many places of so recent a deposit that it has not yet had time to
decompose, and there is consequently only a thin layer of soil on its
surface. The soil being, however, very rich, vegetation flourishes
luxuriantly for a time; but as soon as the roots have penetrated a
certain depth, and have come into contact with the lava, the trees
wither up and perish, like the seed that fell on stony ground.
The _ohia_ trees form a handsome feature in the landscape, with their
thick stems, glossy foliage, and light crimson flowers. The fruit is a
small, pink, waxy-looking apple, slightly acid, pleasant to the taste
when you are thirsty. The candle-nut trees attain to a large size,
and their light green foliage and white flowers have a very graceful
appearance. Most of the foliage, however, is spoiled by a deposit
of a black dust, not unlike what one sees on the leaves of a London
garden. I do not know whether this is caused by the fumes of the not
far-distant volcano, or whether it is some kind of mold or fungus.
After riding about ten miles in the blazing sun we reached a forest,
where the vegetation was quite tropical, though not so varied in its
beauties as that of Brazil, or of the still more lovely South Sea
Islands. There were ferns of various descriptions in the forest,
and many fine trees, entwined, supported, or suffocated by numerous
climbing plants, amongst which were blue and lilac convolvulus, and
magnificent passion-flowers. The protection from the sun afforded by
this dense mass of foliage was extremely grateful; but the air of the
forest was close and stifling, and at the end of five miles we were
glad to emerge once more into the open. The rest of the way lay over
the hard lava, through a desert of scrubby vegetation, occasionally
relieved by clumps of trees in hollows. More than once we had a fine
view of the sea, stretching away into the far distance, though it
was sometimes mistaken for the bright blue sky, until the surf could
be seen breaking upon the black rocks, amid the encircling groves of
cocoanut-trees.
The sun shone fiercely at intervals, and the rain came down several
times in torrents. The pace was slow, the road was dull and dreary, and
many were the inquiries made for the “Half-way House,” long before we
reached it.
Directly we had finished our meal--about three o’clock--the guide
came and tried to persuade us that, as the baggage mules had not yet
arrived, it would be too late for us to go on to-day, and that we had
better spend the night where we were, and start early in the morning.
We did not, however, approve of this arrangement, so the horses were
saddled, and leaving word that the baggage-mules were to follow us on
as soon as possible, we mounted, and set off for the “Volcano House.”
We had not gone far before we were again overtaken by a shower, which
once more drenched us to the skin.
The scene was certainly one of extreme beauty. The moon was hidden by a
cloud, and the prospect lighted only by the red glare of the volcano,
which hovered before and above us like the Israelites’ pillar of fire,
giving us hope of a splendid spectacle when we should at last reach
the long wished-for crater. Presently the moon shone forth again, and
gleamed and glistened on the raindrops and silver grasses till they
looked like fireflies and glowworms. When we emerged from the wood, we
found ourselves at the very edge of the old crater, the bed of which,
three or four hundred feet beneath us, was surrounded by steep and in
many places overhanging sides. It looked like an enormous caldron, four
or five miles in width, full of a mass of coloured pitch. In the centre
was the still glowing stream of dark red lava, flowing slowly towards
us, and in every direction were red-hot patches, and flames and smoke
issuing from the ground. A bit of the “black country” at night, with
all the coal-heaps on fire, would give you some idea of the scene. Yet
the first sensation is rather one of disappointment, as one expects
greater activity on the part of the volcano; but the new crater was
still to be seen, containing the lake of fire, with steep walls rising
up in the midst of the sea of lava....
The grandeur of the view in the direction of the volcano increased as
the evening wore on. The fiery cloud above the present crater augmented
in size and depth of colour; the extinct crater glowed red in thirty or
forty different places; and clouds of white vapour issued from every
crack and crevice in the ground, adding to the sulphurous smell with
which the atmosphere was laden. Our room faced the volcano: there were
no blinds, and I drew back the curtains and lay watching the splendid
scene until I fell asleep.
* * * * *
Sunday, December 24th (Christmas Eve).
I was up at four o’clock, to gaze once more on the wondrous spectacle
that lay before me. The molten lava still flowed in many places, the
red cloud over the fiery lake was bright as ever, and the stream was
slowly ascending in every direction, over hill and valley, till, as
the sun rose, it became difficult to distinguish clearly the sulphurous
vapours from the morning mists. We walked down to the Sulphur Banks,
about a quarter of a mile from the “Volcano House,” and burned our
gloves and boots in our endeavours to procure crystals, the beauty of
which generally disappeared after a very short exposure to the air. We
succeeded, however, in finding a few good specimens, and, by wrapping
them at once in paper and cotton-wool and putting them into a bottle,
hope to bring them home uninjured.
On our return we found a gentleman who had just arrived from Kan, and
who proposed to join us in our expedition to the crater, and at three
o’clock in the afternoon we set out, a party of eight, with two guides,
and three porters to carry our wraps and provisions, and to bring back
specimens. Before leaving the inn the landlord came to us and begged us
in an earnest and confidential manner to be very careful to do exactly
what our guides told us, and especially to follow in their footsteps
exactly when returning in the dark. He added: “There never has been an
accident happen to anybody from my house, and I should feel real mean
if one did: but there have been a power of narrow escapes.”
First of all we descended the precipice, 300 feet in depth, forming the
wall of the old crater, but now thickly covered with vegetation. It is
so steep in many places that flights of zigzag wooden steps have been
inserted in the face of the cliff in some places, in order to render
the descent practicable. At the bottom we stepped straight on to the
surface of cold boiled lava, which we had seen from above last night.
Even here, in every crevice where a few grains of soil had collected,
delicate little ferns might be seen struggling for life, and thrusting
out their green fronds towards the light. It was the most extraordinary
walk imaginable over that vast plain of lava, twisted and distorted
into every conceivable shape and form, according to the temperature it
had originally attained, and the rapidity with which it had cooled,
its surface, like half-molten glass, cracking and breaking beneath our
feet. Sometimes we came to a patch that looked like the contents of
a pot, suddenly petrified in the act of boiling; sometimes the black
iridescent lava had assumed the form of waves, or more frequently of
huge masses of rope, twisted and coiled together; sometimes it was
piled up like a collection of organ-pipes, or had gathered into mounds
and cones of various dimensions. As we proceeded the lava became hotter
and hotter, and from every crack arose gaseous fumes, affecting our
noses and throats in a painful manner; till at last, when we had to
pass to leeward of the molten stream flowing from the lake, the vapours
almost choked us, and it was with difficulty we continued to advance.
The lava was more glassy and transparent-looking, as if it had been
fused at a higher temperature than usual; and the crystals of sulphur,
alum, and other minerals, with which it abounded, reflected the light
in bright prismatic colours. In places it was quite transparent, and we
could see beneath it the long streaks of a stringy kind of lava, like
brown spun glass, called “Pélé’s hair.”
[Illustration: LAVA CASCADE FLOW.]
At last we reached the foot of the present crater, and commenced the
ascent of the outer wall. Many times the thin crust gave way beneath
our guide, and he had to retire quickly from the hot, blinding, choking
fumes that immediately burst forth. But we succeeded in reaching the
top; and then what a sight presented itself to our astonished eyes! I
could neither speak nor move at first, but could only stand and gaze at
the terrible grandeur of the scene.
We were standing on the extreme edge of the precipice, overhanging a
lake of molten fire, a hundred feet below us, and nearly a mile across.
Dashing against the cliffs on the opposite side, with a noise like
the roar of a stormy ocean, waves of blood-red, fiery, liquid lava
hurled their billows upon an iron-bound headland, and then rushed up
the face of the cliffs to toss their gory spray high in the air. The
restless, heaving lake boiled and bubbled, never remaining the same for
two minutes together. Its normal colour seemed to be a dull, dark red,
covered with a thin grey scum, which every moment and in every part
swelled and cracked, and emitted fountains, cascades, and whirlpools of
yellow and red fire, while sometimes one big golden river, sometimes
four or five flowed across it. There was an island on one side of
the lake, which the fiery waves seemed to attack unceasingly with
relentless fury, as if bent on hurling it from its base. On the other
side was a large cavern, into which the burning mass rushed with a
loud roar, breaking down in its impetuous headlong career the gigantic
stalactites that overhung the mouth of the cave, and flinging up the
liquid material for the formation of fresh ones.
It was all terribly grand, magnificently sublime; but no words could
adequately describe such a scene. The precipice on which we were
standing overhung the crater so much that it was impossible to see what
was going on immediately beneath; but from the columns of smoke and
vapour that arose, the flames and sparks that constantly drove us back
from the edge, it was easy to imagine that there must have been two or
three grand fiery fountains below. As the sun set, and the darkness
enveloped the scene, it became more awful than ever. We retired a
little way from the brink, to breathe some fresh air, and to try and
eat the food we had brought with us; but this was an impossibility.
Every instant a fresh explosion or glare made us jump up to survey the
stupendous scene. The violent struggles of the lava to escape from
its fiery bed, and the loud and awful noises by which they were at
times accompanied, suggested the idea that some imprisoned monsters
were trying to release themselves from their bondage with shrieks
and groans, and cries of agony and despair, at the futility of their
efforts.
Sometimes there were at least seven spots on the borders of the lake
where the molten lava dashed up furiously against the rocks--seven
fire-fountains playing simultaneously. With the increasing darkness the
colours emitted by the glowing mass became more and more wonderful,
varying from the deepest jet-black to the palest grey, from darkest
maroon through cherry and scarlet to the most delicate pink, violet,
and blue; from the richest brown, through orange and yellow, to
the lightest straw-colour. And there was yet another shade, only
describable by the term “molten-lava colour.” Even the smokes and
vapours were rendered beautiful by their borrowed lights and tints,
and the black peaks, pinnacles, and crags, which surrounded the
amphitheatre, formed a splendid and appropriate background. Sometimes
great pieces broke off and tumbled with a crash into the burning lake,
only to be remelted and thrown up anew. I had for some time been
feeling very hot and uncomfortable, and on looking round the cause was
at once apparent. Not two inches beneath the surface, the grey lava on
which we were standing and sitting was red-hot. A stick thrust through
it caught fire, a piece of paper was immediately destroyed, and the
gentlemen found the heat from the crevices so great that they could not
approach near enough to light their pipes.
One more last look, and then we turned our faces away from the scene
that had enthralled us for so many hours. The whole of the lava we had
crossed, in the extinct crater, was now aglow in many patches, and in
all directions flames were bursting forth, fresh lava was flowing,
and smoke and steam were issuing from the surface. It was a toilsome
journey back again, walking as we did in single file, and obeying the
strict injunctions of our head guide to follow him closely, and to
tread exactly in his footsteps. On the whole it was easier by night
than by day to distinguish the route to be taken, as we could now see
the dangers that before we could only feel; and many were the fiery
crevices we stepped over or jumped across. Once I slipped, and my
foot sank through the thin crust. Sparks issued from the ground, and
the stick on which I leaned caught fire before I could fairly recover
myself.
* * * * *
Monday, December 25th, (Christmas Day).