NARRATIVE OF THE ST. ELIAS EXPEDITION OF 1890.
ORGANIZATION.
[Illustration: PLATE 8. SKETCH MAP OF MOUNT ST. ELIAS REGION, ALASKA,
By Mark B. Kerr.]
A long-cherished desire to study the geography, geology, and glaciers
of the region around Mount St. Elias was finally gratified when, in
the summer of 1890, the National Geographic Society made it possible
for me to undertake an expedition to that part of Alaska.
The expedition was organized under the joint auspices of the National
Geographic Society and the United States Geological Survey, but was
greatly assisted by individuals who felt an interest in the extension
of geographic knowledge. For the inception of exploration and for
securing the necessary funds, credit is due Mr. Willard D. Johnson.
The names of those who subscribed to the exploration fund of the
Society are as follows:
Boynton Leach. Henry Gannett.
Everett Hayden. Charles J. Bell.
Richardson Clover. J. S. Diller.
C. M. McCarteney. J. W. Powell.
C. A. Williams. J. G. Judd.
Willard D. Johnson. A. Graham Bell.
Israel C. Russell. Gardiner G. Hubbard.
Gilbert Thompson. A. W. Greely.
Harry King. J. W. Dobbins.
Morris Bien. J. W. Hays.
Wm. B. Powell. Edmund Alton.
Z. T. Carpenter. Bailey Willis.
Charles Nordhoff. E. S. Hosmer.
Rogers Birnie, Jr.
I was chosen by the Board of Managers of the National Geographic
Society and by the Director of the United States Geological Survey to
take charge of the expedition and to carry on geological and glacial
studies. Mr. Mark B. Kerr, topographer on the Geological Survey, was
assigned as an assistant, with the duty of making a topographical map
of the region explored. {76} Mr. E. S. Hosmer, of Washington, D. C.,
volunteered his services as general assistant.[25]
[Footnote 25: Copies of all instructions governing the work of the
expedition are given in Appendix A.]
Mr. Kerr left Washington on May 24 for San Francisco, where he made
arrangements for his special work, and reported to me at Seattle on
June 15. I left Washington on May 25 and went directly to Seattle,
where the necessary preparations for exploring an unknown and isolated
region were made.
From the large number of frontiersmen and sailors who applied for
positions on the expedition, seven men were selected as camp hands.
The foreman of this force was J. H. Christie, of Seattle, who had
spent the previous winter in charge of an expedition in the Olympian
mountains, and was well versed in all that pertains to frontier life.
The other camp hands were J. H. Crumback, L. S. Doney, W. L. Lindsley,
William Partridge, Thomas Stamy, and Thomas White.
The individual members of the party will be mentioned frequently
during this narrative; but I wish to state at the beginning that very
much of the success of the enterprise was due to the hard and faithful
work of the camp hands, to each one of whom I feel personally
indebted.
Two dogs, "Bud" and "Tweed," belonging to Mr. Christie, also became
members of the expedition.
All camp supplies, including tents, blankets, rations, etc., were
purchased at Seattle. Rations for ten men for one hundred days, on the
basis of the subsistence furnished by the United States Geological
Survey, were purchased and suitably packed for transportation in a
humid climate. Twenty-five tin cans were obtained, each measuring 6 x
12 x 14 inches, and in each a mixed ration sufficient for one man for
fifteen days was packed and hermetically sealed. These rations, thus
secured against moisture and in convenient shape for carrying on the
back (or "packing"), were for use above the timber line, where cooking
was possible only by means of oil stoves. The remainder of the
supplies, intended for use where fuel for camp-fires could be
obtained, were secured either in tin cans or in canvas sacks.
For cooking above timber line, two double-wick oil stoves were
provided, the usual cast-iron bases being replaced by smaller
reservoirs of tin, in order to avoid unnecessary weight. Coal oil was
carried in five-gallon cans, but a few rectangular cans {77} holding
one gallon each were provided for use while on the march. Subsequent
experience proved that this arrangement was satisfactory.
Four seven-by-seven tents, with ridge ropes, and two pyramidal
nine-by-nine center-pole tents, with flies, were provided, all made of
cotton drilling. The smaller tents were for use in the higher camps,
and the larger ones for the base camps. The tents were as light as
seemed practicable, and were found to answer well the purpose for
which they were intended.
Each man was supplied with one double Hudson Bay blanket, a
water-proof coat, a water-proof hat (the most serviceable being the
"sou'westers" used by seamen), and an alpenstock.[26] Each man also
carried a sheet made of light duck, seven feet square, to protect his
blankets and to be used as a shelter-tent if required. Each member of
the party was also required to have heavy boots or shoes, and suitable
woolen clothing. Each man was furnished with two pieces of hemp
"cod-line," 50 feet in length, to be used in packing blankets and
rations. The lines were doubled many times, so as to distribute the
weight on the shoulders, and were connected with two leather straps
for buckling about the package to be carried. The cod-lines were used
instead of ordinary pack-straps, for the reason that they distribute
the weight on the shoulder over a broader area, and also because they
can be made immediately available for climbing, crossing streams,
etc., when required. Several extra lines of the same material were
also taken as a reserve, or to be used in roping the party together
when necessary. Several of the party carried rifles, for each of which
a hundred rounds of fixed ammunition were issued. Two ice-axes for the
party were also provided.
[Footnote 26: Light rubber cloth was ordered from San Francisco for
the purpose of allowing each man a water-proof sheet to place under
his blankets, but was not received in time to be used.]
A canvas boat was made by the men while en route for the field, but
there was no occasion to use it, except as a cover for a cache left at
one of the earlier camps. Subsequent experience showed that snow-shoes
and one or two sleds would have been serviceable; but these were not
taken.
Our instruments were furnished by the United States Geological Survey.
The list included one transit, one gradienter, one sextant, two
prismatic compasses, one compass clinometer, {78} four pocket
thermometers, two psychrometers, one field-glass, two mercurial
barometers, three aneroids, steel tape-lines, and two photographic
outfits.
FROM SEATTLE TO SITKA.
Preparations having been completed, the expedition sailed from Seattle
June 16, on the steamer _Queen_, belonging to the Pacific Coast
Steamship Company, in command of Captain James Carroll, and reached
Sitka on the morning of June 24. This portion of our voyage was
through the justly celebrated "inland passage" of British Columbia and
southeastern Alaska, and was in every way delightful. We touched at
Victoria and Wrangell, and, after threading the Wrangell narrows,
entered Frederick sound, where the first floating ice was seen. The
bergs were from a neighboring glacier, which enters the sea at the
head of a deep inlet, too far away to be seen from the course followed
by the _Queen_. The route northward led through Stephens passage, and
afforded glimpses of glaciers both on the mainland and on Admiralty
island. In Taku inlet several hours were spent in examining the
glaciers, two of which come down to the sea. One on the western side
of the fjord, an ice-stream known as the Norris glacier, descends
through a deep valley and expands into a broad ice-foot on approaching
the water, though it is not washed by the waves, owing to an
accumulation of mud about its extremity. Another ice-stream is the
Taku glacier, situated at the head of the inlet. It comes boldly down
to the water, and ends in a splendid sea-cliff of azure blue, some 250
feet high. The adjacent waters are covered with icebergs shed by the
glacier. Some of the smaller fragments were hoisted on board the
_Queen_ for table use. The bold, rocky shores of the inlet are nearly
bare of vegetation, and indicate by their polished and striated
surfaces that glaciers of far greater magnitude than those now
existing formerly flowed through this channel.
After leaving Taku inlet, a day was spent at Juneau; and then the
_Queen_ steamed up Lynn canal to Pyramid harbor, near its head. For
picturesque beauty, this is probably the finest of the fjords of
Alaska. Several glaciers on each side of the inlet come down nearly to
the sea, and all the higher mountains are buried beneath perpetual
snow. On returning from Lynn canal, the _Queen_ visited Glacier bay,
and here passengers were allowed a few hours on shore at the Muir
glacier. The day of our visit {79} was unusually fine, and a splendid
view of the great ice-stream with its many tributaries was obtained
from a hill-top about a thousand feet high, on its eastern border. The
glacier discharges into the head of the bay and forms a magnificent
line of ice-cliffs over two hundred feet high and three miles in
extent.
This portion of the coast of Alaska has been described by several
writers; yet its bleak shores are still in large part unexplored. To
the west of the bay rise the magnificent peaks of the Fairweather
range, from which flow many great ice-streams. The largest of the
glaciers descending from these mountains into Glacier bay is called
the Pacific glacier. Like the Muir glacier, it discharges vast numbers
of icebergs into the sea.
The day after leaving Glacier bay we arrived at Sitka, and as soon as
practicable called on Lieutenant-Commander O. F. Farenholt, of the
U. S. S. _Pinta_, who had previously received instructions from the
Secretary of the Navy to take us to Yakutak bay. We also paid our
respects to the Governor and other Alaskan officials, and made a few
final preparations for the start westward.
FROM SITKA TO YAKUTAT BAY.
All of our effects having been transferred to the _Pinta_, we put to
sea early on the morning of June 25.
Honorable Lyman E. Knapp, Governor of Alaska, taking advantage of the
sailing of the _Pinta_, accompanied us on the voyage. Mr. Henry
Boursin, census enumerator, also joined us for the purpose of
obtaining information concerning the Indians at Yakutak.
The morning we left Sitka was misty, with occasional showers; but even
these unfavorable conditions could not obscure the beauty of the wild,
densely wooded shore along which we steamed. The weather throughout
the voyage was thick and foggy and the sea rough. We anchored in De
Monti bay, the first indentation on the eastern shore of Yakutat bay,
late the following afternoon, without having obtained so much as a
glimpse of the magnificent scenery of the rugged Fairweather range.
At Yakutat we found two small Indian villages, one on Khantaak island
and the other on the mainland to the eastward (both shown on plate 8).
The village on Khantaak island is the older of the two, and consists
of six houses built along the water's edge. The houses are made of
planks, each hewn from a single {80} log, after the manner of the
Thlinkets generally. They are rectangular, and have openings in the
roofs, with wind guards, for the escape of smoke. The fires, around
which the families gather, are built in the centers of the spaces
below. The houses are entered by means of oval openings, elevated two
feet above the ground on platforms along their fronts. In the interior
of each there is a rectangular space about twenty feet square
surrounded by raised platforms, the outer portions of which are shut
off by partitions and divided into smaller chambers.
The canoes used at Yakutat are each hewn from a single spruce log, and
are good examples of the boats in use throughout southern Alaska. They
are of all sizes, from a small craft scarcely large enough to hold a
single Indian to graceful boats forty or fifty feet in length and
capable of carrying a ton of merchandise with a dozen or more men.
They have high, overreaching stems and sterns, which give them a
picturesque, gondola-like appearance.
The village on the mainland is less picturesque, if such a term may be
allowed, than the group of houses already described, but it is of the
same type. Near at hand, along the shore to the southward, there are
two log houses, one of which is used at present as a mission by
Reverend Carl J. Hendriksen and his assistant, the other being
occupied as a trading post by Sitka merchants.
The Yakutat Indians are the most westerly branch of the great Thlinket
family which inhabits all of southeastern Alaska and a portion of
British Columbia. In intelligence they are above the average of
Indians generally, and are of a much higher type than the native
inhabitants of the older portion of the United States. They are quick
to learn the ways of the white man, and are especially shrewd in
bargaining. They are canoe Indians _par excellence_, and pass a large
part of their lives on the water in quest of salmon, seals, and
sea-otter. During the summer of our visit, about thirty sea-otter were
taken. They are usually shot in the primitive manner with
copper-pointed arrows, although repeating rifles of the most improved
patterns are owned by the natives, in spite of existing laws against
selling breech-loading arms to Indians. The fur of the sea-otter is
acknowledged to be the most beautiful, and is the most highly prized
of all pelts. Those taken at Yakutat during our visit were sold at an
average price of about seventy-five dollars. This, {81} together with
the sale of less valuable skins and the money received for baskets,
etc., made by the women for the tourist trade in Sitka, brought a
considerable revenue to the village. Improvident, like nearly all
Indians, the Yakutat villagers soon spend at the trading post the
money earned in this way.
The Yakutats belong without question to the Thlinket stock; but visits
from tribes farther westward, who travel in skin boats, are known to
have been made, and it seems probable that some mixture of Thlinket
and Innuit blood may occur in the natives at Yakutat. But if such
admixture has occurred, the Innuit element is so small that it escapes
the notice of one not skilled in ethnology.
We found Mr. Hendriksen most kind and obliging, and are indebted to
him for many favors and great assistance. Arrangements were made with
him for reading a base-barometer three times a day during July and
August. He also assisted us by acting as an interpreter, and in hiring
Indians and canoes.
The weather continued thick and stormy after reaching Yakutat bay, and
Captain Farenholt did not think it advisable to take his vessel up the
main inlet, where many dangers were reported to exist. A canoe having
been purchased from the trader and others hired from the Indians, a
start was made from the head of Yakutat bay early on the morning of
June 28, in company with two of the _Pinta's_ boats loaded with
supplies, under the command of Ensign C. W. Jungen.
CANOE TRIP UP YAKUTAT BAY.
Bidding good-bye to our friends on the _Pinta_, to whom we were
indebted for many favors, we started for our trip up the bay in a
pouring rain-storm. Our way at first led through the narrow, placid
water-ways dividing the islands on the eastern side of the bay. The
islands and the shores of the mainland are densely wooded, and
appeared picturesque and inviting even through the veil of mist and
rain that shrouded them. The forests consist principally of spruce
trees, so dense and having such a tangle of underbrush that it is only
with the greatest difficulty that one can force a way through them;
while the ground beneath the forest, and even the trunks and branches
of the living trees, are covered and festooned with luxuriant growths
of mosses and lichens. Our trip along these wooded shores, but half
revealed {82} through the drifting mist, was novel and enjoyable in
spite of discomforts due to the rain. We rejoiced at the thought that
we were nearing the place where the actual labors of the expedition
would begin; we were approaching the unknown; visions of unexplored
regions filled with new wonders occupied our fancies, and made us
eager to press on.
About noon on the first day we pitched our tents on a strip of shingle
skirting the shore of the mainland to the east of Knight island. The
_Pinta's_ boats spread their white wings and sailed away to the
southward before a freshening wind, and our last connection with
civilization was broken. As one of the frontiersmen of our party
remarked, we were "at home once more." It may appear strange to some
that any one could apply such a term to a camp on the wild shore of an
unexplored country; but the Bohemian spirit is so strong in some
breasts, and the restraint of civilization so irksome, that the homing
instinct is reversed and leads irresistibly to the wilderness and to
the silent mountain tops.
The morning after arriving at our first camp, Kerr, Christie, and
Hendriksen, with all the camp hands except two, went on with the
canoes, and in a few hours reached the entrance of Disenchantment bay.
They found a camping place about twelve miles ahead, on a narrow strip
of shingle beneath the precipices of Point Esperanza, and there
established our second camp.
My necessary delay at Camp 1 was utilized, so far as possible, in
learning what I could concerning the adjacent country, and in making a
beginning in the study of its geology. Our camp was at the immediate
base of the mountains, and on the northeastern side of the wide
plateau bordering the continent. The plateau stretches southeastward
for twenty or thirty miles, and is low and heavily forested. The
eastern shore of the bay near our first camp is formed of bluffs about
150 feet high, which have been eaten back by the waves so as to expose
fine sections of the strata of sand, gravel and bowlders of which the
plateau is composed. All the lowlands bordering the mountains have,
apparently, a common history, and doubtless owe their origin
principally to the deposition of débris brought from the mountains by
former glaciers. When this material was deposited, or soon afterward,
the land was depressed about 150 feet lower than at present, as is
shown by a terrace cut along the base of the mountains at that
elevation. The steep mountain face {83} extending northwestward from
Camp 1 to the mouth of Disenchantment bay bears evidence of being the
upheaved side of a fault of quite recent origin. The steep inclination
and shattered condition of the rocks along this line are evidently due
to the crushing which accompanied the displacement.
In the wild gorge above our first camp, a small glacier was found
descending to within 500 feet of the sea-level, and giving rise to a
wild, roaring stream of milky water. Efforts to reach the glacier were
frustrated by the density of the dripping vegetation and by the clouds
that obscured the mountains.
A canoe trip was made to a rocky islet between Knight island and the
mainland toward the north. The islet, like the rocks in the adjacent
mountain range, is composed of sandstone, greatly shattered and
seamed, and nearly vertical in attitude. Its surface was densely
carpeted with grass and brilliant flowers. Many sea birds had their
homes there. From its summit a fine view was obtained of the
cloud-capped mountains toward the northeast, of the dark forest
covering Knight island, and of the broad plateau toward the southeast.
Some of the most charming effects in the scenery of the forest-clad
and mist-covered shores of Alaska are due to the wreaths of vapor
ascending from the deep forests during the interval in which the warm
sunlight shines through the clouds; and on the day of our visit to the
islet, the forests, when not concealed by mist, sent up smoke-like
vapor wreaths of many fantastic shapes to mingle with the clouds in
which the higher mountains disappeared.
At Camp 1 the personnel of the party was unexpectedly reduced. Mr.
Hosmer was ill, and remained with me at camp instead of pushing on
with Kerr and Christie; and the weather continuing stormy, he
concluded to abandon the expedition and return to the mission at Port
Mulgrave. Having secured the services of an Indian who chanced to pass
our camp in his canoe, Mr. Hosmer bade us good-bye, ensconced himself
in the frail craft, and started for sunnier lands. It was subsequently
learned that he reached Yakutak without mishap, and a few days later
sailed for Sitka in a small trading schooner. Our force during the
remainder of the season, not including Mr. Hendriksen and the Indians,
whose services were engaged for only a few days, numbered nine men all
told.
On the evening of June 30 we had a bright camp-fire blazing on the
beach to welcome the returning party. Near sunset a {84} canoe
appeared in the distance, and a shot was fired as it came round a bend
in the shore. We felt sure that our companions were returning, and
piled drift-wood on the roaring camp-fire to cheer them after their
hard day's work on the water. As the canoe approached, each dip of the
paddle sent a flash of light to us, and we could distinguish the men
at their work; but we soon discovered that it was occupied not by our
own party but by Indians returning from a seal hunt in Disenchantment
bay. They brought their canoe high on the beach, and made themselves
at home about our camp-fire. There were seven or eight well-built
young men in the party, all armed with guns. In former times such an
arrival would have been regarded with suspicion; but thanks to the
somewhat frequent visits of war vessels to Yakutat, and also to the
labors of missionaries, the wild spirits of the Indians have been
greatly subdued and reduced to semi-civilized condition during the
past quarter of a century.
Just as the long twilight deepened into night, another craft came
around the distant headland, but less swiftly than the former one; and
soon our picturesque canoe, with Christie at the stern steering with a
paddle in true Indian fashion, grated on the shingle beach. Christie
has spent many years of his life with the Indians of the Northwest,
and has adopted some of their habits. On beginning frontier life once
more, he discarded the hat of the white man, and wore a blue cloth
tied tightly around his forehead and streaming off in loose ends
behind. The change was welcome, for it added to the picturesque
appearance of the party.
The men, weary with their long row against currents and head-winds,
greatly enjoyed the camp-fire. Our Indian visitors, after lunching
lightly on the leaf-stalks of a plant resembling celery
(_Archangelica_), which grows abundantly everywhere on the lowlands of
southern Alaska, departed toward Yakutat. Supper was served in one of
the large tents, and we all rolled ourselves in our blankets for the
night.
The next day, July 1, we abandoned Camp 1, passed by Camp 2, and late
in the afternoon reached the northwestern side of Yakutat bay,
opposite Point Esperanza. Our trip along the wild shore, against which
a heavy surf was breaking, was full of novelty and interest. The
mountains rose sheer from the water to a height of two or three
thousand feet. About their bases, like {85} dark drapery, following
all the folds of the mountain side, ran a band of vegetation; but the
spruce forests had mostly disappeared, and only a few trees were seen
here and there in the deeper cañons. The position of the terrace along
the base of the mountain, first noticed at Camp 1, could be plainly
traced, although densely covered with bushes. The mountain peaks above
were all sharp and angular, indicating at a glance that they had never
been subjected to glacial action. The sandstone and shales forming the
naked cliffs are fractured and crushed, and are evidently yielding
rapidly to the weather; but the characteristic red color due to rock
decay could not be seen. The prevailing tone of the mountains, when
not buried beneath vegetation or covered with snow, is a cold gray.
Bright, warm, summer skies are needed to reveal the variety and beauty
of that forbidding region.
Our large canoe behaved well, although heavily loaded. Sometimes the
wind was favorable, when an extemporized sail lessened the fatigue of
the trip. The landing on the northwestern shore was effected, through
a light surf, on a sandy beach heavily encumbered with icebergs. As it
was hazardous to beach the large canoe with its load of boxes and
bags, the heavy freight was transferred, a few pieces at a time, to
smaller canoes, each manned by a single Indian, and all was safely
landed beyond the reach of the breakers. Camp 3 was established on the
sandy beach just above the reach of the tide and near the mouth of a
roaring brook. The drift-wood along the shore furnished abundant fuel
for a blazing camp-fire; our tents were pitched, and once more we felt
at home.
Two canoes were dispatched, in care of Doney, to the camp on the
opposite shore (Camp 2), with instructions to bring over the
equipments left there. Kerr went over also for the purpose of making a
topographic station on the bluff forming Point Esperanza should the
morrow's weather permit.
It was curious to note the care which our Indians took of their
canoes. Not only were they drawn high up on the beach, out of the
reach of all possible tides, but each canoe was swathed in wet cloths,
especially at the prow and stern, to prevent them from drying and
cracking. The canoes, being fashioned from a single spruce log, are
especially liable to split if allowed to dry thoroughly.
The day after our arrival, all of our party and all of our camp {86}
outfit were assembled at Camp 3. Mr. Hendriksen and our Indian friends
took their departure, and the work for which we had come so far was
actually begun.
BASE CAMP ON THE SHORE OF YAKUTAT BAY.
About the tents at Camp 3 the rank grass grew waist-high, sheltering
the strawberries and dwarf raspberries that bloomed beneath. A little
way back from the shore, clumps of alders, interspersed with spruce
trees, marked the beginning of the forest which covered the hills
toward the west and southwest. Toward the north rose rugged mountains,
their summits shrouded in mist; in the steep gorges on their sides the
ends of glaciers gleamed white, like foaming cataracts descending from
cloudland.
The day following our arrival dawned bright and beautiful. Every cloud
vanished from the mountains as by magic, revealing their magnificent
summits in clear relief. We found ourselves at the base of a rugged
mountain range extending far southeastward and northwestward, its
first rampart so breached as to allow the waters of the ocean to
extend into the very midst of the great peaks beyond. Through this
opening we had a splendid view of the snow-clad mountains filling the
northern sky and stretching away in lessening perspective toward the
east until they blended with the distant clouds.
Topographic work was started, and the preparation of "packs" for the
journey inland was begun at once; and all hands were kept busy. A
base-line was measured by Mr. Kerr, and a beginning was made in the
development of a system of triangulation which was carried on
throughout the season.
Our stay at the camp on the shore extended over a week, and enabled us
to become familiar with many of the changes in the rugged scenery
surrounding Yakutat bay. The bay itself was covered with icebergs for
most of the time. Owing to the prevailing winds and the action of
shore currents, the ice accumulated on the coast adjacent to our camp.
For many days the beach toward both the north and the south, as far as
the eye could reach, was piled high with huge masses of blue and white
ice. When the bay was rough, the surf roared angrily among the
stranded bergs and, dashing over them, formed splendid sheets of foam;
while on bright, sunny days the bay gleamed and flashed in the
sunlight as the summer winds gently rippled {87} its surface, and the
thousands of icebergs crowding the azure plain seemed a numberless
fleet of fairy boats with crystal hulls and fantastic sails of blue
and white. When the long summer days drew to a close and gave place to
the soft northern twilight, which in summer lasts until the glow of
the returning sun is seen in the east, the sea and mountains assumed a
soft, mysterious beauty never realized by dwellers in more southern
climes. The hours of twilight were so enchanting, the varying shades
and changing tints on the mighty snow-fields robing the mountains were
so exquisite in their gradations that, even when weary with many hours
of toil, the explorer could not resist the charm, and paced the sandy
shore until the night was far spent. Sometimes in the twilight hours,
long after the sun disappeared, the summits of the majestic peaks
toward the east were transformed by the light of the after-glow into
mountains of flame. As the light faded, the cold shadow of the world
crept higher and higher up the crystal slopes until only the topmost
spires and pinnacles were gilded by the sunset glow. At such times,
when our eyes were weary with watching the gorgeous transformation of
the snow-covered mountains and were turned to the far-reaching seaward
view, we would be startled by the sight of a vast city, with
battlements, towers, minarets, and domes of fantastic architecture,
rising where we knew that only the berg-covered waters extended. The
appearance of these phantom cities was a common occurrence during the
twilight hours. Although we knew at once that the ghostly spires were
but a trick of the mirage, yet their ever-changing shapes and
remarkable mimicry of human habitations were so striking that they
never lost their novelty; and they were never the same on two
successive evenings. One of the most common deceptions of the mirage
is the transformation of icebergs into the semblance of fountains
gushing from the sea and expanding into graceful, sheaf-like shapes.
The strangest freaks due to the refraction of light on hot deserts,
which are usually supposed to be the home of the mirage, do not excite
the traveler's wonder so much as the phantom cities seen in the
uncertain twilight amid the ice-packs of the north.
When the slowly deepening twilight transformed mountains and seas into
a dreamland picture, the harvest moon, strangely out of place in far
northern skies, spread a sheet of silver behind the dark headlands
toward the southeast, and then slowly appeared, not rising boldly
toward the zenith, but tracing a low {88} arch in the southern
heavens, to soon disappear into the sea toward the southwest. Brief as
were her visits, they were always welcome and always brought the
feeling that distant homes were nearer when the same light was visible
to us and to loved ones far away. The soft moonlight dimmed the
twilight, the after-glow faded from the highest peaks, and the short
northern night came on.
After returning from the mountains, late in September, we were again
encamped on the northwestern shore of Yakutat bay. A heavy northeast
storm swept down from the mountains and awakened all the pent-up fury
of the waves. The beach was crowded with bergs, among which the surf
broke in great sheets of feathery foam; clouds of spray were dashed
far above the icy ramparts, carrying with them fragments of ice torn
from the bergs over which they swept; while the stranded bergs rocked
violently to and fro as the waves burst over them. Sometimes the
raging waters, angered by opposition, lifted the bergs in their mighty
arms and, turning them over and over, dashed them high on the beach.
It seemed as if spirits of the deep, unable to leave the water-world,
were hurling their weapons at unseen enemies on the land. The fearful
grandeur of the raging waters and of the dark storm-swept skies was,
perhaps, enhanced by the fact that the landward-blowing gale, combined
with a rising tide, threatened to sweep away our frail home. Each
succeeding wave, as it rolled shoreward, sent a sheet of foam roaring
and rushing up the beach and creeping nearer and nearer to our shelter
until only a few inches intervened between the highwater line and the
crest of the sand bank that protected us. The limit was reached at
last, however, and the water slowly retreated, leaving a fringe of ice
within arm's length of our tents.
The wild scene along the shore was especially grand at night. The
stranded bergs, seen through the gloom, formed strange moving shapes,
like vessels in distress. The white banners of spray seemed signals of
disaster. An Armada, more numerous than ever sailed from the ports of
Spain, was being crushed and ground to pieces by the hoarse wind and
raging surf. Sleep was impossible, even if one cared to rest when sea
and air and sky were joined in fierce conflict. Our tents, spared by
the waves, were dashed down by the fierce north winds, and a lake in
the forest toward the west overflowed its banks and discharged its
flooding waters through our encampment. At last, tired and {89}
discomforted, we abandoned our tents and retreated to the neighboring
forest and there took refuge in a cabin built near where a coal seam
outcrops, and remained until the storm had spent its force. But I have
anticipated, and must return to the thread of my narrative.
FIRST DAY'S TRAMP.
The impressions received during the first day spent on shore in a new
country are always long remembered. Of several "first days" in my own
calendar, there are none that exceed in interest my first excursions
through the forest and over the hills west of Yakutat bay.
Every one about camp having plenty of work to occupy him through the
day, I started out early on the morning of July 2, with only "Bud" and
"Tweed" for companions. My objects were to reconnoiter the country to
the westward, to learn what I could concerning its geology and
glaciers, and to choose a line of march toward Mount St. Elias.
To the north of our camp, and about a mile distant, rose a densely
wooded hill about 300 feet high, with a curving outline, convex
southward. This hill had excited my curiosity on first catching sight
of the shore, and I decided to make it my first study. Its position at
the mouth of a steep gorge in the hills beyond, down which a small
glacier flowed, suggested that it might be an ancient moraine,
deposited at a time when the ice-stream advanced farther than at
present. My surprise therefore was great when, after forcing my way
through the dense thickets, I reached the top of the hill, and found a
large kettle-shaped depression, the sides of which were solid walls of
ice fifty feet high. This showed at once that the supposed hill was
really the extremity of a glacier, long dead and deeply buried beneath
forest-covered débris. In the bottom of the kettle-like depression lay
a pond of muddy water, and, as the ice-cliffs about the lakelet melted
in the warm sunlight, miniature avalanches of ice and stones, mingled
with sticks and bushes that had been undermined, frequently rattled
down its sides and splashed into the waters below. Further examination
revealed the fact that scores of such kettles are scattered over the
surface of the buried glacier. This ice-stream is that designated the
_Galiano glacier_ on the accompanying map.
Continuing on my way toward the mouth of the gorge in the {90}
mountains above, I forced my way for nearly a mile through dense
thickets, frequently making wide detours to avoid the kettle holes. At
length the vegetation became less dense, and gave place to broad open
fields of rocks and dirt, covering the glacier from side to side. This
débris was clearly of the nature of a moraine, as the ice could be
seen beneath it in numerous crevasses; but no division into marginal
or medial moraines could be distinguished. It is really a thin,
irregular sheet of comminuted rock, together with angular masses of
sandstone and shale, the largest of which are ten or fifteen feet in
diameter. When seen from a little distance the débris completely
conceals the ice and forms a barren, rugged surface, the picture of
desolation.
After traversing this naked area the clear ice in the center of the
gorge was reached. All about were wild cliffs, stretching up toward
the snow-covered peaks above; several cataracts of ice, formed by
tributary glaciers descending through rugged, highly inclined
channels, were in sight; while the snow-fields far above gleamed
brilliantly in the sunlight, and now and then sent down small
avalanches to awaken the echoes of the cliffs and fill the still air
with a Babel of tongues.
Pushing on toward the western border of the glacier, across the barren
field of stones, I came at length to the brink of a precipice of dirty
ice more than a hundred feet high, at the foot of which flowed a swift
stream of turbid water. A few hundred yards below, this stream
suddenly disappeared beneath an archway formed by the end of a glacial
tunnel, and its further course was lost to view. It was a strange
sight to see a swift, foaming river burst from beneath overhanging
ice-cliffs, roar along over a bowlder-covered bed, and then plunge
into the mouth of a cavern, leaving no trace of its lower course
except a dull, heavy rumbling far down below the icy surface. A still
grander example of these glacial streams, observed a few days later,
is described on another page.
The bank of the gulf opposite the point at which I first reached it is
formed by a steep mountain-side supporting a dense growth of
vegetation. Here and there, however, streams of water plunge down the
slope, making a chain of foaming cascades, and opening the way through
the vegetation. It seemed practicable to traverse one of these stream
beds without great difficulty, and thus to reach the plateau which I
knew, from a more distant view, to exist above.
{91} Crossing the glacial river above the upper archway, I reached the
mountain side and began to ascend. The task was far more difficult
than anticipated. The bushes, principally of alder and currant, grew
dense and extended their branches down the steep slope in such a
manner that at times it was utterly impossible to force a way through
them. Much of the way I crawled on hands and knees up the steep
watercourse beneath the dense tangle of vegetation overhanging from
either bank and interlacing in the center. On nearing the top I was so
fortunate as to strike a bear trail, along which the animal had forced
his way through the bushes, making an opening like a tunnel. Through
this I ascended to the top of the slope, coming out in a wild
amphitheatre in the side of the mountain. The bottom of the
amphitheatre was exceedingly rough, owing to confused moraine-heaps,
and held a number of small lakes. On account of its elevation, it was
not densely covered with bushes, and no trees were in sight except
along its southern margin. About its northern border ran a broad
terrace, marking the height of the great glacier which formerly
occupied the site of Yakutat bay. The terrace formed a convenient
pathway leading westward to a sharp ridge running out from the
mountains and connecting with an outstanding butte, which promised to
afford an unobstructed view to the westward.
Pressing on, I found that the terrace on which I was traveling at
length became a free ridge, some three hundred feet high, with steep
slopes on either side, like a huge railroad embankment. This ridge
swept across the valley in a graceful curve, and shut off a portion of
the western part of the amphitheatre from the general drainage. In the
portion thus isolated there was a lake without an outlet, still
frozen. The snow banks bordering the frozen lake were traced in every
direction by the trails of bears. Continuing my tramp, I crossed broad
snow-fields, climbed the ridge to the westward, and obtained a
far-reaching, unobstructed view of the surrounding country. The
elevation reached was only about 1,500 feet above sea-level, but was
above the timber line. The mountain slopes toward the north were bare
of vegetation and generally covered with snow.
The first object to claim attention was the huge pyramid forming the
summit of Mount St. Elias, which stood out clear and sharp against the
northwestern sky. Although thirty-six miles distant, it dominated all
other peaks in view and rose far above {92} the rugged crests of
nearer ranges, many of which would have been counted magnificent
mountains in a less rugged land. This was the first view of the great
peak obtained by any of our party. Not a cloud obscured the defination
of the mountain; and the wonderful transparency of the atmosphere,
after so many days of mist and rain, was something seldom if ever
equalled in less humid lands.
Much nearer than St. Elias, and a little west of north of my station,
rose Mount Cook, one of the most beautiful peaks in the region. Its
summit, unlike the isolated pyramid in which St. Elias terminates, is
formed of three white domes, with here and there subordinate pinnacles
of pure white, shooting up from the snow-fields like great crystals.
On the southern side of Mount Cook there are several rugged and
angular ridges, which sweep away for many miles and project like
headlands into the sea of ice, known as the Malaspina glacier,
bordering the ocean toward the southwest. Between the main ridges
there are huge trunk glaciers, each contributing its flood of ice to
the great glacier below; and each secondary valley and each
amphitheatre among the peaks, no matter how small, has its individual
glacier, and the majority of these are tributary to the larger
ice-streams. All the mountains in sight exceeding 2,000 feet in
elevation were white with snow, except the sharpest ridges and boldest
precipices. The attention of the geologist is attracted by the fact
that all the foot-hills of Mount Cook are composed of gray sandstone
and black shale; and he also observes that the angular mountain crest
so sharply drawn against the sky furnishes abundant evidence that the
mountains were never subjected to the abrasion of a continuous
ice-sheet.
As I stood on the steep-sloped ridge, the Atrevida and Lucia glaciers,
their surfaces covered from side to side with angular masses of
sandstone and shale, lay at my feet; while farther up the valley the
débris on the surface of the ice disappeared, and all above was a
winter landscape. The brown, desolate débris-fields on the glacier at
my feet extended far southward, and covered the expanded ice-foot in
which the glacier terminates. Most curious of all was the fact that
the moraines on the lower border of the glacier were concealed from
view by a dense covering of vegetation, and in places were clothed
with forests of spruce trees.
To the southward, beyond the end of the Lucia glacier, and separated
from it by a torrent-swept bowlder-bed, lay a vast {93} plateau of ice
which stretched toward the south and west farther than the eye could
reach. This is the Malaspina glacier, shown on plate 8. Its borders,
like the expanded extremity of the Lucia glacier, are covered with
débris, on the outer margins of which dense vegetation has taken root.
All the central portion of the ice-sheet is clear of moraines, and
shone in the sunlight like a vast snow-field. The heights formerly
reached by the nearer glaciers were plainly marked along the mountain
sides by well-defined terraces, sloping with the present drainage.
When the Lucia glacier was at its flood the ridge on which I stood was
only 200 or 300 feet above its surface; now it approaches 1,000 feet.
Turning toward the southeast, I could look down upon the waters of
Yakutat bay, with its thousands of floating icebergs, and could
distinguish the white breakers as they rolled in on Ocean cape. Beyond
Yakutat stretches a forest-covered plateau between the mountains and
the sea, and the eye could range far over the mountains bordering this
plateau on the northeast. In the distance, fully a hundred miles away,
stood Mount Fairweather, its position rendered conspicuous by a bank
of shining clouds floating serenely above its cold summit.
The mountains directly east of Yakutat bay rise to a general height of
about 8,000 feet, but are without especially prominent peaks. In a
general way they form a rugged plateau, which has been dissected in
various channels to depth of 2,000 or 3,000 feet. Nearly all of the
plateau, including mountains and valleys, is covered with snow-fields
and glaciers; but none of the ice-streams, so far as can be seen from
a distance, descend below an elevation of about 4,000 or 5,000 feet.
This region is as yet untraversed; and when the explorer enters it, it
is quite possible that deep drainage lines will be found through which
glaciers may descend nearly or quite to sea-level.
After drinking in the effect of the magnificent landscape and
endeavoring to impress every detail in the rugged topography upon my
memory, and having finished writing my notes, it was time to return;
for the sun was already declining toward the west. Wishing to see more
of the wonderful land about me, I concluded to descend the western
slope of the ridge upon which I stood, and to return to camp by
following a stream which issues from the Atrevida glacier directly
below my station and empties into Yakutat bay a mile or two south of
our third camp.
{94} The quickest and easiest way down was to slide on the snow. Using
my alpenstock as a brake, I descended swiftly several hundred feet
without difficulty, the dogs bounding along beside me, when on looking
up I was startled to see two huge brown bears on the same snow
surface, a little to the left and not more than a hundred and fifty
yards away. Had my slide been continued a few seconds more I should
have been in exceedingly unwelcome company. I was unarmed, and
entirely unprepared for a fight with two of the most savage animals
found in this country. The bears had long yellowish-brown hair, and
were of the size and character of the "grizzly," with which they are
thought by hunters, if not by naturalists, to be specifically
identical. They were not at all disturbed by my presence, and in spite
of my shouts, which I thought would make them travel off, one of them
came leisurely toward me. His strides over the snow revealed a
strength and activity commanding admiration despite the decidedly
uncomfortable feeling awakened by his proximity and evident curiosity.
Later in the season I measured the tracks of an animal of the same
species, made while walking over a soft, level surface, and found each
impression to measure 9 by 17 inches, and the stride to reach 64
inches. So far as I have been able to learn, this is the largest bear
track that has been reported. Realizing my danger, I continued my snow
slide, but in a different direction and with accelerated speed. The
upper limit of the dense thicket clothing the slope of the mountain
was soon reached, and my unwelcome companions were lost to sight.
Following the bed of a torrent fed by the snow-fields above, I soon
came to the creek chosen for my route back to camp; the waters, brown
and turbid with sediment, welled out of a cavern at the foot of an ice
precipice 200 feet high, and formed a roaring stream too deep and too
swift for fording. The roaring of the brown waters and the startling
noises made by stones rattling down the ice-cliff, together with the
dark shadows of the deep gorge, walled in by a steep mountain slope on
one side and a glacier on the other, made the route seem uncanny. On
the sands filling the spaces between the bowlders there were many
fresh bear tracks, which at least suggested that the belated traveler
should be careful in his movements.
This locality was afterward occupied as a camping place, and is shown
in the picture forming plate 10. The dark-colored ice, {95} mixed with
stones and earth, might easily be mistaken for stratified rock; but
the dirt discoloring the ice is almost entirely superficial. The crest
of the cliff is formed of débris, and is the edge of the sheet of
stones and earth covering the general surface of the glacier. Owing to
the constant melting, stones and bowlders are continually loosened to
rattle down the steep slope and plunge into the water beneath.
I followed down the bank of the stream, by springing from bowlder to
bowlder, for about a mile, and then came to a steep bluff, the western
side of which was swept by the roaring flood. The banks above were
clothed with spruce trees and dense underbrush; but, there being no
alternative, I entered the forest and slowly worked my way in the
direction of camp. To traverse the unbroken forests of southern Alaska
is always difficult, even when one is fresh; and, weary as I was with
many hours of laborious climbing, my progress was slow indeed. One of
the principal obstacles encountered in threading these Arctic jungles
is the plant known as the "Devil's club" (_Panax horridum_), which
grows to a height of ten or fifteen feet, and has broad, palmate
leaves that are especially conspicuous in autumn, owing to their
bright yellow color. The stems of this plant run on the earth for
several feet and then curve upward. Every portion of its surface, even
to the ribs of the leaves, is thickly set with spines, which inflict
painful wounds, and, breaking off in the flesh, cause festering sores.
In forcing a way through the brush one frequently treads on the
prostrate portion of these thorny plants, and not infrequently is made
aware of the fact by a blow on the head or in the face from the
over-arching stems.
I struggled on through the tangled vegetation until the sun went down
and the woods became dark and somber. Thick moss, into which the foot
sank as in a bed of sponge, covered the ground everywhere to the depth
of two or three feet; each fallen trunk was a rounded mound of green
and brown, decked with graceful equiseta and ferns, or brilliant with
flowers, but most treacherous and annoying to the belated traveler. In
the gloom of the dim-lit woods, the trees, bearded with moss, assumed
strange, fantastic shapes, which every unfamiliar sound seemed to
start into life; while the numerous trails made by the bears in
forcing their way through the thick tangle were positive evidence that
not all the inhabitants of the forest were creatures of the
imagination. My faithful companions, "Bud" and {96} "Tweed" showed
signs of weariness, and offered no objection when I started a fire and
expressed my intention of spending the night beneath the
wide-spreading branches of a moss-covered evergreen. Having a few
pieces of bread in my pocket, I shared them with the dogs, and
stretching myself on a luxuriant bank of lichens tried to sleep, only
to find the mosquitoes so energetic that there was no hope of passing
the night in comfort.
After resting I felt refreshed, and concluded to press on through the
gathering darkness, and after another hour of hard work I came out of
the forest and upon a field of torrent-swept bowlders, deposited by
the stream which I had left farther up. I was surprised to find that
the twilight was not so far spent as I had fancied. The way ahead
being free of vegetation, I hastened on, and after traveling about two
miles was rejoiced by the sight of a camp-fire blazing in the
distance. The warm fire and a hearty supper soon made me forget the
fatigues of the day.
This, my first day's exploration, must stand as an example of many
similar days spent on the hills and in the forests northwest of
Yakutat bay, of which it is not necessary to give detailed
descriptions.
CANOE TRIP IN DISENCHANTMENT BAY.
On July 3, I continued my examination of the region about the head of
Yakutat bay by making a canoe trip up Disenchantment bay to Haenke
island. With the assistance of Christie and Crumback, our canoe was
launched through the surf without difficulty, and we slowly worked our
way through the fields of floating ice which covered all the upper
portion of the inlet. The men plied the oars with which the canoe was
fortunately provided, while I directed its course with a paddle. A
heavy swell rolling in from the ocean rendered the task of choosing a
route through the grinding ice-pack somewhat difficult. After four or
five hours of hard work, during which time several vain attempts were
made to traverse leads in the ice which had only one opening, we
succeeded in reaching the southern end of the island.
The shores of Haenke island are steep and rocky, and, so far as I am
aware, afford only one cove in which a boat can take refuge. This is
at the extreme southern point, and is not visible until its entrance
is reached. A break or fissure in the rocks there admits of the
accumulation of stone and sand, and this {97} has been extended by the
action of the waves and tides until a beach a hundred feet in length
has been deposited. The dashing of the bowlders and sand against the
cliffs at the head of the cove by the incoming waves has increased its
extension in that direction so as to form a well-sheltered refuge. The
absence of beaches on other portions of the island is due to the fact
that its bordering precipices descend abruptly into deep water, and do
not admit of the accumulation of débris about their bases. Without
stones and sand with which the waves can work, the excavation of
terraces is an exceedingly slow operation. The precipitous nature of
the borders of the island is due, to some extent at least, to the
abrasion of the rocks by the glacial ice which once encircled it.
Pulling our canoe far up on the beach, we began the ascent of the
cliffs. Hundreds of sea birds, startled from their nests by our
intrusion, circled fearlessly about our heads and filled the air with
their wild cries. The more exposed portions of the slopes were bare of
vegetation, but in the shelter of every depression dense thickets
obstructed the way. Many of the little basins between the rounded
knolls hold tarns of fresh water, and were occupied at the time of our
visit by flocks of gray geese. It is evident that the island was
intensely glaciated at no distant day. The surfaces of its rounded
domes are so smoothly polished that they glitter like mirrors in the
sunlight. On the polished surfaces there are deep grooves and fine,
hair-like lines, made by the stones set in the bottom of the glacier
which once flowed over the island and removed all of the rocks that
were not firm and hard. On many of the domes of sandstone there rest
bowlders of a different character, which have evidently been brought
from the mountains toward the northeast.
The summit of the island is about 800 feet above the level of the sea,
and, like its sides, is polished and striated. The terraces on the
mountains of the mainland show that the glacier which formerly flowed
out from Disenchantment bay must have been fully 2,000 feet deep. The
bed it occupied toward the south is now flooded by the waters of
Yakutat bay.
At the time of Malaspina's visit, 100 years ago, the glaciers from the
north reached Haenke island, and surrounded it on three sides.[27] At
the rate of retreat indicated by comparing {98} Malaspina's records
with the present condition, the glaciers must have reached Point
Esperanza, at the mouth of Disenchantment bay, about 200 years ago;
and an allowance of between 500 and 1,000 years would seem ample for
the retreat of the glaciers since they were at their flood.
[Footnote 27: The map accompanying Malaspina's report and indicating
these conditions has already been mentioned, and is reproduced on
plate 7, page 67.]
Reaching the topmost dome of Haenke island, a wonderful panorama of
snow-covered mountains, glaciers, and icebergs lay before us. The
island occupies the position of the stage in a vast amphitheatre; the
spectators are hoary mountain peaks, each a monarch robed in ermine
and bidding defiance to the ceaseless war of the elements. How
insignificant the wanderer who confronts such an audience, and how
weak his efforts to describe such a scene!
From a wild cliff-enclosed valley toward the north, guarded by
towering pinnacles and massive cliffs, flows a great glacier, the
fountains of which are far back in the heart of the mountains beyond
the reach of vision. Having vainly sought an Indian name for this
ice-stream, I concluded to christen it the _Dalton glacier_, in honor
of John Dalton, a miner and frontiersman now living at Yakutat, who is
justly considered the pioneer explorer of the region. The glacier is
greatly shattered and pinnacled in descending its steep channel, and
on reaching the sea it expands into a broad ice-foot. The last steep
descent is made just before gaining the water, and is marked by
crevasses and pinnacles of magnificent proportion and beautiful color.
This is one of the few glaciers in the St. Elias region that has
well-defined medial and lateral moraines. At the bases of the cliffs
on the western side there is a broad, lateral moraine, and in the
center, looking like a winding road leading up the glacier, runs a
triple-banded ribbon of débris, forming a typical medial moraine. The
morainal material carried by the glacier is at last deposited at its
foot, or floated away by icebergs, and scattered far and wide over the
bottom of Yakutat bay.
The glacier expands on entering the water, as is the habit of all
glaciers when unconfined, and ends in magnificent ice-cliffs some two
miles in length. The water dashing against the bases of the cliffs
dissolves them away, and the tides tend to raise and lower the
expanded ice-foot. The result is that huge masses, sometimes reaching
from summit to base of the cliffs, are undermined, and topple over
into the sea with a tremendous crash. Owing to the distance of the
glacier from Haenke island, we could {99} see the fall long before the
roar reached our ears; the cliffs separated, and huge masses seemed to
sink without a sound; the spray thrown up as the blue pinnacles
disappeared ascended like gleaming rockets, sometimes as high as the
tops of the cliffs, and then fell back in silent cataracts of foam.
Then a noise as of a cannonade came rolling across the waters and
echoing from cliff to cliff. The roar of the glacier continues all day
when the air is warm and the sun bright, and is most active when the
summer days are finest. Sometimes, roar succeeded roar, like artillery
fire, and the salutes were answered, gun for gun, by the great Hubbard
glacier, which pours its flood of ice into the fjord a few miles
further northeastward. This ice-stream, most magnificent of the
tide-water glaciers of Alaska yet discovered, and a towering mountain
peak from which the glacier receives a large part of its drainage,
were named in honor of Gardiner G. Hubbard, president of the National
Geographic Society.
[Illustration: PLATE 9. HUBBARD GLACIER.]
Looking across the waters of the bay, whitened by thousands of
floating bergs, we could see three miles of the ice-cliffs formed
where the Hubbard glacier enters the sea. A dark headland on the shore
of the mainland to the right shut off the full view of the glacier but
formed a strongly drawn foreground, which enhanced the picturesque
effect of the scenery. The Hubbard glacier flows majestically through
a deep valley leading back into the mountains, and has two main
branches, with a smaller and steeper tributary between. These branches
unite to form a single ice-foot extending into the bay. The western
branch has a dark medial moraine down its center, which makes a bold,
sweeping curve before joining the main stream. There is also a broad
lateral débris-belt along the bases of the cliffs forming its right
bank. The whole surface of the united glacier, and all of the white
tongues running back into the mountains beyond the reach of vision,
are broken and shattered, owing to the steepness and roughness of the
bed over which they flow. The surface, where not concealed by morainal
material, is snow-white; but in the multitude of crevasses the blue
ice is exposed, and gives a greenish-blue tint to the entire stream.
Where the subglacial slopes are steep, the ice is broken into
pinnacles and towers of the grandest description.
On the steep mountain sides sloping toward the Hubbard glacier there
are more than a dozen secondary ice-streams which are tributary to it.
The amphitheatres in which the glacier has {100} its beginnings have
never been seen; but our general knowledge of the fountains from which
glaciers flow assures us that not only scores but hundreds of other
secondary and tertiary glaciers far back into the mountains contribute
their floods to the same great stream.
After being received on board the _Corwin_, late in September, we had
an opportunity to view the great sea-cliffs of the Hubbard glacier
near at hand. Captain Hooper, attracted by the magnificent scenery,
took his vessel up Disenchantment bay to a point beyond Haenke island,
whence a view could be had of the eastern extension of the inlet. So
far as is known, the _Corwin_ was the first vessel to navigate those
waters. Soundings made between the island and the ice-foot gave forty
to sixty fathoms. At the elbow, where the southeastern shore of the
bay turns abruptly eastward, there is a low islet not represented on
any map previous to the one made by the recent expedition, which
commands even a wider prospect than can be obtained from Haenke
island. Future visitors to this remote coast should endeavor to reach
this islet, after having beheld the grand panorama obtainable from the
summit of Haenke island. The portion of Disenchantment bay stretching
eastward from the foot of Hubbard glacier is enclosed on all sides by
bold mountains, the lower slopes of which have the subdued and flowing
outlines characteristic of glaciated regions. Several glaciers occur
in the high-grade lateral valleys opening from the bay; but these have
recently retreated, and none of them have sufficient volume at present
to reach the water. The general recession, in which all the glaciers
of Alaska are participating, is manifested here by the broad débris
fields, which cover all the lower ice-streams not ending in the sea.
The absence of vegetation on the smooth rocks recently abandoned by
the ice also tells of recent climatic changes.
A débris-covered glacier, so completely concealed by continuous sheets
of stones and earth that its true character can scarcely be
recognized, descends from the mountains just east of Hubbard glacier.
It is formed by the union of two principal tributaries, and, on
reaching comparatively level ground, expands into a broad ice-foot,
but does not have sufficient volume to reach the sea. Another glacier,
of smaller size but of the same general character, lies between the
Hubbard and Dalton glaciers.
In a rugged defile in the mountains just west of Haenke island there
is another small dirt-covered glacier, which creeps down from the
precipices above and reaches within a mile of the water. {101} At its
end there is a cliff of black, dirty ice, scarcely to be distinguished
from rock at a little distance, from the base of which flows a turbid
stream. This glacier is covered so completely with earth and stones
that not a vestige of the ice can be seen unless we actually traverse
its surface. Its appearance suggests the name of _Black glacier_, by
which it is designated on the accompanying map.
The visitor to Haenke island has examples of at least two well-marked
types of glaciers in view: The small débris-covered ice-streams, too
small to reach the water, are typical of a large class of glaciers in
southern Alaska, which are slowly wasting away and have become buried
beneath débris concentrated at the surface by reason of their own
melting. The Galiano glacier is a good example of this class. The
Hubbard and Dalton glaciers are fine examples of another class of
ice-streams which flow into the sea and end in ice-cliffs, and which
for convenience we call _tide-water glaciers_. Nowhere can finer or
more beautiful examples of this type be found than those in view from
Haenke island.
The formation of icebergs from the undermining and breaking down of
the ice-cliffs of the tide-water glaciers has already been mentioned.
But there is another method by which bergs are formed--a process even
more remarkable than the avalanches that occur when portions of the
ice-cliffs topple over into the sea. The ice-cliffs at the foot of the
tide-water glaciers are really sea-cliffs formed by the waves cutting
back a terrace in the ice. The submerged terrace is composed of ice,
and may extend out a thousand feet or more in front of the visible
part of the ice-cliffs. These conditions are represented in the
accompanying diagram (figure 1), which exhibits a longitudinal section
of the lower end of a tide-water glacier where it pushes out into the
sea.
[Illustration: FIGURE 1--_Diagram illustrating the Formation of
Icebergs_.]
As the sea-cliff of ice recedes and the submerged terrace increases in
breadth there comes a time when the buoyancy of the {102} ice at the
bottom exceeds its strength, and pieces break off and rise to the
surface. The water about the ends of the glaciers is so intensely
muddy that the submerged ice-foot is hidden from view, and its
presence would not be suspected were it not for the fragments
occasionally rising from it. The sudden appearance of these masses of
bottom ice at the surface is always startling. While watching the
ice-cliffs and admiring the play of colors in the deep crevasses which
penetrate them in every direction, or tracing in fancy the strange
history of the silent river and wondering in what age the snows fell
on the mountains, which are now returning to their parent, the sea,
one is frequently awakened by a commotion in the waters below, perhaps
several hundred feet in front of the ice-cliffs. At first it seems as
if some huge sea-monster had risen from the deep and was lashing the
waters into foam; but soon the waters part, and a blue island rises to
the surface, carrying hundreds of tons of water, which flows down its
sides in cataracts of foam. Some of the bergs turn completely over on
emerging, and thus add to the tumult and confusion that attends their
birth. The waves roll away in widening circles, to break in surf on
the adjacent shores, and an island of ice of the most lovely blue
floats serenely away to join the thousands of similar islands that
have preceded it. The fragments of the glacier rising from the bottom
in this manner are usually larger than those broken from the faces of
the ice-cliffs, sometimes measuring 200 or 300 feet in diameter. Their
size and the suddenness with which they rise would insure certain
destruction of a vessel venturing too near the treacherous ice-walls.
At the time of our visit to Haenke island, the entire surface of
Disenchantment bay and all of Yakutat bay as far southward as we could
see formed one vast field of floating ice. Most of the bergs were
small, but here and there rose masses which measured 150 by 200 feet
on their sides and stood 40 or 50 feet out of the water. The bergs are
divided, in reference to color, into three classes--the white, the
blue, and the black. The white ones are those that have fallen from
the face of the ice-walls or those that have been sufficiently exposed
to the atmosphere to become melted at the surface and filled with air
cavities. The blue bergs are of many shades and tints, finding their
nearest match in color in Antwerp blue. These are the ones that have
recently risen from the submerged ice-foot, or have turned over owing
to a change of position in the center of gravity. Rapid as is the
{103} melting of the ice when exposed to the air, it seems to liquefy
even more quickly when submerged. The changes thus produced finally
cause the bergs to reverse their positions in the water. This is done
without the slightest warning, and is one of the greatest dangers to
be guarded against while canoeing among them. The white color
presented by the majority of the bergs is changed to blue when they
become stranded, and the surf breaks over them and dissolves away
their porous surfaces. A few of the bergs are black in color, owing to
the dirt and stones that they carry on their surfaces or frozen in
their mass. Quantities of débris are thus floated away from the
tide-water glaciers and strewn over the bottoms of the adjacent
inlets.
This digression may be wearisome, but one cannot stand on Haenke
island without wishing to know all the secrets of the great
ice-streams that flow silently before him.
Returning from our commanding station at the summit of the island to
where we left our canoe, we were surprised and not a little startled
to find that the tide had run out and left the strand between our
canoe and the water completely blocked with huge fragments of ice.
There was no way left for us to launch our canoe except by cutting
away and leveling off the ice with our axe, so as to form a trail over
which we could drag it to the water. This we did, and then, poising
the canoe on a low flat berg, half of which extended beneath the
water, I took my place in it with paddle in hand, while Christie and
Crumback, waiting for the moment when a large wave rolled in, launched
the canoe far out in the surf. By the vigorous use of my paddle I
succeeded in reaching smooth water and brought the canoe close under
the cliff forming the southern side of the cove, where the men were
able to drop in as a wave rolled under us.
We slowly worked our way down the bay through blue lanes in the
ice-pack, against an incoming tide, and reached our tents near sunset.
Thus ended one of the most enjoyable and most instructive days at
Yakutat bay.
FROM YAKUTAT BAY TO BLOSSOM ISLAND.
Our camp on the shore of Yakutat bay was held for several days after
returning from Haenke island, but in the meantime an advance-camp was
established on the side of the Lucia glacier, from which Mr. Kerr and
myself made explorations ahead.
{104} Before leaving the base-camp I visited Black glacier for the
purpose of taking photographs and studying the appearance of an old
glacier far spent and fast passing away. This, like the Galiano
glacier, is a good example of a great number of ice-streams in the
same region which are covered from side to side with débris. The cañon
walls on either side rise precipitously, and their lower slopes, for
the height of 200 or 300 feet, are bare of vegetation. The surface of
the glacier has evidently sunken to this extent within a period too
short to allow of the accumulation of soil and the rooting of plants
on the slopes. The banks referred to are in part below the upper limit
of timber growth, and the adjacent surfaces are covered with bushes,
grasses, and flowers. Under the climatic conditions there prevailing,
it is evident that the formation of soil and the spreading of plants
over areas abandoned by ice is a matter of comparatively few years. It
is for this reason that a very recent retreat of Black glacier is
inferred. Many of the glaciers in southern Alaska give similar
evidence of recent contraction, and it is evident that a climatic
change is in progress which is either decreasing the winter's snow or
increasing the summer's heat. The most sensitive indicators of these
changes, responding even more quickly than does the vegetation, are
the glaciers.
The fourth of July was spent by us in cutting a trail up the steep
mountain slope to the amphitheatre visited during my first tramp. No
one can appreciate the density and luxuriance of the vegetation on the
lower mountain in that region until he has cut a passage through it.
Seven men, working continuously for six or seven hours with axes and
knives, were able to open a comparatively good trail about a mile in
length. The remainder of the way was along stream courses and up
bowlder-washes, which were free from vegetation. In the afternoon,
having finished our task, a half-holiday was spent in an exciting
search for two huge brown bears discovered by one of the party, but
they vanished before the guns could be brought out.
The next day an advance-camp was made in the amphitheatre above timber
line, and there Mr. Kerr and myself passed the night, molested only by
swarms of mosquitoes, and the day following occupied an outstanding
butte as a topographical station. In the afternoon of the same day the
advance-camp was moved to the border of the Atrevida glacier at a
point already described, where a muddy stream gushes out from under
the ice.
{105} Our next advance-camp, established a few days later, was at
Terrace point, as we called the extreme end of the mountain spur
separating the Lucia and Atrevida glaciers. These ice-streams were
formerly much higher than now, and when at their flood formed terraces
along the mountain side, which remain distinctly visible to the
present day. The space between the two glaciers at the southern end of
the mountain spur became filled with bowlders and stones carried down
on the side of the ice-streams, and, as the glaciers contracted, added
a tapering point to the mountain. Between the present surface of the
ice and the highest terrace left at some former time there are many
ridges, sloping down stream, which record minor changes in the
fluctuation of the ice. A portion of one of these terraces is seen to
the left in plate 10.
[Illustration: PLATE 10. WALL OF ICE ON EASTERN SIDE OF THE ATREVIDA
GLACIER.]
Terrace point, like all the lower portions of the mountain spurs
extending southward from the main range, is densely clothed with
vegetation, and during the short summers is a paradise of flowers. Our
tent was pitched on a low terrace just beyond the border of the ice.
The steep bluff rising to an elevation of some 200 feet on the east of
our camp was formed by glacial ice buried beneath an absolutely barren
covering of stones and dirt. On the west the ascent was still more
precipitous, but the slope from base to summit was one mass of
gorgeous flowers.
[Illustration: PLATE 11. VIEW ON THE ATREVIDA GLACIER.]
Kerr and myself made several excursions from the camp at Terrace
point, and explored the country ahead to the next mountain spur for
the purpose of selecting a site for another advance-camp. In the
meantime the men were busy in bringing up supplies.
Our reconnoissance westward took us across the Lucia glacier to the
mouth of a deep, transverse gorge in the next mountain spur. The
congeries of low peaks and knobs south of this pass we named the
_Floral hills_, on account of the luxuriance of the vegetation
covering them; and the saddle separating them from the mountains to
the north was called _Floral pass_.
In crossing the Lucia glacier we experienced the usual difficulties
met with on the débris-covered ice-field of Alaska. The way was
exceedingly rough, on account of the ridges and valleys on the ice,
and on account of the angular condition of the débris resting upon it.
Many of the ridges could not conveniently be climbed, owing to the
uncertain footing afforded by the angular {106} stones resting on the
slippery slope beneath. Fortunately, the crevasses were mostly filled
with stones fallen from the sides, so that the danger from open
fissures, which has usually to be guarded against in glacial
excursions, was obviated; yet, as is usually the case when crevasses
become filled with débris, the melting of the adjacent surfaces had
caused them to stand in relief and form ridges of loose stones, which
were exceedingly troublesome to the traveler.
[Illustration: PLATE 12. ENTRANCE TO AN ICE TUNNEL; FORMERLY THE
OUTLET OF A GLACIAL LAKE.]
Near the western side of the Lucia glacier, between Terrace point and
Floral pass, there is a huge rounded dome of sandstone rising boldly
out of the ice. This corresponds to the "nunataks" of the Greenland
ice-fields, and was covered by ice when the glaciation was more
intense than at present. On the northern side of the island the ice is
forced high up on its flanks, and is deeply covered with moraines; but
on the southwestern side its base is low and skirted by a sand plain
deposited in a valley formerly occupied by a lake. The melting of the
glacier has, in fact, progressed so far that the dome of rock is free
from ice on its southern side, and is connected with the border of the
valley toward the west by the sand plain. This plain is composed of
gravel and sand deposited by streams which at times became dammed
lower down and expanded into a lake. Sunken areas and holes over
portions of the lake bottom show that it rests, in part at least, upon
a bed of ice.
[Illustration: PLATE 13. DELTAS IN AN ABANDONED LAKE BED.]
The most novel and interesting feature in the Lucia glacier is a
glacial river which bursts from beneath a high archway of ice just at
the eastern base of the nunatak mentioned above, and flows for about a
mile and a half through a channel excavated in the ice, to then enter
the mouth of another tunnel and become lost to view. An illustration
of this strange river and of the mouth of the tunnel in the
débris-covered ice into which it rolls, reproduced from a photograph
by a mechanical process, is given on plate 14, and another view of the
mouth of the same tunnel is presented in the succeeding plate. This is
the finest example of a glacial river that it has ever been my good
fortune to examine.
[Illustration: PLATE 14. A RIVER ON THE LUCIA GLACIER.]
The stream is swift, and its waters are brown and heavy with sediment.
Its breadth is about 150 feet. For the greater part of its way, where
open to sunlight, it flows between banks of ice and over an icy floor.
Fragments of its banks, and portions of {107} the sides and roof of
the tunnel from which it emerges, are swept along by the swift
current, or stranded here and there in midstream. The sand plain
already mentioned borders the river for a portion of its course, and
is flooded when the lower tunnel is obstructed.
[Illustration: PLATE 15. ENTRANCE TO A GLACIAL TUNNEL.]
The archway under which the stream disappears is about fifty feet
high, and the tunnel retains its dimensions as far as one can see by
looking in at its mouth. Where the stream emerges is unknown; but the
emergence could no doubt be discovered by examining the border of the
glacier some miles southward. No explorer has yet been bold enough to
enter the tunnel and drift through with the stream, although this
could possibly be done without great danger. The greatest risk in such
an undertaking would be from falling blocks of ice. While I stood near
the mouth of the tunnel there came a roar from the dark cavern within,
reverberating like the explosion of a heavy blast in the chambers of a
mine, that undoubtedly marked the fall of an ice mass from the arched
roof. The course of the stream below the mouth of the tunnel may be
traced for some distance by scarps in the ice above, formed by the
settling of the roof. Some of these may be traced in the
illustrations. When the roof of the tunnel collapses so completely as
to obstruct the passage, a lake is formed above the tunnel, and when
the obstruction is removed the streams draining the glacier are
flooded.
At the mouth of the tunnel there are always confused noises and
rhythmic vibrations to be heard in the dark recesses within. The air
is filled with pulsations like deep organ notes. It takes but little
imagination to transform these strange sounds into the voices and
songs of the mythical inhabitants of the nether regions.
Toward the right of the tunnel, as shown on plate 14, there appears a
portion of the former river bed, now abandoned, owing to the cutting
across of a bend in the stream. The floor of this old channel is
mostly of clear, white ice, and has a peculiar, hummocky appearance,
which indicates the direction of the current that once flowed over it.
A portion of the bed is covered with sand and gravel, and along its
border are gravel terraces resting on ice. These occurrences
illustrate the fact that rivers flowing through channels of ice are
governed by the same general laws as the more familiar surface
streams.
After examining this glacial river, during our first excursion on the
Lucia glacier, we reached its western banks by crossing {108} above
the upper archway. Traversing the sand plain to the westward, we came
to another stream of nearly equal interest, flowing along the western
margin of the glacier, past the end of the deep gorge called Floral
pass. A small creek, flowing down the pass, joins the stream and
skirts the glacier just below the mouth of a wild gorge on the side of
the main valley. This stream once flowed along the border of the Lucia
glacier when it was much higher than now, and began the excavation of
a channel in the rock, which was retained after the surface of the
glacier was lowered by melting. It still flows in a rock-cut channel
for about a mile before descending to the border of the glacier as it
exists at present. The geologist will see at once that this is a
peculiar example of superimposed drainage. The gorge cut by the stream
is a deep narrow trench with rough angular cliffs on either side, and
is a good example of a water-cut cañon. When the Lucia glacier melts
away and leaves the broad-bottomed valley clear of ice, the deep
narrow gorge on its western side, running parallel with its longer
axes, but a thousand feet or more above its bottom, will remain as one
of the evidences of a former ice invasion.
During our reconnoissance we turned back at the margin of the second
river, but a day or two later reached the same point with the camp
hands and camping outfit, and, placing a rope from bank to bank,
effected a crossing. Our next camp was in Floral pass. From there we
occupied a topographical station on the summit of the Floral hills,
and made another reconnoissance ahead, across the _Hayden
glacier_,[28] to the next mountain spur.
[Footnote 28: Named in honor of the late Dr. Ferdinand V. Hayden,
founder of the United States Geological Survey of the Territories.]
Floral pass, like so many of the topographical features examined
during the recent expedition, has a peculiar history. It is a
comparatively low-grade gorge leading directly across the end of an
angular mountain range forming one of the spurs of Mount Cook. The
position of the pass was determined by an east-and-west fault and by
the erosion of soft shales turned up on edge along the line of
displacement. At its head it is shut in by the Hayden glacier, which
flows past it and forms a wall of ice about two hundred feet high. The
water flowing out from beneath the side of the glacier forms a muddy
creek, which finds its way over a bowlder-covered bed in the bottom of
the gorge to the border of Lucia glacier. Along the sides of the gorge
there are {109} many terraces, which record a complicated history.
Evenly stratified clays near its lower end, adjacent to the Lucia
glacier, show that it was at one time occupied in part by a lake.
Above the lacustral beds there are water-worn deposits, indicating
that at a later date the gorge was filled from side to side by
moraines and coarse stream deposits several hundred feet thick. These
were excavated, and portions were left clinging to the hill-sides,
forming the terraces of to-day. Diverse slopes in the terraces suggest
that the drainage may at times have been reversed, according as the
Lucia or the Hayden glacier was the higher.
The routes between our various camps, scattered along between Yakutat
bay and Blossom island, were traversed several times by every member
of the party. To traverse the same trail several times with heavy
loads, and perhaps in rain and mist, is disheartening work which I
will spare the reader the effort of following even in fancy.
From our camp in Floral pass another reconnoissance ahead was made by
Mr. Kerr and myself, as already mentioned. These advances, each one of
which told us something new, were the most interesting portions of our
journey. The little adventures and experiences of each advance were
reported and talked over when we rejoined our companions around the
camp-fire at night, and were received with gratifying interest by the
men.
A view of the Hayden glacier from the Floral hills showed us that it
differed from any of the glaciers previously traversed. Its surface,
where we planned to cross it, was free of débris except along the
margins and also near the center, where we could distinguish a light
medial moraine. Farther southward, near the terminus of the glacier,
its surface from side to side was buried beneath a sheet of stones and
dirt. As in many other instances, the débris on the lower portion of
the glacier has been concentrated at the surface, owing to the melting
of the ice, so as to form a continuous sheet.
Early one morning, while traveling over the torrent-swept bowlders in
the stream-bed on our way up Floral pass, we were a little startled at
seeing the head of a bear just visible through the flowers fringing
the bank. Before a shot could be fired, he vanished, and remained
perfectly quiet among the bushes for several minutes. But a trembling
of the branches at length betrayed his presence, and a few minutes
later he came out in full view, his yellow-brown coat giving him the
appearance of a huge {110} dog. Standing on a rounded mound he looked
inquiringly down the valley, with his shaggy side in full view. I
fired--but missed my aim. The unsuccessful hunter always has an excuse
for his failure; I had never before used the rifle I carried, and the
hair-trigger with which it was provided deceived me. Fortunately for
the bear, and probably still more fortunately for me, the bullet went
far above the mark. The huge beast vanished again, although the
vegetation was not dense, and left us wondering how such a large
animal could disappear so quickly and so completely in such an open
region. On searching for his tracks, we found that he had traversed
for a few rods the plant-covered terrace on which he was first
discovered, and then escaped up a lateral gorge to a broader terrace
above.
Reaching the head of the Floral pass and climbing the hill of débris
bordering the Hayden glacier, we came out upon the clear, white ice of
the central portion of the ice-stream. The ice was greatly crevassed,
but nearly all the gaps in its surface could be crossed by jumping or
else by ice-bridges. The most interesting feature presented by the
glacier was the way in which it yields itself to the inequality of the
rocks over which it flows. Starting on the eastern side, below the
entrance to Floral pass, and extending northwestward diagonally across
the stream, there is a line of steep descent in the rocks beneath,
which causes the ice to be greatly broken. This is not properly an
ice-fall, except near the confining walls of the cañon; but it might
be called an ice-rapid. The ice bends down over the subglacial scarp
with many long breaks, but does not form pinnacles, as in many similar
instances where the descent is greater, and true ice cascades occur.
The most practicable way for crossing the glacier was to ascend the
stream above the line of rapids for some distance, and then follow
diagonally down its center, finally veering westward to the opposite
bank. By following this course, and making a double curve like the
letter S, we could cross the steep descent in the center, where it was
least crevassed.
The marginal moraines on the Hayden glacier are formed of fragments of
brown and gray sandstone and black shale of all sizes and shapes. It
is clear that this débris was gathered by the cliffs bordering the
glacier on either side. The medial moraine which first appears at the
surface just above the rapids is of a different character, and tells
that the higher peaks of Mount Cook are composed, in part at least, of
a different material from {111} the spurs projecting from it. The
medial moraine looks black from a distance, but, on traversing it, it
was found to be composed mainly of dark-green gabbro and serpentine.
The débris is scattered over the surface in a belt several rods wide;
but it is not deep, as the ice can almost everywhere be seen between
the stones. Where the fragments of rock are most widely separated,
there are fine illustrations of the manner in which small, dark stones
absorb the heat of the sun and melt the ice beneath more rapidly than
the surrounding surface, sinking into the ice so as to form little
wells, several inches deep, filled with clear water. Larger stones,
which are not warmed through during a day's sunshine, protect the ice
beneath while the adjacent surface is melted, and consequently become
elevated on pillars or pedestals of ice. The stones thus elevated are
frequently large, and form tables which are nearly always inclined
southward. In other instances the ice over large areas, especially
along the center of the medial moraine, was covered with cones of
fine, angular fragments from a few inches to three or four feet in
height. These were not really piles of gravel, as they seemed, but
consisted of cones of ice, sheeted over with thin layers of small
stones. The secret of their formation, long since discovered on the
glaciers of Switzerland, is that the gravel is first concentrated in a
hole in the ice and, as the general surface melts away, acts like a
large stone and protects the ice beneath. It is raised on a pedestal,
but the gravel at the borders continually rolls down the sides and a
conical form is the result.
Where we crossed the Hayden glacier it is only about a mile broad in a
direct line; but to traverse it by the circuitous route rendered
necessary by the character of its surface required about three hours
of hard tramping, even when unincumbered with packs. From the center
of the glacier a magnificent view may be obtained of the snow-covered
domes of Mount Cook, from which rugged mountain ridges stretch
southward like great arms and enclose the white snow-field from which
the glacier flows. At an elevation of 2,500 feet the icy portion
disappears beneath the névé on which not a trace of débris is visible.
All the higher portions of the mountains are white as snow can make
them, except where the pinnacles and precipices are too steep to
retain a covering.
On reaching the western side of the glacier we found a bare space on
the bordering cliffs, about a hundred feet high, which {112} has been
abandoned by the ice so recently that it is not yet grassed over.
Above this came the luxuriant and beautiful vegetation covering all
the lower mountain slopes.
The mountain spur just west of the glacier, like several of the ridges
stretching southward from the higher mountains, ends in a group of
hills somewhat separate from the main ridge. The hills are covered
with a rank vegetation, and in places support a dense growth of spruce
trees. Reaching the grassy summit, we had a fine, far-reaching view of
the unexplored region toward the west, and of the vast plateau of ice
stretching southward beyond the reach of the vision. West of our
station, another great ice-stream, named the _Marvine glacier_, in
honor of the late A. R. Marvine, flows southward with a breadth
exceeding that of any of the icy streams yet crossed. Beyond the
Marvine glacier, and forming its western border, there is an
exceedingly rugged mountain range trending northeast and southwest.
Although this is, topographically, a portion of the mountain mass
forming Mount Cook, its prominence and its peculiar geological
structure render it important that it should have an independent name.
In acknowledgment of the services to science rendered by the first
state geologist of Massachusetts, it is designated the _Hitchcock
range_ on our maps. Rising above the angular crest line of this
mountain mass towers the pyramidal summit of Mount St. Elias,
seemingly as distant as when we first beheld it from near Yakutat bay.
About a mile west of the hill on which we stood, and beyond the bed of
a lake now drained of its waters by a tunnel leading southward through
the ice, rose a steep, rocky island out of the glaciers, its summit
overgrown with vegetation and dark with spruce trees. This oasis in a
sea of ice, subsequently named Blossom island, we chose as the most
favorable site for our next advance-camp.
We then returned to our camp in Floral pass, and a day or two later
Kerr and Christie started on a side trip up the Hayden glacier, to be
absent five days. During this trip the weather was stormy, and only
allowed half an hour for topographical work when a somewhat favorable
station was reached. This was of great service, however, in mapping
the country, as it gave a station of considerable elevation on the
side of Mount Cook. The trip was nearly all above the snow-line, and
was relieved by many novel experiences.
{113} While Kerr and Christie were away, I assisted the camp hands in
advancing to Blossom island. Our first day's work consisted in packing
loads across the Hayden glacier to the wooded hills on its western
border, reached during the reconnoissance described above. The weather
was stormy, and a dense fog rolled in from the ocean, obscuring the
mountains, and compelling us to find our way across the glacier as
best we could without landmarks. Patiently threading our way among
crevasses, we at length came in sight of the forests on the extremity
of the mountain spur toward the west, and concluded to camp there
until the weather was more favorable. We climbed the bare slope
bordering the glacier, and forced our way through the dripping
vegetation to an open space beside a little stream and near some aged
spruce trees that would furnish good fuel for a camp-fire. We were
glad of a refuge, but did not fully appreciate the fact that our tents
were in a paradise of flowers until the next morning, when the sun
shone clear and bright for a few hours. We hailed with delight the
world of summer beauty with which we were surrounded. Our camp was in
a little valley amid irregular hills of débris left by the former ice
invasion, each of which was a rounded dome of flowers. The desolate
ice-fields were completely shut out from view by the rank vegetation.
On the slope above us, dark spruce trees loaded with streamers of
moss, and seemingly many centuries old, formed a background for the
floral decoration with which the ground was everywhere covered.
Flowering plants and ferns were massed in such dense luxuriance that
the streams were lost in gorgeous banks of bloom.
Reluctantly we returned to Floral pass for another load of camp
supplies, and late in the afternoon pressed on to Blossom island,
where we again pitched our tents in rain and mist, and again, when the
storm cleared away, found ourselves in an untrodden paradise. Kerr and
Christie rejoined us at Blossom island on July 31, and we were once
more ready for an advance.
BLOSSOM ISLAND.
Our camp on Blossom island was near a small pond of water and close
beside a thick grove of spruce trees on the western side of the
land-mass. The tents were so placed as to secure an unobstructed view
to the westward; and they were visible, in turn, to parties descending
from the mountains toward the northwest, whither our work soon led us.
{114} The sides of Blossom island are rough and precipitous. The
glaciers flowing past it cut away the rocks and, as the surface of the
ice-fields was lowered, left them in many places in rugged cliffs bare
of vegetation. The top of the island was also formerly glaciated and
in part covered with débris; but the ice retreated so long ago that
the once desolate surface has become clothed in verdure. Everywhere
there are dense growths of flowers, ferns and berry bushes. On the
rocky spurs, thrifty spruce trees, festooned with drooping streamers,
shelter luxuriant banks of mosses, lichens and ferns. There was no
evidence that human hand had ever plucked a flower in that luxuriant
garden; not a trace could be found of man's previous invasion. The
only trails were those left by the bears in forcing their way through
the dense vegetation in quest of succulent roots. Later in the season,
when the berries ripened, there was a feast spread invitingly for all
who chose to partake. On the warm summer days the air was filled with
the perfume of the flowers, birds flitted in and out of the shady
grove, and insects hummed in the glad sunlight; the freshness and
beauty on every hand made this island seem a little Eden, preserved
with all its freshness and fragrance from the destroying hand of man.
This oasis in a desert of ice is so beautiful and displays so many
instructive and attractive features that I wish the reader to come
with me up the flowery slopes and study the interesting pictures to be
seen from its summit.
The narrow ravine back of our camp is festooned and overhung with tall
ferns, shooting out from the thickets on either hand like bending
plumes. You will notice at a glance, if perchance your youthful
excursions happened to be in the northeastern states, as were mine,
that many of the plants about us are old friends, or at least former
acquaintances. The tall fern nodding so gracefully as we pass is an
_Asplenium_, but of ranker growth than in most southern regions. These
tall white flowers with aspiring, flat-topped umbels, looking like
rank caraway plants, but larger and more showy, belong to the genus
_Archangelica_, and are at home in the Cascade range and the Rocky
Mountains as well as here. The lily-like plant growing so profusely,
especially in the moist dells, with tall, slim spikes of greenish
flowers and long parallel veined leaves, is _Veratrum viride_. These
brilliant yellow monkey-flowers, bending so gracefully over the banks
of the pond, are closely related to the little {115} _Mimulus_ which
nods to its own golden reflection in many of the brooks of New
England. That purple _Epilobrum_, with now and then a pure white
variety, so common everywhere on these hills, is the same wanderer
that we have seen over many square miles beneath the burnt woods of
Maine. These bushes with obscure white flowers, looking like little
waxen bells, we recognize at once as huckleberries; in a short time
they will be loaded with luscious fruit. Inviting couches of moss
beneath the spruce trees are festooned and decorated with fairy shapes
of brown and green, that recall many a long ramble among the
Adirondack hills and in the Canadian woods. The licapods, equiseta and
ferns are many of them identical with the tracery on mossy mounds
covering fallen hemlocks in the Otsego woods in New York, but display
greater luxuriance and fresher and more brilliant colors. That
graceful little beach-fern, here and there faded to a rich brown,
foretelling of future changes, is identical with the little fairy form
we used to gather long ago along the borders of the Great Lakes.
Asters and gentians, delicate orchids and purple lupines, besides many
less familiar plants, crowd the hillsides and deck the unkept meadows
with a brilliant mass of varied light. In the full sunshine, the
hill-slopes appear as if the fields of petals clothing them had the
prism's power, and were spreading a web of rainbow tints over the lush
leaves and grasses below.
* * * * *
On our return to Blossom island, late in September, we found many of
the flowers faded, but in their places there was a profusion of
berries nearly as brilliant in color as the petals that heralded their
coming. Many of the thickets, inconspicuous before, had then a deep,
rich yellow tint, due to an abundance of luscious salmon berries,
larger than our largest blackberries. The huckleberries were also
ripe, and in wonderful profusion. These additions to our table were
especially appreciated after living for more than a month in the snow.
The ash trees were holding aloft great bunches of scarlet berries,
even deeper and richer in color than the ripe leaves on the same
brilliant branches. The deep woods were brilliant with the broad
yellow leaves of the Devil's club, above which rose spikes of crimson
berries. The dense thickets of currant bushes, so luxuriant that it
was difficult to force one's way through them, had received a dusky,
smoke-like tint, due to abundant blue-black strings of fruit suspended
all along the under sides of the branches.
* * * * *
{116} Let us not look too far ahead, however. Wandering on over the
sunny slopes, where the gardener has forgotten to separate the colors
or to divide the flower banks, we gain the top of the island; but so
dense are the plants about us, and so eager is each painted cup to
expand freely in the sunlight at the expense of its neighbors, that we
have to beat them down with our alpenstocks--much as we dislike to mar
the beauty of the place--before we can recline on the thick turf
beneath and study the strange landscape before us.
The foreground of every view is a bank of flowers nodding and swaying
in the wind, but all beyond is a frozen desert. The ice-fields before
us, with their dark bands of débris, are a picture of desolation. The
creative breath has touched only the garden which we, the first of
wanderers, have invaded. The land before us is entirely without human
associations. No battles have there been fought, no kings have ruled,
no poets have sung of its ruggedness, and no philosopher has explained
its secrets. Yet it has its history, its poetry, and its philosophy!
The mountains toward the north are too near at hand to reveal their
grandeur; only the borders of the vast snow-fields covering all of
these upper slopes are in view. In the deep cañon with perpendicular
walls, just north of our station, but curving westward so that its
upper course is concealed from view, there flows a secondary glacier
which forces its terminal moraine high up on the northern slope of
Blossom island, but does not now join the ice-field on the south.
Streams of turbid water flow from this glacier on each side of the
oasis on which we stand and unite at the mouth of a dark tunnel in the
ice toward the south.
The barren gravel plain just east of our station, and at the foot of
the glacier from the north, is the bed of a glacial lake which has
been drained through the tunnel in the ice. On our way to Blossom
island we crossed this area and found that it had but recently lost
its waters. Miniature terraces on the gravel banks forming the sides
of the basin marked the height to which the waters last rose, and all
the slopes formerly submerged were covered with a thin layer of
sediment. On the sides of the basin where this fresh lining rests on
steep slopes there are beautiful frettings made by rills in the soft
sediment. The stream from the glacier now meanders across this sand
plain, dividing as it goes into many branches, which unite on {117}
approaching the dark archway below. The lake is extremely irregular in
its behavior, and may be filled and emptied several times in a season.
The waters are either restrained or flow freely, according as the
tunnel through which they discharge is obstructed or open. The lake is
typical of a class. Similar basins may be found about many of the
spurs projecting into the Malaspina glacier.
A little west of the glacier to which I have directed your attention
there is a narrow mountain gorge occupied by another glacier, of small
size but having all the principal characteristics of even the largest
Alpine glaciers of the region. It is less than half a mile in length,
has a high grade, and is fed by several lateral branches. Its surface
is divided into an ice region below and a névé region above. It has
lateral and medial moraines, ice pinnacles, crevasses, and many other
details peculiar to glaciers. From its extremity, which is dark with
dirt and stones, there flows a stream of turbid water. It is, in fact,
a miniature similitude of the ice-streams on the neighboring mountain,
some of which are forty or fifty miles in length and many times wider
in their narrowest part than the little glacier before us is long. The
more thoroughly we become acquainted with the mountains of southern
Alaska the more interesting and more numerous do the Alpine glaciers
of the third order become. Already, thousands could be enumerated.
I will not detain my imaginary companion longer with local details,
but turn at once to the objects which will ever be the center of
attraction to visitors who may chance to reach this remote island in
the ice. Looking far up the Marvine glacier, beyond the tapering
pinnacles and rugged peaks about its head, you will see spires and
cathedral-like forms of the purest white projected against the
northern sky. They recall at once the ecclesiastic architecture of the
Old World; but instead of being dim and faded by time they seem built
of immaculate marble. They have a grandeur and repose seen only in
mountains of the first magnitude. The cathedral to the right, with the
long roof-like crest and a tapering spire at its eastern terminus, is
Mount Augusta; its elevation is over 13,000 feet. A little to the
west, and equally beautiful but slightly less in elevation, is Mount
Malaspina--a worthy monument to the unfortunate navigator whose name
it bears. These peaks are on the main St. Elias range, but from our
present point of view they form only the {118} background of a
magnificent picture. Later in the season our tents were pitched at
their very bases, and they then revealed their full grandeur and
fulfilled every promise given by distant views.
The rugged Hitchcock range bordering the distant margin of the Marvine
glacier, like the mountains near at hand and the rocky island on which
we stand, is composed of sandstone and shale, but presents one
interesting feature, to which I shall direct your attention. The trend
of the range is northeast and southwest, but the strata of which it is
composed run east and west and are inclined northward. As the range is
some eight miles long, these conditions would seem to indicate a
thickness of many thousands of feet for the rocks of which it is
composed; yet the beds were deposited in horizontal sheets of sand and
mud of very late date, as will be shown farther on. But the great
apparent thickness of the strata is deceptive: a nearer examination
would reveal the fact that the rocks have been so greatly crushed that
even a hand specimen can scarcely be broken off with fresh surfaces.
More than this, the black shale, exhibiting the greatest amount of
crushing, is usually in wedge-shaped masses, which, in some cases at
least, are bordered by what are known as thrust planes, nearly
coinciding with the bedding planes of the strata. The rocks have been
fractured and crushed together in such a way as to pile fragments of
the same layer on top of each other, and thus to increase greatly
their apparent thickness. In the elevations before us the thrust
planes are tipped northeastwardly, and it would seem that the force
that produced them acted from that direction. The apparent thickness
of the beds has thus been increased many times. What their original
thickness was, it is not now possible to say. Similar indications of a
lateral crushing in the rocks may be found in several of the mountain
spurs between the Hitchcock range and Yakutat bay; but space will not
permit me to follow this subject further.
Turning from the mountains, we direct our eyes seaward; but it is a
sea of ice that meets our view and not the blue Pacific. Far as the
eye can reach toward the west, toward the south, and toward the
southeast there is nothing in view but a vast plateau of ice or barren
débris fields resting on ice and concealing it from view. This is the
Malaspina glacier.
On the border of the ice, just below the cliffs on which we {119}
stand, there is a belt of débris perhaps five miles in breadth, which
almost completely conceals the ice beneath. Portions of this moraine
are covered by vegetation, and in places it is brilliant with flowers.
The vegetation is most abundant on the nearer border and fades away
toward the center of the glacier. Its distant border, adjacent to the
white ice-field beyond, is {120} absolutely bare and desolate. An
attempt has been made to reproduce this scene in the picture forming
plate 16. The drawing is from a photograph and shows the barren débris
field stretching away towards the southwest. The extreme southern end
of the Hitchcock range appears at the right. In the distance is the
white ice of the central part of the Malaspina glacier. Far beyond,
faintly outlined against the sky, are the snow-covered hills west of
Icy bay. The flowers in the foreground are growing on the crest of the
steep bluff bordering Blossom island on the south.
[Illustration: PLATE 16: MALASPINA GLACIER, FROM BLOSSOM ISLAND.]
On the moraine-covered portion, especially where plants have taken
root, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lakelets occupying
kettle-shaped depressions. A view of one of these interesting
reservoirs in the ice is given in figure 2. If we should go down to
the glacier and examine such a lakelet near at hand, we should find
that the cliffs of ice surrounding them are usually unsymmetrical,
being especially steep and rugged on one side and low or perhaps
wanting entirely on the other. But there is no regularity in this
respect; the steep slopes may face in any direction. On bright days
the encircling walls are always dripping with water produced by the
melting of the ice; little rills are constantly flowing down their
sides and plunging in miniature cataracts into the lake below; the
stones at the top of the ice-cliffs, belonging to the general sheet of
débris covering the glacier, are continually being undermined and
precipitated into the water. A curious fact in reference to the walls
of the lakelets is that the melting of the ice below the surface is
more rapid than above, where it is exposed to the direct rays of the
sun. As a result the depressions have the form of an hour-glass, as
indicated in the accompanying section.
[Illustration: FIGURE 2--_View of a glacial Lakelet_ (_drawn from a
Photograph_).]
[Illustration: FIGURE 3--_Section of a glacial lakelet_.]