_Organizing a Party for the Mountains—Our Plans for the Summer—William
Twin and Tom Chiniquy—Nature, Habits, and Dress of the Stoney
Indians—An Excursion on the Glacier—The Surface Debris and its
Origin—Snow Line—Ascent of the Couloir—A Terrible Accident—Getting
Down—An Exhausting Return for Aid—Hasty Organization of a Rescue
Party—Cold and Miserable Wait on the Glacier—Unpleasant Surmises—“I
Think You Die”—A Fortunate Termination._
Previous to the summer of 1894 my experiences in the Canadian Rockies
had made me acquainted with but little more of their general features
and scenery than has been already described. This was sufficient,
however, to prove that a most delightful summer could be spent among
these mountains if a party of young men were organized with some
definite object in view to hold the party together. Several of us
accordingly assembled at one of our eastern colleges and discussed plans
for the summer. Four men were persuaded to go on this excursion after
the glories of the region had been duly set forth and the evidence
corroborated so far as possible by the use of photographs. We were to
meet at Lake Louise, where our headquarters were to be at the chalet, as
near the first of July as possible.
Though the individual inclinations of the various members of our party
might seem unlikely to harmonize together, we had nevertheless agreed on
carrying out a certain plan. One of the party was an enthusiastic
hunter, another eager for the glories of mountain ascents, one a
geologist, another carried away by the charms of photography, while the
fifth and last was ready to join in almost any undertaking or enterprise
whatsoever.
However, our common purpose joined us all together to a certain degree.
This was to explore and survey the region immediately around Lake
Louise, to ascend several of the highest peaks, to get photographs of
the best scenery, and in general to learn all we could about the
environment of the lake.
Three of us arrived at the lake one fine morning early in July. The
beauty of the scenery seemed to make a deep impression on my friends,
and fortunately the clouds which at first concealed the mountain tops
lifted soon after our arrival and produced very grand effects. At that
time there were two Stoney Indians at the lake, who were engaged in
cutting a trail to a lately discovered point of interest. One of these
was named William Twin; his surname was probably derived from the fact
that he had a twin brother, whose name was Joshua. A Stoney Indian who
once acted as my guide was named Enoch; and upon being asked his surname
he replied, “Wildman.” These curious cases afford good examples of the
origin of names. William was a fine-looking Indian. He came nearer to a
realization of the ideal Indian features such as one sees on coins, or
in allegorical figures, than almost any savage I have ever seen.
Tom Chiniquy was the other of the two Indians, and indeed the more
important, as he is the eldest son of Chief Chiniquy, who in turn is
under Bears’ Paw, the head chief of all the Stoneys. An air of settled
gravity, stern and almost bordering on an appearance of gloom, betokened
his serious nature. I cannot but admire these Stoney Indians, free as
they are from the vices of civilization, while still retaining many of
the simple virtues of savage life.
As we saw the Indians every day we soon became acquainted with them,
especially as William could talk quite intelligibly in English. The very
first day of our arrival at the chalet the sharp eyes of the Indians,
which seemed to be ever roving about in search of game, discovered a
herd of goats on the mountain side. In vain did we try to see them, and
at length, by means of a pair of powerful field glasses, they appeared
as small white spots without definite forms, whereas to the Indians they
were plainly visible. William was disgusted with us, and said, “White
man no good eyes,” in evident scorn.
With practice, our race can excel the Indians in every undertaking
requiring skill, patience, or physical endurance, with the exception of
two things in which they are infinitely our superiors. These are their
ability to discover minute objects at great distances, and to read those
faint and indefinite signs made by the passage of man or game through
the forests or on the hard plains, where a white man would be completely
baffled. A turned leaf, a bent blade of grass, a broken twig, or even
the sheen on the grass, leads the swarthy savage unerringly and rapidly
along, where the more intelligent but less observant white man can see
absolutely nothing.
The Indian is said to be stolid and indifferent, while the hard labor
which the squaws are compelled to undergo is always laid up against them
as an evidence of their brutal character. But on the contrary this is
their method of dividing labor, and a squaw whose husband is compelled
to work about their camps is the subject of ridicule among the rest. The
squaws do all the work which rationally centres around the camp-fire,
just as our wives preside over our hearths and homes. The bucks provide
the food, and should privation occur they will cheerfully share their
last morsel with their wives and children, and, the more honor to them,
they will do the same by a white man. The long and arduous labors of the
chase, requiring the severest physical exertion, exhaust the strength,
often while exposed to cold and rain for long periods of time. The bucks
rightly consider their labor ended when they reach their camp, or
“teepee” as they call them. Here the squaws preside and perform all the
labor of cutting and cooking the meat, preserving and dressing the
hides, and even gathering the firewood. They cut the teepee poles and
set up their tents; and when not occupied with these more severe labors,
they spend their time in making moccasins, weaving baskets, or fancy
sewing and bead-work.
[Illustration: Tom Chiniquy.
By courtesy of Mr. S. B. Thompson.
New Westminster, B. C.]
After all, the poor Indian is our brother, and not very unlike his
civilized conqueror. One day William told me that the year before he had
lost his squaw and four children by the smallpox, and that it had
affected him so that he could not sleep. In his own simple form of
expression, it was most pathetic to hear him speak of this sad event,
which evidently affected him deeply. “Me sleep no more now,” he would
say, “all time think me, squaw die, four papoose die, no sleep me. One
little boy, me—love little boy, me—little boy die, no longer want to
live, me.”
We had the satisfaction of rendering a great service to William through
his child, who was a bright and handsome little fellow. By some accident
a splinter of wood had become lodged in the boy’s eye. We were at length
attracted by the peculiar actions of the little fellow, and upon inquiry
found that he must have been enduring great pain, though without making
a murmur of discontent. We took the matter in hand at once and sent him
down to Banff, where, under skilful medical attendance, his eyesight,
than which nothing is more dear to an Indian and which was totally gone
in the affected eye and partially so in the other, was restored in a
great measure. William was very grateful to us ever after, and on
returning, some ten days later, delivered himself somewhat as follows:
“Me say very much obliged. Three white men pretty good, I think.”
The Stoneys are a remarkable tribe of Indians. Their headquarters is at
a little place called Morley, about twenty miles east of the mountains
on the plains. Here they are under the religious instruction of the Rev.
Mr. McDougal. So far as the Indian is capable of receiving and following
the precepts of Christianity, the Stoneys seem to have equalled or
surpassed all other tribes. They are said to be great Bible readers, and
they certainly show some familiarity with the Old Testament history, if
we may judge by their custom of adopting Bible names. They have been
taught a certain arbitrary code by which they can read and write in a
simple manner, while many of them talk English if not fluently at least
intelligibly.
Their manner of dress is a concession to their own native ideas and
those of civilization, for while they invariably cling to moccasins and
usually affect trousers cut from blankets with broad wings or flaps at
the sides, their costume is not infrequently completed by some old
discarded coat received by purchase or gift from the white man. These
Indians rarely wear hat or cap, but allow their straight black hair to
reach their shoulders and serve in place of any artificial protection.
On either side of the face the hair is gathered into a braid so as to do
away with the inconvenience of constantly pushing back their loose hair.
Dr. Dawson says that the Stoney Indians have very few names for the
mountains and rivers, and that they have only inhabited this region for
about forty years. The greater part of the Indian names for various
features of the country are in reality Cree or their equivalents in
Stoney. The Stoneys have recently incorporated the families of the
Mountain Crees with their own. According to De Smet, both the Crees and
the Stoneys migrated southward from the Athabasca region a few years
before 1849, and it is probable that they entered this region about that
time.
I cannot conclude this digression on the Stoney Indians without quoting
a few remarks from Captain Palliser’s reports. Though written nearly
forty years ago these facts are no less true than at that time.
“The members of the Stone tribe are hard workers, as their life is one
requiring constant exertion and foresight. They travel in the mountains
or in the forests along their eastern base, in parties of six or seven
families. The young men are always off hunting in search of moose or
other kinds of deer, or of the Rocky Mountain sheep. The old men busy
themselves cutting out the travelling tracks through the woods, while
the women pack and drive the few horses they use for carrying their
small supplies. They generally use skin tents stretched on a conical
framework of poles, but their wigwams are much smaller than those of the
Plain Indians. The women dress all the skins of the animals they kill
into a soft leather, which, when smoked, is the material used throughout
the whole country for making moccasins, most of the fine leather being
obtained from the Stoneys. They are excellent hunters, and though as a
rule small and feeble in body, are probably capable of more endurance
than any other class of Indians. They make trustworthy guides, and, with
a few exceptions, after some acquaintance with this tribe, you no more
expect to be deceived, or told lies, as a matter of course, than you
would in a community of white men.”
So much for the Rocky Mountain Stoneys, or as they are sometimes called,
the Assiniboines.
The completion of our party did not take place at the wished-for time,
and for more than two weeks Mr. F. and Mr. H., and I were alone at the
chalet. We commenced our surveying work by measuring a very accurate
base line on the lake shore, and began training by making various
moderate excursions on the mountain sides. On the third day, however,
after our arrival the whole plan of our party came near having a most
sudden and unwished-for termination, together with results which nearly
proved fatal to one of the party. The accident and its attendant
circumstances proved the most exciting episode in all our experiences,
and as it most clearly illustrates the chief danger of climbing in the
Canadian Rockies, I shall describe it in detail.
It happened in this manner. On the 13th of July, Mr. H., Mr. F., and I
started to make an exploration of the glacier that is plainly visible
from the chalet and which, some two miles distant, flows down from the
snow fields and hanging glaciers of Mount Lefroy. This glacier is formed
from two branches, which come in from the east, and uniting into one
great stream, terminate about one mile above the head of the lake. The
extreme length from the snout measured to the highest part of the
glacier is about three miles, while the average width is less than one
third of a mile.
The object of this excursion was in great part to gain a little
knowledge of the use of rope and ice-axe, which we expected would be
required in much of our subsequent work. There was no difficulty in the
first part of this excursion, as a good trail leads round the lake and
some half-mile beyond. There we forded the icy stream which comes from
the glacier and pursued our way between the moraine and the mountain
side for nearly a mile on the east side of the glacier. Our next move
was to ascend the moraine, which was very steep and about a hundred feet
high at this point. On arriving at the sharp crest of the moraine, we
saw the great ice stream some fifty feet below, and so thoroughly
covered with debris and boulders that the glacier was almost totally
concealed. The passage down the moraine was very disagreeable, as the
loose stones all scratched and polished by their former passage under
the glacier were now rolling from under our feet and starting up great
clouds of dust. Just below, at the border of the glacier, the water from
the melting ice had converted the clay of the moraine into treacherous
pools of bluish-gray mud, veritable sloughs of despond. At length, by
the use of our ice-axes, we gained the firmer ice and with it the
advantage of far more pleasant walking. We found the whole surface of
the glacier literally covered with sharp stones and boulders of all
sizes up to those which must have measured ten feet square by twenty
feet long. They represented all sorts of formations, shales, limestones,
and sandstones thrown down in wild disorder over the entire surface of
the ice. All this material had been wrested from the mountain side far
up the valley by frost and avalanche, and was now slowly moving toward
the great terminal moraine. In one place a large area of nearly half an
acre was strewed with giant blocks of a peculiar kind of rock different
from all the rest, which apparently had come thundering down the
mountain walls in one great rock-slide many years ago. Large flat slabs
of shale were seen here and there supported on pillars of ice, showing
how much the general surface of the glacier had wasted away under the
influence of the sun’s heat, while these pillars had been protected by
the shade of the stone.
Advancing half a mile over the field of debris, we came gradually to
where there were fewer stones, and at length reached almost pure ice.
The question always arises where do all the boulders and pebbles that
cover the lower parts of the glaciers come from? In the upper parts of
the glaciers or _névé_ regions, where the snow remains perpetual and
increases from year to year, the stones from the mountain sides are
covered as they fall, and are at length buried deep and surrounded by
ice as the snow becomes compressed and solidified. As the glacier
advances down the valley and descends to lower altitudes, a level is at
length reached where the snowfall of winter is exactly balanced by the
melting of summer. This is the snow line, or rather this is the best
place in which to locate such a variable level. Below this line the
surface of the glacier melts away more than enough to make up for the
winter fall of snow, and, as a result, the stones and debris buried in
the ice gradually appear on the surface. In the Canadian Rockies near
this latitude the snow line on northerly exposures, as judged by this
method, is about 7000 feet above the sea, which is also just about the
level called tree line.
In mountainous regions, where the climate is very dry, as in Colorado or
in certain parts of the Andes, there is a great belt of several thousand
feet between tree line and snow line where there is not sufficient
moisture to allow of tree growth nor sufficient snowfall to form
glaciers at all. In the Canadian Rockies the climate is moist enough to
make these lines approach, and in the Selkirk Range and regions of
extreme humidity the snow line is actually lower than the tree line.
We advanced slowly over the glacier and found much of interest on every
side. The surface of the ice was at first comparatively smooth and
channelled with small streams of pure water which flowed along with
utmost rapidity but almost without ripples, as the smooth icy grooves
seem adapted to every whim of the flowing water. At length the ice
became more uneven and our passage was interrupted by crevasses, around
which we had to thread our way by many a turn and detour. Most of them
were, however, partly filled or bridged by snow and we found no
particular difficulty in pursuing our way. About one o’clock we found
ourselves at the base of Mount Lefroy, a little beyond the point where
the two branches unite, and we held a consultation as to the plan of our
farther advance. Mount Lefroy rises from the glacier in precipitous
cliffs on every side, and we were even now under the shadow of its
gloomy and threatening rock wall. There is no apparent method of scaling
this mountain except by a long _couloir_ or snow slope, which rises from
the glacier and ascends nearly 1000 feet to a more gentle slope above
the precipice. It was our intention to ascend this mountain, if
possible, some time during the summer but the results of our first
exploration for a favorable route rather inclined us to give up further
attempts.
The result of our consultation was the decision to climb a short way up
the _couloir_ in order to see if it were possible to reach the gentle
slope above. If this proved practicable, the ascent of the mountain was
almost assured, as no great difficulties presented themselves above.
Accordingly we commenced the ascent, all roped together in true Alpine
fashion, and soon found the pitch so steep that our ice-axes rendered us
much assistance in cutting steps. A number of great _schrunds_ or
horizontal crevasses often found on such slopes appeared to block our
way, but as we approached we found a passage round every one. They were
boat-shaped holes in the snow some forty or fifty feet deep and about
the same width. The bottom of each appeared smooth and apparently of
firm snow, so that they were not in reality very dangerous obstacles, as
compared with the narrow and wellnigh unfathomable crevasses of an
ordinary glacier.
Nevertheless, when we had reached a point several hundred feet above the
schrunds and were on a steep slope of snow, my companions advocated
taking to the rock ledges on the right of the snow, as they were
altogether inexperienced in mountain climbing and felt somewhat nervous.
We found the rock ledges practicable and quite easy except for a great
number of loose stones which went rattling down as we advanced. We were
in a gloomy narrow gorge filled with snow and hemmed in on either side
by cliffs which rose with almost vertical sides, here and there dripping
with water from the snows above.
Whenever we paused for a momentary rest and the sliding, rattling stones
ceased to fall, we were oppressed by the awful silence of this cheerless
place of rocks and snow nearly 8000 feet above sea level.
It was while ascending these rock ledges that the accident occurred
which came so near proving disastrous. There were a series of ledges
from six to ten feet high alternating with narrow shelves where the
slope was only moderately steep. The whole place was strewed with loose
stones and boulders, some of which were so delicately poised that the
slightest touch seemed sufficient to send them crashing down the cliff.
At length a very dangerous looking stone of large size could be seen on
the next shelf above us apparently just balanced in its precarious
position, for the light could be seen underneath its base. H. followed
me in safety around this great boulder which must have weighed more than
half a ton. I was on the point of ascending the next ledge with the
assistance of H. when we both heard a dull grating sound below, and
turning, beheld the great boulder starting to roll over, and F. just
below it and on the point of falling over the cliff. F. fell about ten
feet to the next shelf where he was partially checked by the rope and
prevented from falling farther. But to our horror the boulder, which had
now gained considerable motion, followed after, and leaping over the
ledge, for a short but awful moment it seemed to hang in mid-air, and
then came down on F. with terrible force. It seemed impossible that
there should be anything left of our poor friend. With a horrible crash
and roar the great stone continued down the gorge, attended by a
thousand flying fragments till the rocky cliffs echoed again.
After a momentary pause, unable to move and riveted to our places in
horror, we hastily scrambled down to our companion who lay on the cliff
insensible and bleeding. Our first efforts were to staunch his wounds
with snow and then a hasty examination proved that though his hip
appeared dislocated he had received probably no further serious injury.
This escape appeared almost miraculous and it is probable that in the
flying cloud of stones a smaller piece just happened to come under the
great boulder and supported it partially at one end so that the full
force of the blow was not felt. It was now half-past two in the
afternoon and we were three hours’ journey from the chalet with a man on
our hands absolutely incapable of walking or even partially supporting
his weight. It was evident that one of us must needs hasten back to the
chalet for aid, but first it was necessary to get down the long
snow-slope to the glacier.
Fortunately our rope was fully sixty feet long and after tying a loop
under F.’s shoulders, I anchored myself securely with my ice-axe in the
snow, and then lowered him rapidly but safely the length of the rope. H.
then went down to F. and held him while I descended, and thus after
twelve or fifteen repetitions of this proceeding we all landed in safety
on the glacier. Having selected a place on the ice which was partially
covered with a few small stones, we took off our coats and placed our
wounded companion on this hard cold couch.
Carrying nothing but my ice-axe, I started for the chalet at once. The
first part of the journey, while threading the crevasses, was slow and
somewhat dangerous without the rope, but by running whenever practicable
and pushing my energies to the utmost, I reached the chalet in one hour
and ten minutes, or less than half the time required by us to come up in
the morning. Unfortunately no one was at the chalet except Joe the cook.
I however got him started immediately to cut two long, stout poles and a
piece of canvas with which to make a litter. The two Indians were on the
mountain side near Mirror Lake working on the trail and Mr. Astley, the
manager of the chalet, was guiding some visitors to Lake Agnes. There
was no other course open than to climb up after them, though I was quite
exhausted by this time. I found William after twenty minutes of hard
climbing and made him understand the situation at once. One must use a
simple manner of speech as near like their own as possible, so I said to
him—“William, three white men go up big snow mountain. Big stone came
down, hurt one man. Tom, Mr. Astley, you—all go up snow mountain, bring
white man back.” William’s face was a picture of horror, and he asked in
anxiety—“Kill him?” I said no, but that he must hurry and get the other
men. Dropping his axe, he ran off for the others in all haste, while I
returned to the chalet and gathered sundry provisions and stimulants.
The rescuing party of four men was started in about thirty minutes, and
taking the boat, rowed down the lake, till at last the small black speck
on the water disappeared from our view as they neared the farther end.
A two-and-a-half mile ride on horseback brought me to the railroad
station, where I sent a telegram to Banff for the Doctor. As there would
be no train till the next morning I made arrangements for a hand-car to
bring the Doctor up at once. A response soon came back that he was just
about to start on his long ride of thirty-eight miles to Laggan.
Meanwhile poor F. and H. were having a miserable time of it on the
glacier. The long hours rolled by one after another and no sign of aid
or assistance was apparent. The days were still very long, but at length
the declining sun sank behind the great ridge or mountain wall extending
northward from Mount Lefroy. The glacier which imparts a chilly dampness
even to the brilliancy of a mid-day sun now rapidly became cold in the
lengthening shadows, and the surface waters began to freeze, while the
deep blue pools of water shot out little needles of ice with surprising
rapidity.
As they had seen me no more after I had disappeared behind a swelling
mound of ice, they conjured up in their imaginations the possibility
that I had fallen into some deep crevasse or had hurt myself on the
treacherous moraine. At length, urged to desperate resolves, they formed
a plan of leaving the ice by the nearest route, at whatever hazard to
life and limb, rather than die of cold and exposure on the glacier. They
had abundant opportunity for studying the grand phenomena of this Alpine
region near at hand: the thundering avalanches from the cliffs behind
them, and the cracking, groaning ice of the glacier as the great frozen
stream moved slowly over its rocky uneven bed.
At length, to their great joy, they discerned by means of a field-glass
which we had carried with us in the morning, the boat leaving the lake
shore and slowly approaching. In half an hour the party reached the near
end of the lake and were then lost to view for nearly two hours, till at
length four little black dots appeared about a mile distant moving over
the ice toward them.
The rescuing party did not reach them till seven o’clock, or more than
four hours after the accident occurred. The return to the chalet was
most exhausting to the men, especially to the Indians, whose moccasins
afforded poor protection against the sharp stones and ice of the
glacier.
Two section men came up from Laggan and met the party as they were
returning, and afforded timely aid by their fresh strength. Poor F. was
carried in a canvas litter hastily constructed and consequently not
perfect in its results, as it only served to lift him a very little
above the ground at the best and then where the ground was very smooth.
William observed his haggard face and woe-begone appearance with concern
and entertained the invalid at frequent intervals by such remarks as,
“You think you die, me think so too.” The rescuing party arrived at the
chalet shortly after midnight, while the Doctor appeared an hour later.
Each party had been travelling for the last five hours toward the
chalet, and while one was accomplishing about three miles the other
covered more than forty.
Fortunately there were no injuries discovered that would not heal in a
few weeks, and through the influence of mountain air and perfect rest,
recovery took place much more quickly than could be expected.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]