_Mount Assiniboine—Preparations for Visiting it—Camp at Heely’s
Creek—Crossing the Simpson Pass—Shoot a Pack-Horse—A Delightful Camp—A
Difficult Snow Pass—Burnt Timber—Nature Sounds—Discovery of a
Beautiful Lake—Inspiring View of Mount Assiniboine—Our Camp at the
Base of the Mountain—Summer Snow-Storms—Inaccessibility of Mount
Assiniboine._
Great interest was aroused among tourists in the summer of 1895, by the
reports of a remarkable peak south of Banff named Mount Assiniboine.
According to current accounts, it was the highest mountain so far
discovered between the International boundary and the region of Mounts
Brown and Hooker. Besides its great altitude, it was said to be
exceedingly steep on all sides, and surrounded by charming valleys
dotted with beautiful lakes. The time required to reach the mountain
with a camping outfit and pack-horses was said to be from five to seven
days.
The romance of visiting this wild and interesting region, hitherto but
little explored, decided me to use one month of the summer season in
this manner. By great good fortune I met, at Banff, two gentlemen
likewise bent on visiting the same region, and on comparing our
prospective plans, it appeared that mutual advantage would be gained by
joining our forces. In this way we would have the pleasure of a larger
company, and at the same time the opportunity of separating, should we
come to a disagreement.
The sixth of July was decided on as the date for our departure. In the
meantime, we made frequent visits to the log-house of our outfitter, Tom
Wilson, who was to supply us with horses, our entire camping outfit, and
guides. Many years previously, Wilson had packed for the early railroad
surveyors, and had thus gained a valuable experience in all that
concerns the management and care of pack-animals among the difficulties
of mountain trails. In the past few years, he has been engaged in
supplying tourists with camping outfits and guides, for excursions among
the mountains.
The season of 1895 was very backward, and there was an unusually late
fall of snow at Banff, in the middle of June. Moreover, the weather had
remained so cold that the snow on the higher passes still remained very
deep, and several bands of Indians, who attempted to cross the mountains
with their horses late in June, were repulsed by snow six or eight feet
deep.
The weather continued cold and changeable during the first week in July.
In the meanwhile, however, our preparations for departure went on
without interruption, and Wilson’s log-house, where the supplies and
camp outfits were safely stored, became a scene of busy preparation.
On every side were to be seen the various necessaries of camp life:
saddles for the horses, piles of blankets, here and there ropes, tents,
and hobbles. Great heaps of provisions were likewise piled up in
apparent confusion, though, in reality, every item was portioned out and
carefully calculated. Rashers of bacon and bags of flour comprised the
main bulk of the provisions, but there were, besides, the luxuries of
tea, coffee, and sugar, in addition to large quantities of hard tack,
dried fruits and raisins, oatmeal, and cans of condensed milk. Pots and
pails, knives, forks, and spoons, and the necessary cooking utensils
were collected in other places. Our men were already engaged for the
trip, and were now busily moving about, seeing that everything was in
order, the saddle girths, hobbles, and ropes in good condition, the axes
sharp, and the rifles bright and clean.
At length the sixth of July came, but proved showery and wet like many
preceding days. Nevertheless, our men started in the morning for the
first camp, which was to be at Heely’s Creek, about six miles from
Banff. Our prospective route to Mount Assiniboine was, first, over the
Simpson Pass to the Simpson River, and thence, by some rather uncertain
passes, eastward, toward the region of the mountain.
Toward the middle of the afternoon we started on foot for Heely’s Creek,
where our men were to meet us and have the camp prepared. Passing
northward up the valley, we followed the road by the famous Cave and
Basin, where the hot sulphur water bubbles up among the limestone
formations which they have deposited round their borders. The Cave
appears to be the cone or crater of some extinct geyser, and now a
passage-way has been cut under one wall, so that bathers may enjoy hot
baths in this cavern. A single opening in the roof admits the light.
A short time after leaving these interesting places, we had to branch
off from the road, and plunge into a burnt forest, where there was
supposed to be a trail. The trail soon faded away into obscurity among
the maze of logs, and, worse still, it now came on to rain gently but
constantly. After an hour or more of hard work we came to Heely’s Creek.
[Illustration: PEYTO.]
The camp was on the farther side of the creek, and, after shouting
several times, Peyto, our chief packer, came dashing down on horseback,
and conveyed us, one at a time, across the deep, swift stream. Peyto
made an ideal picture of the wild west, mounted as he was on an Indian
steed, with Mexican stirrups. A great sombrero hat pushed to one side, a
buckskin shirt ornate with Indian fringes on sleeves and seams, and
cartridge belt holding a hunting knife and a six-shooter, recalled the
romantic days of old when this was the costume throughout the entire
west.
Our encampment consisted of three tents, prettily grouped among some
large spruce trees. A log fire was burning before each tent, and, on our
arrival, the cooks began to prepare our supper. This was my first night
in a tent for a year, and the conditions were unfavorable for comfort,
as we were all soaked through by our long tramp in the bush, and,
moreover, it was still raining. Nevertheless, we were all contented and
happy, our clothes soon dried before the camp fires, and after supper we
sang a few popular songs, then rolled up in warm blankets on beds of
balsam boughs, and slept peacefully till morning.
I was awakened at dawn by the cry of “Breakfast is ready,” and prepared
forthwith to do it justice. The day appeared cloudy but not very
threatening. In an hour the packers began their work, and it was
wonderful to observe the system and rapidity of their movements. The
horses, of which we had seven as pack-animals and two for the saddle,
were caught and led to the camp, where they were tied to trees near by.
All the provisions, tents, cook boxes, bags, and camp paraphernalia were
then made ready for packing. There are three prime requisites in skilful
packing. They are: the proper adjustment of the blanket and saddle so
that it will neither chafe the back of the horse nor slip while on the
march; the exact balancing of the two packs; and the knowledge of the
“diamond hitch.” The wonderful combination of turns and loops which go
to make up the diamond hitch has always been surrounded with a certain
secrecy, and jealously guarded by those initiated into the mysteries of
its formation. It was formerly so essential a part of the education of a
Westerner that as much as one hundred dollars have been paid for the
privilege of learning it. Without going into details, it may be
described as a certain manner of placing the ropes round the packs,
which, once learned, is exceedingly simple to tie on or take off, and it
will hold the pack in place under the most trying circumstances. The
name is derived from a diamond-shaped figure formed by the ropes between
the packs.
[Illustration: PACKING THE BUCKSKIN.]
By eight o’clock our procession of ten horses was on the march, and,
after passing through a meadow where every blade of grass was hung with
pendent drops of mingled rain and dew, now sparkling bright in the
morning sun, we came to the trail. Our winding cavalcade followed near
the creek and gradually rose above its roaring waters, which dashed
madly over many a cascade and waterfall in its rocky course. Our pathway
rose constantly and led us through rich forests.
Peyto led the procession mounted on an Indian horse called Chiniquy, not
a very noble-looking beast, but a veteran on the trail, and, by reason
of his long legs, a most trustworthy animal in crossing deep rivers.
Then followed the pack-horses with the men interspersed to take care of
them, and the rear was brought up by our second packer, likewise on
horseback. The greater part of the time, the gentlemen of the expedition
kept in the rear.
[Illustration: CALYPSO.]
The flowers were in all the glory of their spring-time luxuriance, and
we discovered new varieties in every meadow, swamp, and grove. Beside
the several varieties of anemones, the yellow columbines, violets, and
countless other herbaceous plants, we found, during the march of this
day, six kinds of orchids. Among them was the small and beautiful,
purple Calypso, which we found in bogs and damp woods, rearing its showy
blossom a few inches above the ground. At the base is a single
heart-shaped leaf. We were very much pleased to find this elegant and
rare orchid growing so abundantly here. There is a certain regal
nobility and elegance pertaining to the whole family of orchids, which
elevates them above all plants, and places them nearest to animate
creation. Whether we find them in high northern latitudes, in cold bogs,
or in dark forests, retreating far from the haunts of men, avoiding even
their own kind, solitary and unseen; or perhaps crowded on the branches
of trees in a tropical forest, guarded from man by venomous serpents,
the stealthy jaguar, stinging insects and a fever-laden air; they
command the greatest interest of the botanist and the highest prices of
the connoisseur.
We camped at about two o’clock, not far from the summit of the Simpson
Pass, in a valley guarded on both sides by continuous mountains of great
height.
We were surprised the next day, on reaching the summit, to find the pass
covered with snow, heaped in great drifts, ten or twenty feet deep,
among the trees. The Simpson Pass is only 6884 feet above tide, and,
consequently, is below the tree line. Near the summit were two small
ponds still frozen over. A warm sun and a genial south wind were,
however, rapidly dissolving the snow and reducing it to slush, while
clear streams of water were running in the meadows everywhere,
regardless of regular channels.
As we began our descent on the south side, a great change came over the
scene. Two hundred feet of descent brought us from this snowy landscape
to warm mountain slopes, where the grass was almost concealed by reason
of myriads of yellow lilies in full blossom, mingled with white
anemones. These banks of flowers, resembling the artificial creations of
a hot-house, were sometimes surrounded on all sides by lingering patches
of snow. Such constant and sudden change is characteristic of mountain
climates, where a few warm days suffice to melt the snow and coax forth
the flowers with surprising rapidity.
The trail now descended rapidly, and led us through forests much denser
and more luxuriant than those on the other side of the pass. Everything
betokened a moister climate, and the character of the vegetation had
changed so much that many new kinds of plants appeared, while those with
which we were familiar grew ranker and larger. We had crossed the
continental divide, from Alberta into British Columbia.
Early in the afternoon we came to our camping place on the banks of the
Simpson River, where a great number of teepee poles proved this to be a
favorite resort among the Indians. On all sides, the mountains were
heavily forested to a great height, and, far above, gray limestone
cliffs rose in bare precipices nearly free of snow.
On July the ninth, we made the longest and most arduous march so far
taken. Our route, at first, lay down the Simpson River for several
miles. While the horses and men followed the river bed almost
constantly, making frequent crossings to avail themselves of better
walking and short cuts, the rest of us necessarily remained on one bank,
and were compelled to make rapid progress to keep up with our heavily
laden horses.
After we had proceeded down the winding banks of the Simpson River for
about two hours, our pass, a mere notch in the mountains, was descried
by Mr. B., who had visited this region two years before in company with
Wilson. The pass lay to the east, and it was necessary for every one to
cross the river, which was here a very swift stream nearly a yard in
depth. We all got across in safety, but had not advanced into the forest
on the farther side more than fifty yards, when one of my pack-horses
fell, by reason of the rough ground, and broke a leg. It required but a
few minutes to unpack the poor beast and end his career with a rifle
bullet. The packs were then placed on old Chiniquy, the faithful beast
hitherto used by Peyto as a saddle-horse.
In less than fifteen minutes we were ready to proceed again. The trail
now led us up very steep ascents on a forest-clad mountain slope for
several hours. After this we entered a gap in the mountains and followed
a stream for many miles, and at length pitched our camp late in the
afternoon, after having been on the march for nine hours.
Every one was rejoiced at the prospect of a rest and something to eat.
Even the horses, so soon as their packs and saddles were removed, showed
their pleasure by rolling on the ground before hastening off to a meadow
near by. Axes were busy cutting tent poles and firewood. Soon the three
tents were placed in position, and fires were burning brightly before
each, while the cooks prepared dinner.
This place was most delightful. The immediate ground was quite level and
grassy. Near by was a clear deep stream with a gentle, nearly
imperceptible current, which afforded a fine place for a cold plunge.
The mountains hemmed in a valley of moderate width and presented a
continuous barrier on either side for many miles. The general character
of the scenery was like that of the Sierra Nevadas, with high cliffs
partly adorned with trees and shrubs, down which countless waterfalls
fell from heights so great, that they resembled threads of silver,
waving from side to side in the changing currents of air. On the
mountain side south of our camp, there stood a remarkable castle or
fortress of rock, where nature had apparently indulged her fancy in
copying the works of men. So perfect was the representation, that no aid
from the imagination was required to see ramparts, embrasures, and
turreted fortifications of a castle, in the remarkable pinnacles and
clefts cut out by nature from the horizontal strata. The next morning,
every one was more or less inspired with a pleasing anticipation and
excitement, as, according to reports, we had not far to go before we
should get our first view of Mount Assiniboine. At the end of our valley
was a pass, from the summit of which Mount Assiniboine could be seen.
The trail led us through a forest with but little underbrush, and
presently a beautiful lake burst on our view. Two of us, being somewhat
in advance of the pack train, caught a dozen fine trout here in a very
short time, and were only interrupted by the arrival of the horses and
men. The fish were so numerous that they could be seen everywhere on the
bottom, and at the appearance of our artificial flies on the water,
several fish would rise at once.
In half an hour, the summit of our pass appeared over the tree tops, and
rose, apparently, 500 feet higher. The state of the pass was, however
such as to cool our enthusiasm decidedly. It was completely covered with
snow to a great depth, which made it seem probable that we would not
succeed in getting the horses over. As this could not be proved from our
position, we pushed on, determined to overcome all difficulties. The
snow began to appear, at first, in small patches in shady places among
the forest trees, then in large drifts and finally, everywhere except on
the most exposed slopes. The trail had been lost for some time, buried
deep in the snow. Our progress was not difficult, however, as the forest
had assumed the thin and open nature characteristic of high altitudes,
and it was possible to proceed in any direction. Our horses struggled on
bravely, and by dint of placing all the men in front and breaking down a
pathway, we managed to effect passages over long stretches where the
snow was five or six feet deep. After the tree line had been reached, we
were more fortunate, as a long narrow stretch, free of snow led quite to
the top of the pass, through the otherwise unbroken snow fields. A great
cornice of snow appeared on our right near the top of the pass and
showed a depth of more than forty feet.
[Illustration: APPROACHING THE PASS.]
Near the top of the pass the travelling was much easier, and in a few
minutes we were looking over the summit across a wide valley to a range
of rough mountains hung with glaciers. Beyond them, and rising far
above, could be seen the sharp crest of Mount Assiniboine, faintly
outlined against the sky in a smoky atmosphere. The intervening wide
valley revealed a great expanse of burnt forest. The dreary waste of
burnt timber was only relieved by two lakes, several miles distant,
resting in a notch among the mountains. The nearer was about a mile in
length, while slightly beyond, and at a higher elevation, was the
second, a mere pool of dark blue water, resting against the moraine of a
glacier.
In the valley, a meadow near a large stream seemed to offer the best
chances for a camp. In an hour we reached this spot after a hard
descent. Some of our horses displayed great sagacity in selecting the
safest and easiest passages between and around the logs, and gave
evidence of their previous experience in this kind of work.
In order to rest the men and horses, after the arduous marches of the
past forty-eight hours, we decided to remain an entire day at this
place. We were also anxious to explore the two lakes, as they seemed to
offer fair promise of beautiful scenery and interesting geological
formation. Our camp was surrounded on all sides by burnt forests and
charred logs, and so offered but little of the picturesque. A partial
compensation was enjoyed, however, by reason of the great variety and
number of song birds which were now nesting in a small swamp near by.
This bog was clothed in a rich covering of grass, and here our horses
revelled in the abundance of feed, while some small bushes scattered
here and there afforded shelter and homes for several species of birds.
All day long and even far into the night we were entertained by their
melodies. The most persistent singer of all was the white-crested
sparrow, whose sweet little air of six notes was repeated every half
minute throughout the entire day, beginning with the first traces of
dawn. Perhaps our attention was more attracted to the sounds about us
because there was so little to interest the eye in this place. Smoke
from distant forest fires obscured whatever there was in the way of
mountain scenery, while the waste of burnt timber was most unattractive.
A warm, soft wind blew constantly up the valley and made dull moanings
and weird sounds among the dead trees, where strips of dried bark or
splinters of wood vibrated in the breeze. The rushing stream, fifty
yards from our camp, gave out a constant roar, now louder, now softer,
according as the wind changed direction and carried the sound towards or
away from us. The thunders of occasional avalanches, the loud reports of
stones falling on the mountain sides, were mingled with the varied
sounds of the wind, the rustling of the grass, the moaning trees, and
the songs of birds. These were all pure nature sounds, most enjoyable
and elevating. Though but partially appreciated at the time, such
experiences linger in the memory and help make up the complex
associations of pleasures whereby one is led to return again and again
to the mountains, the forests, and the wilderness.
Our time, which was set aside for this region, now being consumed, we
started on July the twelfth for the valley at the base of Mount
Assiniboine, where it was probable that we should camp for a period of
two weeks or more. Our route lay toward the end of the valley and thence
around a projecting spur of the mountain which cut off our view. In
about two hours our horses were struggling up the last steep slope near
the summit of the divide. I had delayed for a photograph of a small
lake, so the horses and men were ahead. When at length I gained the top
I found that a misplaced pack had caused delay, and so I overtook the
entire party on the borders of a most beautiful sheet of water. The
transformation was nearly instantaneous. The burnt timber was completely
shut out from view by the low ridge we had just passed over, and we
entered once more a region of green forests. The lake was long and
narrow; on the farther side, hemmed in by rock slides and cliffs of the
mountains, but on the west side a trail led along the winding shore
among larch and spruce trees. In many shady nooks along the banks of the
lake were snow-drifts, under the trees or behind protecting rocks. So
long had winter lingered this season that part of the lake was still
covered with ice. Large fragments of ice were drifting down the lake and
breaking among the ripples. Near the shore in some places, the water was
filled with thousands of narrow, needle-like pieces of ice several
inches long and perhaps thick as a match, which, by their rubbing
together in the moving water, made a gentle subdued murmur like the
rustling of a silken gown. When ice is exposed to a bright sun for
several days, it shows its internal structure by separating into
vertical columns, with a grain like that of wood. The ice needles which
we saw had been formed during the last stages of this wonderful process.
[Illustration: North Lake]
The Indians had made a most excellent trail round the lake, as
frequently happens in an open country. Wherever dense brush or much
fallen timber occur, the trail usually disappears altogether, only to be
discovered again where there is less need for it. It is said that a
trail, once made, will be preserved by the various game animals of the
country. In fact, there were quite recent tracks of a mountain goat in
the path we followed around the lake.
The trail closely followed the water’s edge and led us to the extreme
end of the lake and thence eastward, where, having left this beautiful
sheet of water, we passed through a grove for a very short space and
came at once to another smaller, and possibly still more beautiful,
sheet of water. Simultaneously the magnificent and long-expected vision
of Mount Assiniboine appeared. It was a most majestic spire or wedge of
rock rising out of great snow fields, and resembling in a striking
manner the Matterhorn of Switzerland.
It would be impossible to describe our feelings at this sight, which at
length, after several days of severe marching, now suddenly burst upon
our view. The shouts of our men, together with the excitement and
pleasure depicted in every face, were sufficient evidence of our
impressions. After a short pause, while we endeavored to estimate the
height and distance and gain some true idea of the mountain, all moved
on rapidly through alternating groves and meadows to our camping place.
This was at length selected about a half mile from the place where we
first saw Mount Assiniboine. Here was a lake nearly a mile long, which
reached up nearly to the base of the mountain, from which it was
separated by a glacier of considerable size. Our camp was on a terrace
above the lake, near the edge of a forest. A small stream ran close to
our tent, from which we could obtain water for drinking and cooking
purposes. The lake was in the bottom of a wide valley, which extended
northwards from our camp for several miles, and then opened into another
valley running east and west. The whole place might be described as an
open plain among mountains of gentle slope and moderate altitudes,
grouped about Assiniboine and its immediate spurs.
Our camp was 7000 feet above sea-level, and this was the mean height of
the valley in all this vicinity. On mountain slopes this would be about
the upper limit of tree growth, but here, owing to the fact that the
whole region was elevated, the mean temperature was slightly increased,
and we found trees growing as high as 7400 or 7500 feet above sea-level.
Nevertheless, the general character of the vegetation was sub-alpine.
Many larches were mingled with the balsam and spruce trees in the
groves, and extensive areas were destitute of trees altogether. These
moors were clothed with a variety of bushy plants, mostly dwarfed by the
rigor of the climate, while here and there a small balsam tree could be
seen, stunted and deformed by its long contest for life, and bearing
many dead branches among those still alive. These bleached and lifeless
limbs, with their thick, twisted branches resisting the axe, or even the
approach of a wood-cutter, resembled those weird and awful illustrations
of Doré, where evil spirits in the infernal regions are represented
transformed to trees.
[Illustration: Summit Lake, near Mount Assiniboine.]
Curiously enough, the trees in the groves were more or less huddled
together, as though for mutual protection. The outlying skirmishers of
balsam or spruce were undersized, and often grew in natural hedges, so
regular that not one single branchlet projected beyond the smooth
surface, as if sensitive of the wind and cold. The vegetable world does
not naturally excite our sympathy, but this exhibition of, as it were, a
united resistance against the elements was almost pitiable.
Snow banks surrounded our camp and appeared everywhere in the valley.
The lake was not entirely free of ice, and large pieces of snow and ice,
dislodged from the shores, were drifting rapidly down the lake, driven
on by a strong wind and large waves. The whole picture resembled a
miniature Arctic sea, where the curiously formed pieces of ice, often
T-shaped and arched over the water, recalled the characteristic forms of
icebergs.
It was at first impossible to explain where this never-failing supply of
ice came from. What was our surprise, on making an exploration of the
lake, to find that it had no outlet and was rapidly rising! The snow
banks and masses of ice near the glacier were being gradually lifted up
and broken off by the rising water, and so floated down the lake.
We remained at Camp Assiniboine for two weeks. During this time we
ascended many of the lesser peaks in the vicinity, and made excursions
into the neighboring valleys on all sides. The smoke only lasted one day
after our arrival, but, unfortunately, the weather during the first week
was very uncertain and fickle. A succession of storms, very brief but
often severe, swept over the mountains and treated us to a grand
exhibition of cloud and storm effects on Mount Assiniboine. Sometimes
the summit would be clear, and sharply outlined against the blue sky,
but suddenly a mass of black clouds would advance from the west and
envelope the peak in a dark covering. Long streamers of falling snow or
rain would then approach, and in a few moments we would feel the effects
at our camp. During these mountain storms the wind blows in furious
gusts, the air is filled with snow or sometimes hailstones, while
thunder and lightning continue for the space of about ten minutes. The
clouds and storm rapidly pass over eastward, and the wind falls, while
the sun warms the air, and in a few minutes removes every trace of hail
or snow. Thus we were often treated to winter and summer weather, with
all the gradations between, several times over in the space of an hour.
It seemed impossible to ascend Mount Assiniboine, guarded as it was by
vertical cliffs and hanging glaciers. Only one route appeared on this
side of the mountain, and this lay up the steep snow-covered slope of a
glacier, guarded at the top by a long _schrund_ and often swept by rocks
from a moraine above. It might be possible, having gained the top of
this, to traverse the great _névé_ surrounding the rock peak of Mount
Assiniboine. From the snow fields the bare rock cliffs rise about 3,000
feet. The angle of slope on either side is a little more than fifty-one
degrees, a slope which is often called perpendicular, and, moreover, as
the strata are horizontal, there are several vertical walls of rock,
which sweep around the entire north and west faces, and apparently make
impassable barriers.
[Illustration: NORTH LAKE—LOOKING NORTHWEST.]
[Illustration]