BACK TO THE SHORE
_Thursday, the 2nd._—In the odds and ends sack I had found an extra
flannel shirt, and, fortified by this, was not much troubled by the cold,
though I was not too warm in spite of the thick vest, two flannel shirts,
leather waistcoat, Norfolk jacket, and macintosh, that I put on before
creeping into my blanket-bag. I had announced to the Indians that we were
going back, and their delight got them up first for a wonder, though
indeed as we returned they were generally the first to move, in their
eagerness to escape from the detested country. At this camp they had been
chanting the most doleful ditties, and when I inquired what it was all
about, they said, ‘Siwash sick tum-tum, want go home.’ Among Indians the
tummy is generally regarded as the seat of the feelings.
To get everything into one load the packs had to be very heavy. Billy had
about a hundred pounds and Jimmy very little less, while in addition to
my own properties I had kettles, frying-pan, and tent-poles. We left a
small cache for the others, and our last goose, but we hoped to get some
more at H, and were off by about seven o’clock. On the Daisy Glacier we
found fresh bear-tracks, much larger than those of the two who had paid
us a visit, but we saw nothing of the beast himself. Putting up lots of
ptarmigan in the hollow of the little stream by which we descended to
cross the ravine, we went on past H to the site of Schwatka’s last camp,
flushing more ptarmigan by the stream there. Altogether I fired five
pistol-shots at them, and got a young one with my last. It was well-grown
and about the size of a French partridge. We pitched camp at the edge of
the glacier, and after lunch the men went back to fetch the things cached
at H, and to try for geese, but they only got one small one, all the rest
being able to fly. Meanwhile I took my ptarmigan on to the glacier, to
avoid the flies, and tried to skin it. This was not very easy, as the
bullet had smashed both shoulders, but I managed it in a sort of a way,
and then went for a bit across the glacier towards the Chaix Hills to get
some idea of the lie of the crevasses. We had an excellent supper, and
the men displayed marvellous appetites, eating the whole of their goose,
the legs of my bird, and two goes of rice-pudding, but I think they were
then tolerably crowded. After this I started to climb the last little
hill, which looks like an island from the opposite side of the glacier,
but coming on more ptarmigan, fired my last five cartridges and got an
old bird. I ought certainly to have had two more, but the pistol was
so foul that accuracy was impossible, while only three of the chambers
would work. Coming back, I drove two or three young ones on to the
moraine, and, shouting for Billy and Jimmy, we pursued wildly for about
half-an-hour, the men barefooted and I with only moccasins on, so that
it would have been amusing to observe our skips and hops when we lighted
on a sharper stone than usual. At last the one we had selected was too
beat to fly any more, and Billy finally succeeded in knocking him over
with a better aimed rock than usual, most of their shots being awfully
wild. Just as we were going to turn in we heard a curious cry, something
between the bleat of a sheep and the mew of a cat. The men said, though
rather doubtfully, that it was a bear, and shouted vigorously to frighten
it away, but we heard it again afterwards, and I fancy it may have been a
lynx.
_Friday, the 3rd._—I again woke several times in the night from the cold,
and could hear the ptarmigan calling quite close to the tent. We did not
get up till rather late, and got off about nine o’clock, leaving sundry
properties which I intended Mike and Matthew, who had been luxuriating at
the beach, to have the pleasure of fetching. Thinking, from my survey of
the previous day, that we could improve on the way we had come, I struck
right in nearly to the centre of the glacier, and for a long way we had
very good going with hardly any crevasses; but as we approached the two
conical mounds which made such a land-mark on the Tyndall Glacier, we
got some very bad moraine indeed, and in one place I nearly succeeded in
breaking my leg by pulling a loosely-perched boulder on to myself. It
came to an end at last, and we got up to G about noon, where we found
no sign of the other men. After pitching the tent and examining the
cache, which, like all our others, had been left untouched by four-footed
prowlers, we lunched, and I then had a delicious bathe in the little
tarn. The men slept most of the afternoon while I skinned the ptarmigan,
a futile task, as it was found impossible to preserve the skins by the
time I got home. At supper-time the view was unusually fine; a thin layer
of cloud hid the many crevasses of the Guyot Glacier, as a veil conceals
the wrinkles of a faded beauty, while above this the peaks to the west
showed with unusual grandeur, especially the long snow-clad mass which
we had christened Snowshoe Mountain. Later on the clouds thinned off a
great deal, and St. Elias, which had been banded with mist all day, came
out quite clear. The flowers on the hills, especially the violets, were
mostly over, but I found a fine rose-coloured lupin among the blue ones
at the edge of the lake.
_Saturday, the 4th._—The day dawned brilliantly fine and hot. After a
bathe I mended my clothes, and then, putting my luncheon in my pocket,
wandered over the hills, taking a good many bearings with the sextant.
As I came leisurely back along the edge of the glacier lake, which was
very bad walking, I flushed sundry ptarmigan, one of which, an old one,
perched in the top of a dead fir-tree. Just as I reached the end of the
lake I heard shouts, and, hurrying to the glacier, found H. and W. E. was
behind with the men, and, as Shorty had a bad ankle and the packs were
very heavy, we sent the Indians to help them. While they related their
adventures I got supper ready for them.
After leaving Camp I, they crossed the Tyndall Glacier for about
half-an-hour, and then put on the rope. The crevasses were very bad,
and covered with rotten snow, so that it was with difficulty that they
made their way to the foot of Mount St. Elias, and established a camp
on the last grassy slope that was visible. The scenery was very grand,
resembling the view up the Mer de Glace from the Montanvert, but on a far
larger scale. The double ice-fall of the Tyndall Glacier was well seen,
divided by a small island of rock; further to the right were two very
steep and narrow glaciers, resembling frozen waterfalls. This camp had
been reached at half-past ten (three and a half hours’ going), and at
twelve they sallied forth to explore, and mounted round the camp hill,
keeping it on the right. Two hours up a rather steep ascent brought them
to the top of a snow col connecting the camp hill with one of the arêtes
leading to the rim of the crater which was then their object. The arête
was of loose shale, everything giving way directly it was touched, but,
apart from that, the climbing was not difficult, and after reaching
a height of about six thousand feet they turned back at 4.30 P.M.,
undecided as to the morrow. Having left the stove and kerosene behind,
they expected to have to live on cold food, but found moss and shrubbery
enough to make a small fire.
Next morning they left at 8 A.M., with the intention of continuing the
same arête, but in half-an-hour they changed to the next one on the left,
and in two hours reached a height slightly greater than that of the
day before. The walking was terrible, over loose shale and steep dirt
giving no real foothold. They followed the edge of the arête for the
rest of the day, sending down quantities of stones. Then came a little
snow, part of which was solid ice, and H. had to cut a hundred and fifty
steps, which took the best part of an hour and a half. At four o’clock
they reached the summit of the arête, but, though on the brink of the
crater, could see nothing, owing to mist. The height, 7,725 feet, was
at all events better than Seton-Karr’s, and they built a cairn and left
the flag, hardly hoping to get any higher. After a hasty lunch they
descended, reaching camp at 10 P.M. They could see that the Tyndall
Glacier makes two long and beautiful sweeps round the foot of St. Elias,
full of tremendous crevasses, and though, if time were no object, it
might be possible to ascend it, it could never be a practicable route to
the summit.
The next day they made a day of rest, which was diversified by Shorty
and Lyons slaying in the morning with stones eight out of a covey of
ptarmigan, while in the evening they succeeded in smoking out and killing
four baby marmots.
On Wednesday they all came over to the Coal Glacier Camp in an hour and
a half, found me absent, and carried off the stove and sundry stores,
including the rice-pudding. In the evening they went up to a bit of
moraine east of, and just beneath, the snow col connecting the camp hill
with their first arête, and slept there, leaving at 4.40 next morning,
and keeping steadily up the arête till their arrival at the top. There
was no difficulty, it was only a sort of treadmill over the loose shale
and slate. They kept to the edge of the arête the whole way, and at the
point where it articulates with the mountain they went first up loose
débris, and then over a little snow, whence they diverged to climb a nice
bit of sandstone, and reached the rim of the crater at 7.10.
After ten minutes’ halt they continued along the brink to the summit
of the arête climbed on the 30th of July, which was reached at 7.40.
They then steered north-west over the snow towards the upper lip of the
crater, having to double back considerably to avoid some _schrunds_.
Once above these, they ascended a little snow and then a tedious slope
of loose shale, while on their right was a steep snow-slope, in too
dangerous a condition for climbing. Near the top of this they met with
some more fine rocks of grey sandstone which gave them their second ten
minutes of real climbing, and they then rested for lunch from 10.10 to
10.55. The aneroid gave a height of 9,500 feet, and to reach 10,000 they
had to go a considerable distance. Just above the sandstone rocks came
the top of the snow-slope alongside of which they had been climbing. It
proved here to be ice, and they had to cut up it, slanting to the right
so as to reach the top, where a sort of cornice was at its best. The
last part was dangerous, the ice being loose and granular, while the
last few feet were so steep that it was necessary to kneel in the steps.
Above this they found a snow-field stretching in waves round the brink
of the crater. The snow was very trying, being often above their knees,
while large crevasses separated the elevations from the depressions,
and wherever the grade was steep the snow changed to ice. They kept on
this till they were about due north of the crater, when they had their
second lunch at a height of 11,375 feet, as shown on working out the
boiling-point observations, and then went on to the foot of the highest
rocks that formed part of the eastern edge of the crater. These were
steep and mostly covered with snow, in which were large crevasses. The
snow mounted in sweeps and terraces to the top of the rocks, which they
estimated as about a thousand feet above them. They would have much liked
to have ascended these, but the day was advanced, the wind rising, and
the sun spoiling their steps, so that they thought it more prudent to
return.
At this point they were above the col joining Haydon Peak to Mount St.
Elias, but could not see the col itself. They could see, however, that
the final peak, which they then estimated as being some six thousand
feet above them, would be difficult and perhaps impossible from this
col. On the further side it would first be necessary to climb east to
avoid an overhanging glacier; then to ascend over rocks, snow, and some
green ice which might perhaps be avoided by some steep rocks to the left,
but all the climbing up this first thousand feet would be very severe.
Afterwards it would be easier, up a snow-slope till above what appears as
a mound from below (1,500 to 2,000 feet above the col), then north over
a comparatively level snow-field; then up steep snow and rocks to the
edge of the true south arête which runs up for about four thousand feet
to the summit, chiefly consisting of snow and not steep. The upper half
is steeper, but there is no rock, and there would be no difficulty there
or on the south-east face, unless, as is very probable, what seems to be
snow is in reality ice. Lower down they could see distinctly that this
was so, and therefore abandoned all idea of sleeping on the col.
The south-west face is a mass of hanging glaciers. The brow on which they
were is seen from below as a wall of snow fringing the top of the crater;
on the other side this snow falls away rapidly to the glacier which
winds down from the north-east to the head of the Tyndall Glacier. From
there no route to the col could be made, as the ice is far too broken,
and should any one force the Tyndall ice-fall his best course would be
to cross the glacier to a low rock arête, which would take him to some
snow-fields whence he might turn west and gain the huge north-west arête
of the mountain. By this he could reach the west shoulder and the way
would be simple. The weather being perfect, their view was magnificent.
To the north-west the ranges were low, but the glaciers went winding out
of sight. Mount Wrangel could not be seen, but Fairweather was distinctly
visible. On their descent they found the snow and steps much worse. They
left Mrs. Haydon’s flag in a meat-tin under a pile of stones at the foot
of the sandstone rocks where they made their first lunch, as above this
there was no place of security, and got back to camp about nine o’clock.
Next day they crossed over to Camp I, and on the Saturday descended to G,
going, at Shorty’s suggestion, all along the Tyndall Glacier, but came to
the conclusion that it was not an improvement. As the other men had not
turned up, Billy and Jimmy were informed, to their great disgust, that
they would have to go next morning and fetch the cache left at J.
_Sunday, the 5th._—W. woke us all up in the night by shouting in his
sleep, ‘Lyons, Lyons, a serac is falling on the tent!’ for which he was
unmercifully chaffed. The Indians arose at some unearthly hour and went
off to J, getting back at eight o’clock. At 6.30 A.M. W. went off to
try and turn the west end of the opposite range, which we had christened
the Ptarmigan Hills. He could persuade no one to go with him as we
all believed, first, that the hills could not be turned, owing to the
crevassed state of the Guyot Glacier, and secondly, that if he did turn
them he would only see another point beyond. We bathed and sketched,
and at about noon Ed. and Finn turned up, followed half-an-hour later
by Matthew and Gums, who had laudably endeavoured to find a better way
through the crevasses on the Guyot Glacier, but had failed signally. Gums
had come up in Mike’s place, as the latter’s feet were very sore.
They had had rainy weather on the beach nearly the whole time. A lot of
the Yakutats had been there sea-otter hunting with considerable success,
and Jack Dalton had camped for one night. He brought the news that the
body of a white man had been found at Point Manby, thrown up with a
fishing dory. The poor fellow must have got among the breakers at night,
and he had thrown out a drag to keep the boat head on to them, but must
have swamped as he reached the shore. From the tracks they saw that he
was able to crawl up the beach on his hands and knees into the bush, and
whether he died there from exhaustion or was killed by a bear no one
could say, but it is to be hoped he was dead before the bear got him. No
one recognised the boat or knew anything which might lead to discovering
his name. They buried what was left of him there, and put the dory over
his grave.
Our men had had a fair time among the flesh-pots on the shore, as,
though the Indians had got no more seals, they had shot several swans
and geese. The men came up in two days, making a camp as before at the
place where the river issues from the ice, but succeeded in getting down
in one day of sixteen hours. The water was very high, and they had to
make a raft before they could cross one creek. After lunch Lyons and I
went after ptarmigan with our pistols; Shorty also started with the rifle
which had been brought up from the first cache, but his leg was too bad
and he had to go back. He looked for me to give me the rifle, but I had
vanished down a ravine. There were not very many ptarmigan, while the
ground was so broken that it was almost impossible to mark them. I only
fired two shots; Lyons was luckier, firing ten or twelve, and getting
one bird, which he nearly lost, for he fixed it in his belt by its head,
and looking down after a time found head _et præterea nil_. Retracing
his steps carefully he managed to find the corpse. We heard W. also
popping away vigorously on the other side of the glacier, but he returned
_bredouille_ without having got round the end of the hills. After supper
Finn went out with the rifle and got two ptarmigan. He hit a goose, but
it escaped into the lake. We decided to make an early start for the
shore, so as to avail ourselves of the continued fine weather and get
back to Yakutat as soon as possible.
_Monday, the 6th._—Moved by the hope of speedily leaving the regions they
so thoroughly loathed, the Indians were astir early, and by four o’clock
the whole party was up. Finn fried the two ptarmigan for breakfast, but
as it was discovered that the Indians had been greasing their boots with
the fat in the frying-pan, no one seemed inclined to partake of the dish.
We got off by 5.30, and went down to the Guyot Glacier, along which
we proceeded at a great pace as the packs were pretty light. We got
through the crevasses without much difficulty, and, though we had some
rather muddy bits near Lake Castani, we cleared the Chaix Hills at nine
o’clock, abandoning to their fate a few stores which had been left in
the cache made at the point where our trail from F struck the glacier,
Ed., Matthew, and Mike having found more than they could bring up on July
26. Keeping about half-a-mile to the west of the depression between the
glaciers, we reached the head of the river at eleven. The water boils out
finely from under the ice, but, though it was higher than when the men
had last come up, the gravel-flat on which they had then slept being now
covered, the volume was not as great as I had expected, being perhaps
equal to that of the Visp where it joins the Rhone.
We rested a bit on the beach, and then came on in very scattered order
to the cache, the two miles taking about two hours, as the alder-bush on
the face of the moraine was very bad, and the stream was too high for
us to get along on the flats by wading every now and then, as the men
had generally been able to do. H., who stopped to photograph, went all
wrong, away from the river towards Camp C, and as he came back fell foul
of a wasp’s nest, and got stung in two or three places. Jimmy, who was
one of the first at the cache, earned our high approval by coming back
of his own accord to help Shorty in with his load. We were all collected
by half-past two, and rested all the afternoon. Supper was at 4.30, and
we at last got hold of the dried vegetables, which the men had always
forgotten to bring up, and made some splendid soup. Just above the cache
E. found a white willow-herb, and I collected some seed of the red kind
to try in England.
While we were resting in the afternoon Matthew told us that the Indians
called the river Yahkhtze-tah-heen (Muddy Harbour River), and Mount St.
Elias Yahkhtze-tah-shah (Muddy Harbour Mountain). George, the second
chief of Yakutat, afterwards told us that there used to be two villages,
one on the sea and the other at the foot of St. Elias, but that the
glaciers came down and destroyed them, according to him, in a single
night. As the Alaska glaciers are all rapidly receding, this must have
been a very long time ago, for a hundred years back, when the country
was first visited, there was far more ice than there is now, Vancouver
having been unable to enter Glacier Bay for the ice, while Icy Bay, even
on modern charts, is represented as being of a V-shape from the glaciers
running out on either side, whereas it now hardly deserves the name of a
bay at all.
Meaning to make an early start, we turned in at six o’clock, but were
driven wild by the millions of mosquitoes that invaded our tent. By this
time we were thoroughly inoculated against the effects of their bites,
but their continuous trumpeting destroyed all chance of sleep; after a
time we arose and drove out and slew as many as we could, after which
we endeavoured to close up every possible aperture. Our success was but
partial, but we managed to get a little sleep.
_Tuesday, the 7th._—We got up at 4 A.M., and were off by 5.45; an hour’s
steady going brought us down to Camp B, and we went on by the old route
to the point where Gums declared Schwatka had had a camp. Here we turned
to the left instead of keeping down the main river. At first we had
a good lot of wading, but presently reached some flats, over which we
made more satisfactory progress. At this point some wild-geese were
discovered far ahead, and Shorty set forth to stalk them; as, however,
he was unwilling to crawl over the wet mud, his six-foot-four frightened
them away while he was still three or four hundred yards off. On these
flats were a great many small frogs, of which most of the Indians were
much afraid, holding some kind of superstition about them; but Matthew
and Jimmy were apparently sceptics, and the latter, with a sly look at
us, put a frog on the back of Billy, who, though his great friend, was
perfectly furious, and for a minute I thought we were going to have a
first-class row.
At last we approached the deep creek where the men had once had to make
a raft. Now the crossing appeared feasible, but it was hard to be sure,
as all the neighbouring land on our side was under water. In the midst
of this was a stranded log, where we rested and took off our coats,
fastening them on to our packs, which we carried on our heads. H. planted
the camera in the water, and prepared to photograph the passage. Gums,
of course, led; and at the second attempt discovered a place where the
water was hardly over his armpits. This was all right for the taller
ones of us, but E. went in well up to his chin, as did Finn, who, losing
his footing, vanished with his pack. Great was the dismay till it was
discovered that he was only carrying the bacon. Jimmy also disappeared
altogether, and had eventually to be convoyed across by Gums and Matthew.
Last of all came W. and H., the latter bearing the camera. He chanced on
a deepish place, and nearly went under, but struggled on, quoting: ‘And
nobly Father Tiber bare up his faltering chin’—which chin, decked with
a ruddy beard, had dipped beneath the icy wave before he emerged on the
other side.
Three-quarters of an hour through the trees, and then a little wading,
brought us to the mouth of the first river at eleven o’clock, and we
halted for a little lunch and a great many strawberries, which were not
yet over in shady places or long grass. We then pushed on along the beach
to camp, the packs being brought down the lagoon in the small canoe,
and arrived at 1.15, hoping to start at once for Yakutat; but the other
Indians had gone hunting, and we had to await their return, which was not
till five o’clock. After some supper we got off at 6.20; it was perfectly
calm, and we didn’t ship a drop of water, or get wet above our knees.
There was a five-gallon can of kerosene which we said could be left on
the beach; Mike, however, wished to take it in the small canoe, but Gums,
after a lively argument, settled the question by driving an ice-axe into
it. It was a fair squeeze for twelve in the big canoe; I curled up just
forward of the bow oar, the other three were in the stern, and hardly so
well off. We rowed and paddled to Cape Sitkagi (10 P.M.), when a fresh
breeze from the west sprang up, and, towing the small canoe, we sailed to
Point Manby, which we passed at 4 A.M.
_Wednesday, the 8th._—The breeze then began to die away, and vanished
at five, so we had to row again, and got to Yakutat at ten o’clock. De
Groff greeted us, and gave us four breakfast, which included the unwonted
luxuries of butter and honey; the men, who were a little sulky after
their night’s exertions, cooked theirs on his stove. Then H. paid off
Ed., Finn, and the Yakutats, and arranged to leave our Indians in the
village as before, after which we went over to the Swedish Mission on
the mainland opposite, and encamped in the yard. Ed. came too, and Finn
followed in the evening. We bathed in the sea, which was decidedly cold;
but the lake at the back was too muddy, and also too near George’s ranche
to be pleasant. De Groff expected the ‘Alpha’ to arrive about the 10th.