rivers of Western Washington. From the summit of the three peaks the
snow forges its way downward until it is compressed into ice; the ice
in turn is compressed until it assumes that peculiar blue tint that
characterizes ice under great pressure. These ice streams move slowly
down the valleys, about one foot in twenty-four hours, conforming to
their beds. Where the bed is inclined, the glacier breaks into
innumerable masses, somewhat regular, with great yawning crevasses
between. While crossing one of the White River glaciers below an
ice-fall I had to stand clear of a dozen bowlders that came rolling
down from the brink, telling very forcibly that the glacier was
moving. These glaciers plow their way down the valleys to an elevation
of between 3000 and 4000 feet, and there dissolve into water. Some of
them terminate in a gentle incline; others present a high wall of
clear ice, with the river issuing from an immense cave; still others
deposit vast quantities of stones and earth, forming what is called
the "terminal moraine." The glaciers of the northern peak, five in
number, form the Puyallup and its principal tributary, the Carbon; the
twelve glaciers of the eastern slope of crater peak yield the icy
waters of the White and Cowlitz; the glaciers of the southern peak
form the several sources of the Nisqually. The glaciers are from one
to two miles in width, and from six to twelve miles in length. Like
the rivers which they form, they themselves have tributaries. When two
glaciers unite, their inside lateral moraines join and form a medial
moraine.
The ascent of Mount Rainier is difficult and dangerous. Three
different parties have reached the summit from the south side--namely,
Hazard Stevens and P. B. Van Trump in 1870; P. B. Van Trump, James
Longmire and Mr. Bailey, in 1883; and a party of seven, of which the
writer was the projector, in August of the present year. A party of
three from Snohomish claim to have reached the summit by the northeast
side in the summer of 1884. Several others and myself have made two
attempts to reach the summit from that side, but came to an impassable
crevasse at an elevation of about 14,000 feet on both occasions.
On the morning of the 10th of last August a party of eight gentlemen
left Seattle for Yelm with the necessary equipments and provisions for
a two weeks' sojourn among the eternal hills. At Yelm we secured the
necessary horses to convey our outfit to the snow line on the south
side. The day at Yelm was clear and beautiful--Mount Rainier never
looked so grand before. Its three peaks stood out in bold relief
against the sky, while its walls of ice sparkled with resplendent
beauty. During the morning and evening the play of colors around its
base, extending in graduated bands far towards the zenith, made our
artist groan aloud because of his inability to transfer them to
canvas. It took us three days from the time we left Yelm to reach the
Longmire Mineral Springs. These springs were discovered by Mr. James
Longmire in 1883. They number twenty-five or more, and are heavily
charged with carbon dioxide and other gases that combine to make the
water a very pleasant drink as well as a health-giving beverage.
Around each spring is an incrustation of soda compounds deposited by
the water. One spring, over which a rude bath-house has been
constructed, pours forth a large quantity of water at a temperature of
85° Fahr. A bath in this water is pleasant and invigorating. The view
from the springs is very beautiful. On the right is the swift flowing
Nisqually; on the left, a solid white wall of basaltic rock rises to a
height of nearly one thousand feet; while in front, seeming only a
mile away, Mount Rainier stands in silent majesty. There were several
visitors at the springs. In the near future these springs will be
sought by hundreds of invalids. We would gladly have remained at the
springs for several days, but, with the old monarch so near, we could
not delay. The next day found all of the party but two on the tramp.
That day's work was to ascend to Camp of the Clouds, distant about
five miles from the springs. It was no small task. The trail is steep
and rugged, and has been traveled but little. About three miles from
the springs it crosses the Nisqually. From that point for a mile it is
one of the steepest trails I have ever traveled. When the top was
reached we were regaled by the sight and odor of flowers that
surpassed description in odor and variety. From this point to Camp of
the Clouds, two miles further on, our path was literally strewed with
beautiful flowers. This entire region is a paradise for the botanist,
and the flowers deserve a much fuller description.
At last, after four days of hard tramping, we have reached permanent
camp at an elevation of about 6,000 feet. Here we unpack, pitch our
tent and turn our jaded horses loose. Here we wish all our friends
with us, and here we would gladly remain a month in deep enjoyment of
the grandeur and beauty around us, but our time is limited and our
friends far away.
Monday noon, August 14th, we carefully prepare for the ascent. It is
light artillery now--a pair of blankets, a small supply of provisions,
principally chocolate, and our Alpine staves complete the outfit. With
cheerful hearts and steady nerves we begin the climb. It is our
purpose to ascend to a height of about 10,000 feet and there make camp
for the night. Soon we pass the timber line. Our pathway now lies over
the eternal snow, broken only by a projecting spur of the mountain.
After five hours of hard climbing, we come to a ridge covered with
sand and pumice. From the presence of the latter we know it to be a
spot comparatively free from wind, for, on account of the lightness of
the pumice, it is easily blown away. Here we decide to camp. Two by
two we go to work preparing our beds. This we do by clearing away the
loose stones from a space about three by six feet, stirring the sand
up with our pikes and making a wall of rocks around the cleared place.
After a half hour's toil we declare our beds prepared. Hastily
partaking of a little chocolate and hardtack, we "turn in," although
the hour is early; but the wind is rising and the sharp, stinging cold
is upon us. After passing a miserable night, we break camp at 4:30
o'clock. Throwing aside our blankets and part of our provisions, we
begin the final ascent. Our course takes us along the crest of a rocky
ridge and beneath a perpendicular wall of basalt over a thousand feet
in height. Here the courage of one of the party failed him, and he
concluded to go no farther. The most dangerous part of the ascent is
along the base of this cliff. The earth pitches at an angle of 35°
from its base, and at three particular places this incline is not over
six feet wide, ending in a perpendicular jump-off of fifteen hundred
feet to the Nisqually glacier below. After a half hour's crouching and
crawling we get past this dangerous part of our undertaking. We must
now ascend almost perpendicularly one thousand feet to the top of this
wall. Ordinarily steps have to be cut in the snow and ice, but on this
occasion the snow lay in little drifts that served as steps. Up this
ladder of snow and ice, prepared by the winds, we climb, pausing every
few steps "to take breath." The top is reached at last. Upon
consulting our barometer we find we are 12,000 feet above the sea
level. A halt is ordered to put six steel brads in the sole of each
boot, to prevent us from slipping on the ice and hard snow that we
must now encounter.
From the crest of this cliff the incline of the mountain to the summit
is less than at any other point and consequently fewer crevasses, the
terror of the mountaineer. Bracing ourselves for the final effort, we
resumed the march. On account of the continuous ascent and the rarity
of the atmosphere we have to rest every twenty or thirty steps. Still
ascending, avoiding the crevasses by a zigzag path, we at last reach
the last one, or what might more properly be called the first
crevasse. This crevasse is formed by the first breaking off of the
snow as it begins to slide down the mountain. The upper side is often
a perpendicular wall of hard snow from ten to fifty feet high. This
same crevasse, for it extends half way round the mountain, prevented
our further progress on two previous occasions, when attempting to
reach the summit from the northeast slope. Luckily on this occasion we
found a bridge that afforded us a safe passage over. From this point
we can see a clear path to the summit. Upward we climb to where the
rim of the crater seems but a few hundred feet away. Look! there is a
jet of steam right ahead; one grand effort and I sit upon the rim of
the crater. I shout a word of triumph which sounds strangely shrill to
my companions below, who, one by one, soon gain my exalted position.
The feeling of triumph that filled the heart of each one as he gained
that sublime height can be realized by no one who has not been in a
similar position.
Space precludes an extensive description of the view from our elevated
position; Washington, Oregon and the Sound and sea lay below us. A
roll of clouds extending entirely around the horizon somewhat
obstructed the prospect, yet added to the beauty of the scene. Mts.
Baker, Adams, Hood, St. Helens, and Jefferson appeared above the
clouds; the Cascade and Olympic ranges, Puget Sound and numerous river
basins appeared below, while the smoke of distant cities completed
the scene. Reluctantly turning from this grand panorama of nature, I
gave my attention to an examination of the craters. There are two,
elliptical in shape, and from one-half to three-fourths of a mile
across. Their rims are bare outside, and in to an average depth of
thirty feet from the crest. This is owing to the internal heat and
escaping steam, which issues from a hundred jets within the
circumference of the craters. The steam escapes in intermittent jets
from little orifices about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. The
walls of the crater in some places are quite warm, all of which
plainly indicates that Mount Rainier is a volcano, not extinct but
slumbering.
The amount of steam that escapes from the crater at any one time
varies with the atmospheric pressure. In fact, Mount Rainier is a
reliable barometer, foretelling a storm with certainty. Everyone who
has noted the appearance of the mountain from time to time is familiar
with the peculiar white cloud that is frequently seen suspended just
above the summit, while no other clouds are in sight. This peculiar
cloud, caused by the condensation of escaping steam, is called
"Rainier's cap," and is the forerunner of a storm. There was
considerable snow in the craters, but it had the appearance of having
recently fallen. I believe, should it cease to snow for two or three
months, the crater would become entirely bare inside; but this is not
possible, for it snows on Mount Rainier even in midsummer.
Our party spent about two hours on the summit. We would gladly have
tarried longer, but the clouds were gradually approaching from all
points, and we did not care to take the chance of spending a night in
the crater. Our descent in some places was even more dangerous than
the ascent, owing to the falling rock. I recall with a shudder the
successful dodging of a shower of bowlders on their way down from the
top of a cliff two thousand feet above. They were singing as merrily
as a cannon ball just shot from a thirty-pounder as they passed my
head.
Our party left the summit about two o'clock, and some of us reached
"Camp of the Clouds" by six o'clock, descending in four hours the same
distance that we were twelve hours in covering on the upward climb.
The names of the party making this very successful ascent are: John
Muir, P. B. Van Trump, A. C. Warner, D. W. Bass, N. O. Booth, C. V.
Piper and E. S. Ingraham.
[Illustration: PROFESSOR ISRAEL COOK RUSSELL.]
XI. EXPLORING THE MOUNTAIN AND ITS GLACIERS, 1896
BY PROFESSOR I. C. RUSSELL
The name of Professor Israel Cook Russell is permanently
associated with Mount Rainier. He was one of America's noted
geologists. He was born near Garrattsville, New York, on
December 10, 1852. Graduating from the University of the City
of New York in 1872, he at once began his career in science.
In 1874, he was a member of the United States party at
Queenstown, New Zealand, to observe the transit of Venus.
From 1878 to 1892, he wrought valuable work in geology for
the United States Geological Survey. This took him to Alaska
and various other parts of the country. He succeeded
Alexander Winchell as Professor of Geology in the University
of Michigan in 1892 and continued to spend his summers in
field work. One of his trips was to the West Indies during
the eruption of Mount Pelee.
Most of his summer trips were devoted to the mountains and
valleys of Oregon and Washington. It was during one of these
trips, in the summer of 1896, that he made the explorations
of Mount Rainier the extensive record of which, fully
illustrated, appeared in the Eighteenth Annual Report of the
United States Geological Survey for 1896-1897. The essential
portions of that record are here reproduced by permission of
Director George Otis Smith of the Survey, who also kindly
furnished a portrait of his former colleague.
Professor Russell was honored with the Doctor of Laws degree
by his alma mater and by the University of Wisconsin. He died
suddenly at the zenith of his power in 1906, leaving a widow,
Mrs. J. Augusta (Olmstead) Russell and three daughters. An
earnest appreciation of his character and work by G. K.
Gilbert was published in The Journal of Geology, Volume XIV,
number 8, November-December, 1906. When The Mountaineers Club
ascended the mountain in 1909 they named in his honor Russell
Cliff, a majestic crest near the summit and overlooking the
Winthrop and Emmons glaciers, and later a glacier on the
northern slope, near Carbon Glacier, was named Russell
Glacier.
The reconnaissance during which the notes for this essay were obtained
began [1896] at Carbonado, a small coal-mining town about 20 miles
southeast of Tacoma, with which it is connected by a branch of the
Union [Northern] Pacific Railroad. Carbonado is situated on the border
of the unbroken forest. Eastward to beyond the crest of the Cascade
Mountains is a primeval forest, the density and magnificence of which
it is impossible adequately to describe to one who is not somewhat
familiar with the Puget Sound region. From Carbonado a trail, cut
through the forest under the direction of Willis in 1881, leads to
Carbon River, a stream flowing from Mount Rainier, which it formerly
crossed by a bridge that is now destroyed, and thence continues to the
west of the mountain to Busywild. A branch of this trail leads
eastward to the north side of the mountain, making accessible a
beautiful region near the timber line, known as Spray Park.
Our party consisted of Bailey Willis, geologist in charge, George Otis
Smith and myself, assistants, and F. H. Ainsworth, Fred Koch, William
B. Williams, and Michael Autier, camp hands.
From Carbonado we proceeded with pack animals along the Willis trail,
already mentioned, to the crossing of Carbon River. We then left the
main trail and went up the right bank of the river by a trail recently
cut as far as the mouth of Chenuis Creek. At that locality our party
was divided; Willis and myself, taking blankets, rations, etc., and
crossing the river, proceeded up its bowlder-strewn left bank to the
foot of Carbon Glacier. The remainder of the party cut a trail along
the right bank, and in the course of a few days succeeded in making a
depot of supplies near where the river emerges from beneath the
extremity of the glacier. The pack train was then taken back to near
Carbonado for pasture.
The tramp from Carbonado to the foot of the Carbon Glacier was full
of interest, as it revealed the characteristics of a great region,
covered with a dense forest, which is a part of the deeply dissected
Tertiary peneplain surrounding Mount Rainier. The rocks from Carbonado
to Carbon River crossing are coal bearing. Extensive mines are worked
at Carbonado, and test shafts have been opened at a few localities
near the trail which we followed. At Carbonado the river flows through
a steep-sided canyon about 300 feet deep. Near where the Willis trail
crosses the stream the canyon broadens, is deeply filled with
bowlders, and is bordered by forest-covered mountains fully 3,000 feet
in elevation. On account of the dense forests, the scenery throughout
the region traversed is wild and picturesque. At a few localities
glimpses were obtained of the great snow-clad dome of Mount Rainier,
rising far over the intervening tree-covered foothills.
The forests of the Puget Sound region are the most magnificent on the
continent. The moist atmosphere and genial climate have led to a
wonderfully luxuriant growth, especially of evergreens. Huge fir trees
and cedars stand in close-set ranks and shoot upward straight and
massive to heights which frequently exceed 250 feet, and sometimes are
even in excess of 300 feet. The trees are frequently 10 to 12 feet or
more in diameter at the height of one's head and rise in massive
columns without a blemish to the first branches, which are in many
instances 150 feet from the ground. The soil beneath the mighty trees
is deeply covered with mosses of many harmonious tints, and decked
with rank ferns, whose gracefully bending fronds attain a length of 6
to 8 feet. Lithe, slender maples, termed vine-maples from their habit
of growth, are plentiful, especially along the small water courses. In
many places the broad leaves of the devil's club (_Fatsia horrida_)
give an almost tropical luxuriance to the shadowy realm beneath the
lofty canopies formed by the firs and cedars.
[A quotation from Bailey Willis is omitted, as the whole
article is published in this work--Chapter IX.]
The mighty forest through which we traveled from Carbonado to the
crossing of Carbon River extends over the country all about Mount
Rainier and clothes the sides of the mountain to a height of about
6,000 feet. From distant points of view it appears as an unbroken
emerald setting for the gleaming, jewel-like summit of the
snow-covered peak.
In spite of the many attractions of the forest, it was with a sense of
relief that we entered the canyon of Carbon River and had space to see
about us. The river presents features of geographical interest,
especially in the fact that it is filling in its valley. The load of
stone contributed by the glaciers, from which the stream comes as a
roaring turbid flood, is greater than it can sweep along, and much of
its freight is dropped by the way. The bottom of the canyon is a
desolate, flood-swept area of rounded bowlders, from 100 to 200 yards
broad. The stream channel is continually shifting, and is frequently
divided by islands of bowlders, heaped high during some period of
flood. Many of the stream channels leading away from Mount Rainier are
known to have the characteristics of the one we ascended, and show
that the canyons were carved under different conditions from those now
prevailing. The principal amount of canyon cutting must have been done
before the streams were overloaded with débris contributed by
glaciers--that is, the deep dissection of the lower slope of Mount
Rainier and of the platform on which it stands must have preceded the
Glacial epoch.
After a night's rest in the shelter of the forest, lulled to sleep by
the roar of Carbon River in its tumultuous course after its escape
from the ice caverns, we climbed the heavily moraine-covered extremity
of Carbon Glacier. At night, weary with carrying heavy packs over the
chaos of stones that cover the glaciers, we slept on a couch of moss
beautified with lovely blossoms, almost within the spray of Philo
Falls, a cataract of clear icy water that pours into the canyon of
Carbon Glacier from snow fields high up on the western wall of the
canyon.
I will ask the reader to defer the study of the glaciers until we have
made a reconnaissance of the mountain and climbed to its summit, as he
will then be better prepared to understand the relation of the
glaciers, névés, and other features with which it will be necessary to
deal. In this portion of our fireside explorations let us enjoy a
summer outing, deferring until later the more serious task of
questioning the glaciers.
From Philo Falls we ascended still higher, by following partially
snow-filled lanes between the long lateral moraines that have been
left by the shrinking of Carbon Glacier, and found three parallel,
sharp-crested ridges about a mile long and from 100 to 150 feet high,
made of bowlders and stones of all shapes, which record the former
positions of the glacier. Along the western border of the oldest and
most westerly of these ridges there is a valley, perhaps 100 yards
wide, intervening between the abandoned lateral moraine and the
western side of the valley, which rises in precipices to
forest-covered heights at least 1,000 feet above. Between the morainal
ridges there are similar narrow valleys, each of which at the time of
our visit, July 15, was deeply snow-covered. The ridges are clothed
with spruce and cedar trees, together with a variety of shrubs and
flowering annuals. The knolls rising through the snow are gorgeous
with flowers. A wealth of purple Bryanthus, resembling purple heather,
and of its constant companion, if not near relative, the Cassiope,
with white, waxy bells, closely simulating the white heather, make
glorious the mossy banks from which the lingering snow has but just
departed. Acres of meadow land, still soft with snow water and musical
with rills and brooks flowing in uncertain courses over the deep, rich
turf, are beautiful with lilies, which seemed woven in a cloth of gold
about the borders of the lingering snow banks. We are near the upper
limit of timber growth, where park-like openings, with thickets of
evergreens, give a special charm to the mountain side. The morainal
ridge nearest the glacier is forest-covered on its outer slope, while
the descent to the glacier is a rough, desolate bank of stones and
dirt. The glacier has evidently but recently shrunk away from this
ridge, which was formed along its border by stones brought from a bold
cliff that rises sheer from the ice a mile upstream. Standing on the
morainal ridge overlooking the glacier, one has to the eastward an
unobstructed view of the desolate and mostly stone and dirt covered
ice. Across the glacier another embankment can be seen, similar to the
one on the west, and, like it, recording a recent lowering of the
surface of the glacier of about 150 feet. Beyond the glacier are
extremely bold and rugged mountains, scantily clothed with forests
nearly to their summits. The position of the timber line shows that
the bare peaks above are between 8,000 and 9,000 feet high. Looking
southward, up the glacier, we have a glimpse into the wild
amphitheater in which it has its source. The walls of the great hollow
in the mountain side rise in seemingly vertical precipices about 4,000
feet high. Far above is a shining, snow-covered peak, which Willis
named the Liberty Cap. It is one of the culminating points of Mount
Rainier, but not the actual summit. Its elevation is about 14,300 feet
above the sea. Toward the west the view is limited by the
forest-covered morainal ridges near at hand and by the precipitous
slopes beyond, which lead to a northward-projecting spur of Mount
Rainier, known as the Mother Mountains. This, our first view of Mount
Rainier near at hand, has shown that the valley down which Carbon
Glacier flows, as well as the vast amphitheater in which it has its
source, is sunk in the flanks of the mountain. To restore the northern
slope of the ancient volcano as it existed when the mountain was young
we should have to fill the depression in which the glacier lies at
least to the height of its bordering ridges. On looking down the
glacier we see it descending into a vast gulf bordered by steep
mountains, which rise at least 3,000 feet above its bottom. This is
the canyon through which the water formed by the melting of the
glacier escapes. To restore the mountain this great gulf would also
have to be filled. Clearly the traveler in this region is surrounded
by the records of mighty changes. Not only does he inquire how the
volcanic mountain was formed, but how it is being destroyed. The study
of the glaciers will do much toward making clear the manner in which
the once smooth slopes have been trenched by radiating valleys,
leaving mountain-like ridges between.
Another line of inquiry which we shall find of interest as we advance
is suggested by the recent shrinkage of Carbon Glacier. Are all of the
glaciers that flow from the mountain wasting away? If we find this to
be the case, what climatic changes does it indicate?