we made several side trips, each of which was crowded with
observations of interest. One of these excursions, made by Mr. Smith
and myself, was up the snow fields near camp; past the prominent
outstanding pinnacles known as the Guardian Rocks, one red and the
other black; and through Spray Park, with its thousands of groves of
spire-like evergreens, with flower-enameled glades between. On the
bare, rocky shoulder of the mountain, where the trees now grow, we
found the unmistakable grooves and striations left by former glaciers.
The lines engraved in the rock lead away from the mountain, showing
that even the boldest ridges were formerly ice-covered. Our route took
us around the head of the deep canyon through which flows Cataract
Creek. In making this circuit we followed a rugged saw-tooth crest,
and had some interesting rock-climbing. Finally, the sharp divide
between Cataract Creek and a small stream flowing westward to Crater
Lake was reached, and a slide on a steep snow slope took us quickly
down to where the flowers made a border of purple and gold about the
margins of the snow. Soon we were in the forest, and gaining a rocky
ledge among the trees, could look down on Crater Lake, deeply sunk in
shaggy mountains which still preserve all of their primitive freshness
and beauty. Snow lay in deep drifts beneath the shelter of the forest,
and the lake was ice-covered except for a few feet near the margin.
This was on July 20. I have been informed that the lake is usually
free of ice before this date, but the winter preceding our visit was
of more than usual severity, the snowfall being heavy, and the coming
of summer was therefore much delayed.
The name Crater Lake implies that its waters occupy a volcanic crater.
Willis states that Nature has here placed an emerald seal on one of
Pluto's sally ports; but that the great depression now water-filled is
a volcanic crater is not so apparent as we might expect. The basin is
in volcanic rock, but none of the characteristics of a crater due to
volcanic explosions can be recognized. The rocks, so far as I saw
them, are massive lavas, and not fragmental scoriæ or other products
of explosive eruptions. On the bold, rounded rock ledges down which we
climbed in order to reach the shore, there were deep glacial scorings,
showing that the basin was once deeply filled with moving ice. My
observations were not sufficiently extended to enable me to form an
opinion as to the origin of the remarkable depression, but whatever
may have been its earlier history, it has certainly been profoundly
modified by ice erosion.
Following the lake shore southward, groping our way beneath the thick,
drooping branches which dip in the lake, we reached the notch in the
rim of the basin through which the waters escape and start on their
journey to Mowich River and thence to the sea. We there found the
branch of the Willis trail leading to Spray Park, and turned toward
camp. Again we enjoyed the luxury of following a winding pathway
through silent colonnades formed by the moss-grown trunks of noble
trees. On either side of the trail worn in the brown soil the ferns
and flowering shrubs were bent over in graceful curves, and at times
filled the little-used lane, first traversed fifteen years before.
The trail led us to Eagle Cliff, a bold, rocky promontory rising as
does El Capitan from the Yosemite, 1,800 feet from the forest-lined
canyon of Mowich River. From Eagle Cliff one beholds the most
magnificent view that is to be had in all the wonderful region about
Mount Rainier. The scene beheld on looking eastward toward the mighty
mountain is remarkable alike for its magnificence and for the artistic
grouping of the various features of the sublime picture. In the vast
depths at one's feet the tree-tops, through which the mists from
neighboring cataracts are drifting, impart a somber tone and make the
valley's bottom seem far more remote than it is. The sides of the
canyon are formed by prominent serrate ridges, leading upward to the
shining snow fields of the mighty dome that heads the valley. Nine
thousand feet above our station rose the pure white Liberty Cap, the
crowning glory of the mountain as seen from the northward. The snow
descending the northwest side of the great central dome is gathered
between the ridges forming the sides of the valley, and forms a white
névé from which flows Willis Glacier. In looking up the valley from
Eagle Cliff the entire extent of the snow fields and of the
river-like stream of ice flowing from them is in full view. The ice
ends in a dirt-covered and rock-strewn terminus, just above a huge
rounded dome that rises in its path. In 1881 the ice reached nearly to
the top of the dome and broke off in an ice cliff, the detached blocks
falling into the gulf below. The glacier has now withdrawn its
terminus well above the precipice where it formerly fell as an ice
cascade, and its surface has shrunk away from well-defined moraines in
much the same manner as has already been noted in the case of Carbon
Glacier. A more detailed account of the retreat of the extremity of
Willis Glacier[25] will be given later.
From Eagle Cliff we continued our tramp eastward along the trail
leading to Spray Park, climbed the zigzag pathway up the face of a
cliff in front of Spray Falls, and gained the picturesque and
beautiful parklike region above. An hour's tramp brought us again near
the Guardian Rocks. A swift descent down the even snow fields enabled
us to reach camp just as the shadows of evening were gathering in the
deeper canyons, leaving the silent snow fields above all aglow with
reflected sunset tints.
Taking heavy packs on our backs on the morning of July 21, we
descended the steep broken surface of the most recent moraine
bordering Carbon Glacier in its middle course, and reached the solid
blue ice below. Our course led us directly across the glacier, along
the lower border of the rapidly melting covering of winter snow. The
glacier is there about a mile across. Its central part is higher than
its border, and for the most part the ice is concealed by dirt and
stones. Just below the névé, however, we found a space about half a
mile long in which melting had not led to the concentration of
sufficient débris to make traveling difficult. Farther down the
glacier, where surface melting was more advanced, the entire glacier,
with the exception of a few lanes of clear ice between the
ill-defined medial moraines, was completely concealed beneath a
desolate sheet of angular stones. On reaching the east side of the
glacier we were confronted with a wall of clay and stones, the inner
slope of a moraine similar in all respects to the one we had descended
to reach the west border of the glacier. A little search revealed a
locality where a tongue of ice in a slight embayment projected some
distance up the wall of morainal material, and a steep climb of 50 or
60 feet brought us to the summit. The glacier has recently
shrunk--that is, its surface has been lowered from 80 to 100 feet by
melting.
On the east side of the glacier we found several steep, sharp-crested
ridges, clothed with forest trees, with narrow, grassy, and
flower-strewn dells between, in which banks of snow still lingered.
The ridges are composed of bowlders and angular stones of a great
variety of sizes and shapes, and are plainly lateral moraines
abandoned by the shrinking of the glacier. Choosing a way up one of
the narrow lanes, bordered on each side by steep slopes densely
covered with trees and shrubs, we found secure footing in the hard
granular snow, and soon reached a more open, parklike area, covered
with mossy bosses of turf, on which grew a great profusion of
brilliant flowers. Before us rose the great cliffs which partially
inclose the amphitheater in which Carbon Glacier has its source. These
precipices, as already stated, have a height of about 4,000 feet, and
are so steep that the snow does not cling to them, but descends in
avalanches. Above the cliffs, where the inclination is less
precipitous, the snow lies in thick layers, the edges of which are
exposed in a vertical precipice rising above the avalanche-swept
rock-slope below. Far above, and always the central object in the wild
scenery surrounding us, rose the brilliant white Liberty Cap, one of
the pinnacles on the rim of the great summit crater. Our way then
turned eastward, following the side of the mountain, and led us
through a region just above the timber line, which commands far
reaching views to the wild and rugged mountains to the northeast. This
open tract, leading down to groves of spruce trees and diversified by
charming lakelets, bears abundant evidence of having formerly been
ice-covered, and is known as Moraine Park.
In order to retain our elevation we crossed diagonally the steep snow
slopes in the upper portion of the Moraine Park. Midway over the snow
we rested at a sharp crest of rock, and found that it is composed of
light-colored granite. Later we found that much of the area between
the Carbon and Winthrop glaciers is composed of this same kind of
rock. Granite forms a portion of the border of the valley through
which flow the glaciers just named, and furnished them with much
granitic débris, which is carried away as moraines and later worked
over into well-rounded bowlders by the streams flowing from the ice.
The presence of granite pebbles in the course of Carbon and White
rivers, far below the glaciers, is thus accounted for.
A weary tramp of about 4 miles from the camp we had left brought us to
the border of Winthrop Glacier. In the highest grove of trees, which
are bent down and frequently lie prone on the ground, although still
living, we selected a well-sheltered camping-place. Balsam boughs
furnished luxuriant beds, and the trees killed by winter storms
enabled us to have a roaring camp fire. Fresh trail of mountain goats
and their but recently abandoned bed showed that this is a favorite
resort for those hardy animals. Marmots were also abundant, and
frequently awakened the echoes with their shrill, whistling cries. The
elevation of our camp was about 8,000 feet.
From our camp on the cliffs above the west border of Winthrop Glacier
we made excursions across that glacier and to its heavily
moraine-covered extremity. The snow mantle that is spread over the
region about Mount Rainier each winter melts first on the rugged
plateau surrounding the base of the mountain, and, as the summer's
heat increases, gradually withdraws up the mountain sides, but never
so as to uncover the more elevated region. The snow line--that is, the
position to which the lower border of the mantle of perennial snow
withdraws late in summer--has an elevation of about 9,000 feet. The
lower margin of the wintry covering is always irregular, however,
extending farthest down on the glaciers and retreating highest on the
rocks. At the time of our visit the snow had melted off of nearly all
the region below our camp, leaving only dirt-stained snow banks in the
more completely sheltered recesses and in deeply shaded dells in the
adjacent forests. On the glaciers all the region at a greater
elevation than our camp was white and free from dirt and stones, while
the hard glacial ice was abundantly exposed at lower altitudes and
ended in a completely moraine-covered terminus. Above us all was
barren, white, and wintry; below lay the flowery vales and grass
parks, warm and inviting, leading to the welcome shade of noble
forests. Our course led upward into the frozen region.
On leaving the camp on the border of Winthrop Glacier we began our
alpine work. There were five in the party selected for the difficult
task of scaling Mount Rainier; namely: Willis, Smith, Ainsworth,
Williams, and myself. Taking our blankets, a small supply of rations,
an alcohol lamp, alpenstocks, a rope 100 feet long to serve as a life
line, and a few other articles necessary for traveling above timber
line, we began the ascent of Winthrop Glacier early on the morning of
July 23. Our route was comparatively easy at the start, but became
steeper and steeper as we advanced. The snow was firm and, except for
the numerous crevasses, presented no great difficulties to be
overcome. In several places the névé rises in domes as if forced up
from beneath, but caused in reality by bosses of rock over which the
glacier flows. These domes are broken by radiating crevasses which
intersect in their central portions, leaving pillars and castle-like
masses of snow with vertical sides. At one locality, in attempting to
pass between two of these shattered domes, we found our way blocked by
an impassable crevasse. Considerable time was lost in searching for a
practicable upward route, but at length, by making a detour to the
right, we found a way which, although steep, allowed us to pass the
much crevassed area and gain the sharp ridge of rock which divides the
névé snow flowing from the central dome of the mountain, and marks the
separation between Winthrop and Emmons glaciers. This prow-like
promontory, rising some 500 feet above the glaciers on either hand, we
named The Wedge. This is the upward pointing, acute angle of a great
V-shaped portion of the lower slope of the mountain, left in bold
relief by the erosion of the valleys on either side. As will be
described later, there are several of these remnants about the sides
of the mountain at the same general horizon, which record a somewhat
definite stage in the destruction of the mountain by ice erosion.
On reaching The Wedge we found it an utterly desolate rocky cape in a
sea of snow. We were at an altitude of about 10,000 feet, and far
above timber. Water was obtained by spreading snow on smooth rocks or
on rubber sheets, and allowing it to melt by the heat of the afternoon
sun. Coffee was prepared over the alcohol lamp, sheltered from the
wind by a bed sheet supported by alpenstocks. After a frugal lunch, we
made shelf-like ledges in a steep slope of earth and stones and laid
down our blankets for the night. From sheltered nooks amid the rocks,
exposed to the full warmth of the declining sun, we had the icy slopes
of the main central dome of the mountain in full view and chose what
seemed the most favorable route for the morrow's climb.
Surrounded as we were by the desolation and solitude of barren rocks,
on which not even a lichen had taken root, and pure white snow fields,
we were much surprised to receive passing visits from several
humming-birds which shot past us like winged jewels. They came up the
valley occupied by the Emmons Glacier, turned sharply at The Wedge,
and went down the way of the Winthrop Glacier. What tempts these
children of the sunlight and the flowers into the frozen regions seems
a mystery. That the humming-birds are bold explorers was not new to
me, for the reason that on several occasions in previous years, while
on the snow-covered slopes of Mount St. Elias, far above all vestiges
of vegetation, my heart had been gladdened by glimpses of their
brilliant plumage.
When the sun declined beyond the great snow-covered dome that towered
above us, and the blue shadows crept down the previously dazzling
cliffs, the air became cold and a strong wind made our perch on the
rocks uncomfortable. Wrapping ourselves in our blankets we slept until
the eastern sky began to glow with sunrise tints.
Early on the morning of July 24 [1896] we began the climb of the steep
snow slopes leading to the summit of the mountain. Roped together as
we had been on the previous day, we slowly worked our way upward, in a
tortuous course, in order to avoid the many yawning crevasses. The way
was steep and difficult. Some members of the party felt the effects of
the rarefied air, and as we lacked experience in true alpine work our
progress was slow and laborious. Many of the crevasses that our course
crossed were of the nature of faults. Their upper rims stood several
feet above their lower margins, and thus added to the difficulty of
passing them. Our aim at first was to traverse the névé of Emmons
Glacier and gain the less rugged slope bordering it on the south, but
the intervening region was greatly broken and, as we found after
several approaches to it, utterly impassable. The climb presented no
special difficulties other than the extreme fatigue incident to
climbing steep snow slopes, especially while attached to a life line,
and the delays necessitated by frequently turning and retracing our
steps in order to get around wide crevasses.
Once while crossing a steep snow slope diagonally, and having a wide
crevasse below us, Ainsworth, who was next to the rear of the line,
lost his footing and slid down the slope on his back. Unfortunately,
at that instant, Williams, who was at the rear of the line, removed
his alpenstock from the snow, was overturned by the pull on the line,
and shot headfirst down the slope and disappeared over the brink of
the crevasse. A strong pull came on the members of the party who were
in advance, but our alpenstocks held fast, and before assistance could
be extended to the man dangling in midair, he climbed the taut rope
and stood unhurt among us once more. The only serious result of the
accident was the loss of an alpenstock.
Pressing on toward the dark rim of rock that we could now and then
catch glimpses of at the head of the snow slopes and which we knew to
be the outer portion of the summit crater, we crossed many frail snow
bridges and climbed precipitous slopes, in some of which steps had to
be cut. As we neared the summit we met a strong westerly gale that
chilled us and benumbed our fingers. At length, weary and faint on
account of the rarity of the air, we gained the lower portion of the
rim of stones marking the position of the crater. While my companions
rested for a few moments in the shelter of the rocks, I pressed on up
the rugged slope and gained the top of the rim.
The stones exposed at the summit are bare of snow, possibly on account
of the heat from below, and are rounded and their exposed surfaces
polished. The smooth, black bowlders shine in the sunlight much the
same as the sand-burnished stones in desert regions. Here on the
mountain's brow, exposed to an almost continuous gale, the rocks have
been polished by drifting snow crystals. The prevailing rounded form
that the stones present may be the result of weathering, or possibly
is due to the manner in which the fragments were ejected from the
volcano. My hasty examinations suggested the former explanation.
Descending into the crater, I discovered crevices from which steam was
escaping, and on placing my hands on the rocks was rejoiced to find
them hot. My companions soon joined me, and we began the exploration
of the crater, our aim being to find the least uncomfortable place in
which to take refuge from the freezing blast rather than to make
scientific discoveries.
The crater that we had entered is one of the smaller and more recent
ones in the truncated summit of the peak, and is deeply filled with
snow, but the rim is bare and well defined. The steam and heat from
the rocks have melted out many caverns beneath the snow. In one of
these we found shelter.
The cavern we chose in which to pass the night, although irregular,
was about 60 feet long by 40 wide, and had an arched ceiling some 20
feet high. The snow had been melted out from beneath, leaving a roof
so thin that a diffused blue light penetrated the chamber. The floor
sloped steeply, and on the side toward the center of the crater there
was a narrow space between the rocks and the descending roof which led
to unexplored depths. As a slide into this forbidding gulf would have
been exceedingly uncomfortable, if not serious, our life line was
stretched from crag to crag so as to furnish a support and allow us to
walk back and forth during the night without danger of slipping. Three
arched openings or doorways communicated with other chambers, and
through these drafts of cold air were continually blowing. The icy air
chilled the vapor rising from the warm rocks and filled the chamber
with steam which took on grotesque forms in the uncertain, fading
light. In the central part of the icy chamber was a pinnacle of rock,
from the crevices of which steam was issuing with a low hissing sound.
Some of the steam jets were too hot to be comfortable to the ungloved
hand. In this uninviting chamber we passed the night. The muffled roar
of the gale as it swept over the mountain could be heard in our
retreat and made us thankful for the shelter the cavern afforded.
The floor of our cell was too uneven and too steeply inclined to admit
of lying down. Throughout the night we leaned against the hot rocks or
tramped wearily up and down holding the life line. Cold blasts from
the branching ice chambers swept over us. Our clothes were saturated
with condensed steam. While one side of the body resting against the
rocks would be hot, the strong drafts of air with a freezing
temperature chilled the other side. After long hours of intense
darkness the dome of snow above us became faintly illuminated, telling
that the sun was again shining. After a light breakfast and a cup of
tea, prepared over our alcohol lamp, we resumed our exploration, none
the worse for the exposures of the night.
Following the inner rim of the crater so as to be sheltered from the
gale still blowing steadily from the west, we gained its northern
border and climbed to the topmost pinnacle, known as Columbia's Crest.
This pinnacle rises about 50 feet above the general level of the
irregular rim of the crater, and is the highest point on the mountain.
Its elevation, as previously stated, is 14,526 feet.[26]
The magnificent view described by former visitors to this commanding
station, which we had hoped would reward our efforts, was concealed
beneath a canopy of smoke that covered all of the region about the
mountain to a depth of about 10,000 feet. The surface of the layer of
smoke was sharply defined, and appeared like an undulating sea
surrounding the island on which we stood. Far to the northward rose
the regular conical summit of Mount Baker, like an isolated sea-girt
island. A few of the rugged and more elevated summits, marking the
course of the Cascade Mountains, could be discerned to the eastward.
The summits of Mount Adams and Mount St. Helens were in plain view and
seemingly near at hand. All of the forest-covered region between these
elevated summits was blotted out by the dense, heavy layer of smoke,
which rose until it met the westerly gale of the upper regions.
During the ascent of Mount Rainier by Emmons and Wilson, previously
referred to, more favorable atmospheric conditions prevailed than at
the time of my visit, and the region about the base of the mountain
was clearly revealed. In describing the view from the summit Emmons
says:
From the northeastern rim of the crater we could look down an
unbroken slope of nearly 10,000 feet to the head of the White
River, the upper half or two-thirds of which was so steep
that one had the feeling of looking over a perpendicular
wall. [It was up this slope that the climb briefly described
above was made.] The systems of glaciers and the streams
which flowed from them lay spread out as on a map at our
feet; radiating out in every direction from the central mass,
they all with one accord curve to the westward to send their
waters down toward Puget Sound or the Lower Columbia.
[Attention has already been directed to the westward
curvature of the streams from Mount Rainier on reaching the
tilted peneplain on which the mountain stands, and the
explanation has been suggested that they are consequent
streams the direction of which was determined by the original
slope of the now deeply dissected plateau.]