[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 a.s.sociated 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 Winch.e.l.l 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 ill.u.s.trated, 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, a.s.sistants, 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 ma.s.sive 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 ma.s.sive 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 s.p.a.ce 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 princ.i.p.al amount of canyon cutting must have been done before the streams were overloaded with debris 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, neves, 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 Ca.s.siope, 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 un.o.bstructed 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?
From our camp among the morainal ridges by the side of Carbon Glacier 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 s.h.a.ggy 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 ma.s.sive lavas, and not fragmental scoriae or other products of explosive eruptions. On the bold, rounded rock ledges down which we climbed in order to reach the sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e 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 n.o.ble 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 neve 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 neve, however, we found a s.p.a.ce about half a mile long in which melting had not led to the concentration of sufficient debris 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, gra.s.sy, 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 debris, 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 p.r.o.ne 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 alt.i.tudes and ended in a completely moraine-covered terminus. Above us all was barren, white, and wintry; below lay the flowery vales and gra.s.s parks, warm and inviting, leading to the welcome shade of n.o.ble 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 creva.s.ses, presented no great difficulties to be overcome. In several places the neve 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 creva.s.ses which intersect in their central portions, leaving pillars and castle-like ma.s.ses of snow with vertical sides. At one locality, in attempting to pa.s.s between two of these shattered domes, we found our way blocked by an impa.s.sable creva.s.se. 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 pa.s.s the much creva.s.sed area and gain the sharp ridge of rock which divides the neve 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 alt.i.tude 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 pa.s.sing 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 creva.s.ses. 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 creva.s.ses 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 pa.s.sing them. Our aim at first was to traverse the neve 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 impa.s.sable. 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 creva.s.ses.
Once while crossing a steep snow slope diagonally, and having a wide creva.s.se 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 creva.s.se. A strong pull came on the members of the party who were in advance, but our alpenstocks held fast, and before a.s.sistance 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 pa.s.s 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 s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.sed the night. The m.u.f.fled 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 ma.s.s, they all with one accord curve to the westward to send their waters down toward Puget Sound or the Lower Columbia.